I’m Coming

She stared

like a child

at his amazing features

pulling herself closer to him

finally seeing the creases on his skin

too old

too pale

too quiet

too solemn

too white

she lay next to him

and grabbed his cold hand

and played with his fingers

and scratched his palm

and kiss his hand

and held it tight

she whispered

“i’m coming too”


– Parveen Maghera


Let It Go – Chapter Two

Here’s chapter two of Let It Go! Read chapter one here if you haven’t.



The bitter cold made it even harder for them to breathe. Their bodies shivered even with the tiny fireplace I lit after Pa extinguished it out of anger. Their bare skin touched the dirty gravel flooring. There were frostbites on their toes. I stared as they hugged each other tightly, embracing in each other’s warmth. I crept into the room slowly and quietly tiptoed towards them. They were shivering in their sleep. I’ve never seen anyone so bare apart from myself. Their skin was pale. I looked back at the doorway ensuring no one came by. In a quick move, I unwrapped the blanket I draped around me and covered them. Just like how Ma tucked in me into bed. I glanced at them one last time and scurried off the room, not forgetting to drop in more wood into the fireplace.

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Why I write what I write

Alright. I know a lot of what I have written carry the themes of forced marriages and honour killings. All those dark and terrible situations you would never had wished for yourself to be in. You may never know… more terrible stuff might just add on to the list. Let me just share with you why I write what I write.

After O levels, I read a book recommended by Rashvin (I share over 10 years of friendship with this woman. She’s more than a bestie.) The book was titled Shame authored by Jasvinder Sanghera, who now runs Karma Nirvana, a non-profit organisation supporting victims of forced marriages and honour based violence. In short, the writer ran away from a strict Sikh household that tied her into a forced marriage. She escaped and led her life by herself. It’s coupled with all the ups and downs of running away from home, being lonely, home-sick and even living on the edge.

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Let It Go – Chapter One

So this is something I’ve just started on. It’s going to be a novel though I’m not very sure how long it’s going to be. I’ll be posting chapter by chapter. The style I’m trying to adopt is inspired by Khaled Hosseini’s books and you would realise it later on as you read several chapters. But of course, its not entirely like his style and how effortlessly he does it. Nobody can beat this amazing dude! Till then, here’s chapter one of “Let It Go”.

Don’t lie. That Frozen song just started playing in your head, didn’t it?




He stood there, towering over me while I hugged my knees tightly close to my chest. He inched forward. His smell – one that reeks disgust. My eyelashes were wet with tears which hung on my waterline, waiting to roll down my cheek, staining them wet. Just like him. Waiting to caress my skin, my body… with lust in his eyes. And. Staining me. Forever.

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this inferno spreads through my body

it shouts the cries of peril

unsynchronised gestures

red eye monster

consciousness fade little by little

wait, where am I?


I need to leave

drums beating down my head

my wheels are far away

I am a tree swaying in the wind

the smell of leather and dry ice

taste of bile in my mouth

spit, cough, waterfall


slam my feet on the pedal

need to leave this dungeon

why is it so foggy today?

my lashes are damp

the lights are blaring

lost in this darkness


I am suffocating within myself

my head is damped

the wheel is red

press on, press on but

they stop me from the front

blue uniforms drag me out

I wasn’t the only one in red


my hands are tied with silver chains

a white blanket covers her

the redness never ceased to flow

like my endless chugs

it’s a start of something new

where did I go wrong?


– Parveen Maghera


my lost existence

morning clouds of dangerous loom

though it does not explode to pour

thirst will give me strength to live

but my roots beckon for life

the soil it holds on to

depletes each day

the clouds show

no mercy

he gives

no care I

wither in plight





my emerald self fades to autumn hue

there seems like no life ahead of me

each part of me falls down to earth

and all my roots loosen its grip

but the clouds gave in

and I drink in pleasure

my colour returns

no however

he ignores

my world

each day

all the time I

wither in plight

– Parveen Maghera



shackles of gold tie me down

beneath the crimson sky

henna spells out his name on my palms

the temporary stain scars my life


you plucked me off from my castle of hope

writhed me into a bargain

fourteen years worth of burning coals in your heart

the final splint exhausts tonight


betel nut, flowers, fruits, conch shell

his palms twice the size

water pours with chanting mantras

the charitable gift of a virgin


you chanced upon the sacred moment

when you found jewels at your doorstep

fourteen years worth of poverty and anguish

the box fills with rice tonight


seven vows of deceit

with floral showers of disgust

crowned with a streak of vermillion

the shackles are now firm in place


you locked the girl away

force the woman out of me

fourteen years worth of blinding ill-fate

the curse leaves your courtyard tonight


touching feet for false blessings

five handful of rice over my head

tears of grief but most of joy

the cot carries this burden away for life


– Parveen Maghera


all over again

as the needles move

they kick, punch, stomp, scream

clambering to keep in line

with the dozens around

a routine on stage

with payers to watch

they perform to get paid

no it is not a choice

but a chore with a purpose

to breathe

to eat

to feed

to enjoy that purpose

and when the leather is empty again

they realise how fast the needles moved

look back and think

why is it a routine

who are the payers

what are they paid

they think, kick, punch, stomp, scream

drag themselves to the line

to be part of the routine they question

a performance for whom they seek answers

and paid for accepting the stage

the leather is filled again

their purpose becomes priority

forget the questions they ask themselves

and smile

and drink

and serve

and it is empty



– Parveen Maghera


The Unforgiven

4th January 2012 Wednesday, 12.30 am

The voices from the veranda get louder and Nami hugs her legs close to her chest, shivering in fear.

“You’re a disgrace!” Pa bellows with rage. Nami jerks when she hears a loud crash. There is a sudden silence. Nami quickly scrambles off her bed and peeps through a small opening through the curtains.

“No, Pa no,” Nami whispers as tears start to stream down her face.

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