“They were happy, I thought. As a child, laughter is all you need as proof of happiness. As a child you don't know there are so many different kinds of laughter - like different varieties of birds. Some are flightless.” Laughter Book:This House of Clay and Water Source: This House of Clay and Water
“I had never said those words because there were no words left. My beloved and I were both exiles from language. Our love couldn't be expressed in words. Our love had been woven into the melodies rendered by his flute, and it was subsumed in the atoms of the air we breathed. It had been consecrated in this shrine. It had never been named. It was an unnamed thing that had remained unspoken, unuttered, unsaid. I did not need to name it when he could already hear it.” FictionPocCulture IdentityDiverse Characters Book:This House of Clay and Water Source: This House of Clay and Water
“When death becomes an escape, when it becomes attractive, the purpose of life is fulfilled. To teach one it's futility, it's worthlessness, that is the purpose of life. Incongruously, its value lies in having imparted that lesson." "In the nights though, I couldn't help but weave the golden cloth of my dreams. Each stitch from heart to thought, and thought to heart, was painful to bear, even if it was joyous at times. Because each thread was fraught with the fears of being broken midway, lost and never found again.” Diverse CharactersSouth Asian LiteratureSouth Asian WriterDiverse ReadsPakistani Fiction In English Book:This House of Clay and Water Source: This House of Clay and Water
“When death becomes an escape, when it becomes attractive, the purpose of life is fulfilled. To teach one it's futility, it's worthlessness, that is the purpose of life. Incongruously, its value lies in having imparted that lesson. Bhanggi” Contemporary FictionSouth Asian LiteratureSouth Asian WriterPakistani FictionPakistani NovelTragic Novel Literary Fiction Book:This House of Clay and Water Source: This House of Clay and Water
“In the nights though, I couldn't help but weave the golden cloth of my dreams. Each stitch from heart to thought, and thought to heart, was painful to bear, even if it was joyous at times. Because each thread was fraught with the fears of being broken midway, lost and never found again. Nida” South Asian LiteratureDiverse ReadsPakistaniauthorPakistani Fiction In EnglishPost Colonial Literature Book:This House of Clay and Water Source: This House of Clay and Water
“In the nights though, I couldn't help but weave the golden cloth of my dreams. Each stitch from heart to thought, and thought to heart, was painful to bear, even if it was joyous at times. Because each thread was fraught with the fears of being broken midway, lost and never found again.” TragedyContemporary FictionSouth Asian LiteratureDiverse Reads Book:This House of Clay and Water Source: This House of Clay and Water