Proud | A Historical Narrative
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A small narrative which regards the time when the British had failed to captivate India as the Muslims immigrated to their new homeland, Pakistan.
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The Lost Dynasty
A young muslim lady, born and raised in the land named England with her bloodline originating from Kashmir. It would be considered a blessing to have two completely different worlds in the palm of her hands. But not for Kyda. ~ Aunties gossiping ~ Unrealistic high standards ~ Normalised Racism and stereotyping ~ Constant culture and religious clashes ... her late grandfather passing. Living a double life isn't as simple as it seems. Kyda begins to distance herself from half of her identity to fit in British society. But a musty dusty large antique trunk in a museum had other plans.Concluída
DAASTAN- E- ISHQ: TALE OF LOVE AND WAR
We were never supposed to marry, and our marriage was wrong because of many reasons but it didn't take him a single second before he shouted in front of the whole village and said that I am his wife and marry me in front of them. And I was just standing there like a statue because what could I have done when my own family is in different country and the person whom I was getting married ran away leaving me to get killed by the goons. He saved me when no one was there for me, when everyone was against me and wanted to kill me. He stood there like a rock and become my shield and my husband. And this is where our story of endless love and fight begins. And all of this just because we are from different religion and society will never accept our marriage and love. All of this started because of that tremendously awful day when it was announced that our country is getting divided into two parts and that we have to leave our country, my home where I was born and brought up. The partition of 1947 changed my life for forever. I am Noor and this is my story of Love and War with those whom I used to thought were my loved ones.Concluída
HOLDING ON TO YOU
Some people fade with time, their presence dissolving like a forgotten song. And then, there are the ones who stay-their laughter etched into your soul, their absence louder than their presence ever was. She told herself she had moved on. That the past belonged in the past. But the universe had a cruel way of bringing back what you thought was gone for good. Tonight, under the glow of the streetlights, she felt it again-the pull, the weight of memories she thought she had buried. Then her phone vibrated. One message. "Tell me you don't remember." Her heart stopped. Because she did. Every word. Every promise. Every reason she should have let go but never could. And now, it was all coming back. Because some stories never really end. To know more dive into the story. All rights reserved.
𝐀 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬| Indian Historical Fiction
ON HOLD! 𝐀 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Bengal, 1853. Chitrakshi was fourteen when she first stepped into the grand halls of her husband's home-a world where women lived in whispers and men held the weight of power. She was a child bride, bound by sacred fire to Mayukh Choudhury, the Naeb of an indigo plantation... a man who did not belong to her, nor she to him. He was distant not cruel, but practical. To him, love was a distraction, and justice a dream too fragile to touch. Yet, the soil of Bengal was restless. The farmers bled for the white man's dye, drowning in debt, their fields chained to a crop they could neither eat nor escape. Chitra saw their suffering, their silent cries, and for the first time, she defied the silence that bound her world. But Mayukh, her husband, stood on the other side. Between them grew an unspoken war: one of ideals, of duty, of love not yet understood. He admired the British for their discipline, she despised them for their cruelty. He spoke of power, she spoke of justice. He held back, she ran forward. They were bound together, yet pulling apart -two forces neither meeting nor breaking free. 1859, A lot had happened in the past six years. As the world changed, as history was being written in blood and ink, she clung to the only thing left of him -a hundred letters sent, never read, never answered. But when the last letter is finally written, will love still remain? INDIGO: THE HUNDRED LOST LETTERS is not just a tale of the past. It is a question that lingers even today: What does it mean to wait for someone who may never return?
Ballad Of Love
❝ find what you love and let it kill you.❞ ~collection of short storiesConcluída
Pretty Little Thing | ✓
[Highest ranking: #1 in Spiritual on 15/8/18] ••• • In which a girl saved a boy's life in the most unexpected of circumstances • She drank water. He drank alcohol. She had a family who'd take a bullet for her. He had a family who'd throw him under the bus. She dreamt of her future. He dreamt of his death. Both are Muslims but only one is closer to their Lord. ••• *NOT CLICHÉ* This story in no way depicts the true Muslim culture. It's about the modern Muslims nowadays who steer away from the right path. This book contains some strong language, graphic content and violence so I advise you to read it with care. WARNING: too much cuteness you'll die squealing. ©Copyright 2018. sanasays. Any sort of plagiarism of my story will be reported immediately, and that includes my aesthetics and banners as well.Concluída
A flame in the Storm
Highest rank #16 on 11/12/16 I clutched his leg as he turned to go. "You had me enough times that you don't want me anymore" I struggled as the pain didn't allow me to speak; through jagged breaths I whispered "now end it all for once." He sat and stroking my hair with his hand said in a low voice "Not yet dear". ........................................................................................................................................................................ When an innocent crush turns into a lethal mistake, Maria Rasheed is annihilated. She finds her will to live wane but there is a flame inside her which refuses to bow down to the storm that destroyed her life. She is determined to define herself as a victor rather than a victim.Concluída
Esha and Isa
Their sympathy had worn off and I was back to how I started, except I no longer had my husband beside me. I thought the niqab (face veil) would protect me like it used to, make me look like I fit in with everyone else. But the little person holding my hand gives it away. His beautiful dark skin and short frizzy hair shows that he’s different. They see us as different and they don’t like it. - Born and brought up in the west with a Pakistani father and Palestinian mother, Esha’s never been liked by her extended family in Pakistan. But they remained polite until she went on to do something never seen in her father’s Pakistani village. She married a black man. To make matters worse, Esha and her husband, Isa, move to Pakistan so Esha can teach the less fortunate in the little village her father was brought up in. His passing caused her great grief and she wanted to feel closer to him. But they never accepted her. Yet, Esha refuses to move away and is adamant on raising her son alone in her father’s old house.Concluída
A young muslim lady, born and raised in the land named England with her bloodline originating from Kashmir. It would be considered a blessing to have two completely different worlds in the palm of her hands. But not for Kyda. ~ Aunties gossiping ~ Unrealistic high standards ~ Normalised Racism and stereotyping ~ Constant culture and religious clashes ... her late grandfather passing. Living a double life isn't as simple as it seems. Kyda begins to distance herself from half of her identity to fit in British society. But a musty dusty large antique trunk in a museum had other plans.
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