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Fiction, LiteratureDecember 2, 2016

On the Wings of Dreams

3

But she doesn’t. Same as Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. And although it is not what you will have done under normal circumstances, you tell the girl, whose name starts with an ‘E,’ to wait after school hours.

The class is deserted, empty rows of wooden desks and chairs. You ensure the windows and door are open. On the school field, students have grouped themselves in threes and fours, chattering loudly and strolling towards the school gate.

“Why is Blessing not coming to school?” You waste no time in going straight to the point.

“Ahn, ahn, Corper sir. Everytime, it is just Blessing you will be asking about. I know it is because of her we have not done that your test.”

“Is she still in this village or has she travelled?”

She puts her hand on your lap, her eyes digging into yours. “Don’t tell me you called me to talk about Blessing?” Her voice is soft and relaxed, as her hand travels along your lap.

The field is getting scanty. A herd of cows, led by three young boys holding sticks, match in through the school gate. The cows waste no time gnawing at the grasses. You take a deep breath and swat her hand off.

She puts her hand on your lap, her eyes digging into yours. “Don’t tell me you called me to talk about Blessing?” Her voice is soft and relaxed, as her hand travels along your lap.

The field is getting scanty. A herd of cows, led by three young boys holding sticks, match in through the school gate. The cows waste no time gnawing at the grasses. You take a deep breath and swat her hand off.

“Ahh.” She withdraws it in pain. “I am going.” She makes to stand.

“Please.” You pin your hands on her shoulder, preventing her from standing. “Where is she?”

She looks at you for a while, weighing your sincerity, and then she tells you Blessing is getting ready for marriage to Chief Alex.

“Clement Alex?”

She nods.

“But he already has three wives!” Then you reduce your voice, almost to a whisper, “But she is too young. What about school?”

She laughs and smacks her palm against the other, “Corper eh. You are funny o. Don’t you know that every woman that is not married will not even waste time to throw away her books to marry Chief?”

“No. Blessing is not like that. She will choose her books over Chief. Why will her parents even agree to do such?”

“Money na. They will not suffer again.”

“No. No. No. I will not allow this. Give me her address.”

“Sir?” She looks confused.

“Where is her house? Where does she live?”

Three egrets, lithe and graceful, swoop down and land on the back of the cows.

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One last love letter...

April 24, 2021

It has taken us some time and patience to come to this decision. TMS would not have seen the success that it did without our readers and the tireless team that ran the magazine for the better part of eight years.

But… all good things must come to an end, especially when we look at the ever-expanding art and literary landscape in Pakistan, the country of the magazine’s birth.

We are amazed and proud of what the next generation of creators are working with, the themes they are featuring, and their inclusivity in the diversity of voices they are publishing. When TMS began, this was the world we envisioned…

Though the magazine has closed and our submissions shuttered, this website will remain open for the foreseeable future as an archive of the great work we published and the astounding collection of diverse voices we were privileged to feature.

If, however, someone is interested in picking up the baton, please email Maryam Piracha, the editor, at [email protected].

Farewell, fam! It’s been quite a ride.

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