Column by Saba Mahjoor | When Phuphee chose herself 

On a crisp April day, having finished lunch and afternoon prayers, I joined Phuphee outside on the verandah. The sun shone blindingly bright, but a gentle nip could be felt in the breeze. The tug between spring and summer had officially begun.

Phuphee was smoking her cigarettes when she saw me walk in. She smiled and asked if I had done my prayers. I nodded, and she asked, ‘Paanas kheatre kyah monguth [what did you ask for yourself?].’