i s h t a r r i a........

His hair looked shorter than usual when he first appeared in the doorway of my office, so much shorter that I found myself muttering softly, “What made you cut your hair so short? I loved it much more before.” Once more he seemed pretty darn resourceful in picking out the most perfect time for seeing me. I was standing behind my desk when he first arrived. The offices were deserted by everyone save for the advisor with impaired hearing whose condition might have encouraged my atypical temerity. My wit, though, wasn’t wholly present to help me quickly grasp the momentary stillness that accompanied his astonished gaze that my remarks seemed to have invoked, and which made me realize, though late, the foolishness of my “audacity”. The man’s powerful and mesmerizing manhood appeared all too defenseless in the face of such practically unexpected “dewy-eyed flirtation”. And the gratified smile that he shot me was so pregnant that I instantaneously sensed the girlish shyness swashing its red...

Steaming with sweat and legs wobbling with dread, I rushed ahead, trailing Uncle Sam’s heels; my grandpa and Dina also followed suit. The waiting had kept us all on tenterhooks, and my patience had long worn out. The few meters separating the living room from the front door seemed unending. I stood behind Sam, clinging to his shirt, quivering at the thought of whom we might face on the other side of the door—the dear faces of the members of my family or the henchmen of the autocrat. I sighed with relief, however, and my anxiety subsided when I saw my younger brother zooming in the moment Sam pulled the door open, breathlessly letting on some of the good tidings with his innocent question, “You’re going to go to America, Lu?” I sensed the heat of a betraying blush spreading all over my panic-stricken face upon meeting my Dad’s eyes; his reassuring smile, just as ever, had the effect of magic, easing off most of the tension that had held the belt in the pulleys. And I ran towards my fam...

From Ankawa.com

Apprehensive of being caught red-handed , I returned to my seat with my little treasure enfolded in my hand. I skimmed the office area around me, ensuring that I wasn’t been preyed upon, and with a fluttering heart, I opened the drawer pretending to be looking for something inside. I hurriedly threw the small piece of paper inside, and pushed the drawer back with the same speed, eyes still sweeping the vicinity, ascertaining no one was spying on my “grand secret.” Assuming normality, I leaned back in my chair for a few moments, trying to catch my lost breath, and controlling the pleasurable sensations of my body. Patience wearing thin, I re-opened the drawer seconds later, and unfolded the paper I had placed inside, not forgetting though to grab my small mirror that I kept in the drawer, in order to give the pretence of a routine feminine checking of make-up. My eyes surveyed the office one last time before they devoured avidly the words on the paper. It was a concise letter of six or ...

I sensed a delicious warmth pervade my whole body as I walked next to him the nearly two hundred meters that took us outside the building. It was an incredibly sensational feeling, something novel that I had never experienced before, and which, much to my surprise, swept away all the abominable sense of desolation and despondency, let alone the bruised ego, and the silent fury that had gripped me, eating on my nerves for days; all seemed to have magically vanished, becoming more like a thing of the remote past. And the occasionally inadvertent brushing of my shoulder against his arm, as we walked side by side, was so stirring. We were like a wonderful twosome that must have been created and made only for one another. And the two halves of the one apple did seem like they were finally placed closely together. My emotions for him flared up, and became so hard to suppress, or inhibit. It didn’t truly matter much then if the whole world was watching our togetherness. My preciously guarded...

From my peripheraI vision, I glimpsed him entering the office at the beginning of the following week, with the same air of composure and unflappability. And after a few shuttling trips between the coffee machine and Tom’s office, wherein he had stationed himself, chatting for most of the duration, he finally entered my office when the opportunity offered. His familiar footstep heralded his entry, but I lacked the least desire to raise my head, much less welcome him. The pile of papers before me had become my only asylum, wherein I buried my slaughtered pride under a tumultuous sea of shock and pain. Desperation had eventually taken me over, bringing up an incapacitated calm, which challenged and subdued his silence as he stood near my desk. “I’m leaving at the end of this week,” he proclaimed calmly. “You’re going to follow me in about two months.” He dictated his unilateral plan with an air of vexatious sureness. I had always seen so much love and affection in his eyes not to recogni...

Despite its enfeebling blow, the encounter with mum seemed to have unencumbered me of the abominable sense of guilt that had been beleaguering me for the past few months for hiding the secret of my romance with Martin from my parents. And despite the worrisome uncertainty of my parents’ reaction, I drifted into a tranquil and peaceful sleep the moment my head touched the pillow, totally oblivious of the roughshod treatment that Martin was designing for me, and which was going to make everything else seem relatively light and bearable. Having brought the interrogation to a close, mum was anxious to take me home, but I escaped her persistence by claiming exhaustion and fatigue. Dina supported my excuses, sparing me yet another weighty encounter, this time with my dad, which I, given the already charged situation, was desperate to put off as long as I could. Mum, anyhow, left tight-lipped. And from the little she had breathed, I gathered that she was going to discuss the matter in depth ...

Mum wasn’t naïve enough, however, to buy my defensive claim that Martin was like any other suitor. “Is he?” Mum asked, arching her eyebrow. “Well, listen up Liana,” she carried on with a firmer tone. “Dina has told me everything that I needed to know, but I want to hear it from you now; and when I say everything, I mean it, Liana! You hear me? Everything!” I straightened slightly, leaning my back against the headboard, and I sat still for a few moments, my heart thumping wildly, and my mind trying hard to marshal its jumbled thoughts in preparation for the arduous “cross examination.” Well, it was judgment day alright! Notwithstanding, it dawned on me that I mustn’t bury my head in the sand and indulge myself in wishful thinking. For any further attempt to blot out or obscure the truth had not only become utterly unfeasible, but was also futile since it wasn’t going to serve any purpose. Moreover, I was racing with time. Martin was in the process of arranging for his final departure ...

I leaned against the copier, my back pressed to it, and stood, hands folded against my chest, anxious for an explanation. He maintained what seemed to be an everlasting silence, settling his smiling eyes provocatively on mine. My thin patience ran even thinner, and surprisingly contrary to my shy nature, I took the initiative, killing the nervous wait, “What is this all about?” “I told you,” he replied and reiterated calmly his previous reply, “It’s about time.” His provocative demeanor inflamed further my stifled rage, which I sensed now to be surging, engulfing my head and burning my face, which must’ve been glowing red. Despite my befuddlement, I was aware of how much he was enjoying this ungoverned manifestation of emotions. “And what’re you up to now?” I asked, assaying hard not to betray my feelings. But such self-control was unnecessary since the question in itself was quite revealing, and had said it all. I was hoping that he was surely going to talk about us, about me,...

I almost dropped the receiver when it was handed over to me by Fury ; I was at sea, not knowing what to say, or how to broach the conversation. A few moments of tranquilizing procrastination that were punctuated by drags of deep breath finally helped me manage a few words, “Hi…Martin.” I was striving for normalcy, but my disobediently wayward emotions declared themselves vividly through my quivering voice. And my helpless apprehension reigned, overarching the crushed emotions that were still clinging to a thin line of fading hope, and pleading heartily within myself for an alternate tell, “Don’t, don’t say it, please don’t. What I heard cannot be true; I am certain you love me enough to spare me all this pain.” Disengaging me from my tumult of silent pleas, his voice came through the line, justifiably reserved and cautious, yet as reassuring as ever, “Hi Lu… how’re you?” Well, even though his words reflected his wonted composure, yet “Lu” would’ve by no means missed the tinge of anxi...

Fury sat facing me, begging and importuning and pressing me to call him. But sunk in a deep valley, I was oblivious to her urging, her bidding me to piece my shattered world together, and restore the felled clarity of my mind. Not sure how long she went on with her adamant pleading, but the humming of my ears all of a sudden grew louder as I sensed an abrupt silence prevailing. Don’t know if it were that Fury finally gave up trying, or that it were merely a tactical retreat that usually ensues an attack? All I could remember when I raised my heavy-laden head was her statue-like posture. She smiled when my disoriented and wet eyes met hers, the smile of a true and genuine friend, hurriedly reassuring me. But a mute unresponsiveness was all I could offer. The sympathetic moment when our glances held was disrupted by my reaching out to the tissue box that was sitting on my desk, and feebly pulling out a few sheets to wipe my tear-stained face. I was helpless and rudderless as a small bo...

I received an email from one of Ishtarria's friends querying if my irregular posting is the result of having lost the drive or desire required to complete my book online. I would like to confirm that the reverence that I carry in my heart and soul for this wonderful phase of my life, and the hard work that I have already put into the writing of my book online, make the finishing of what I have started a foregone conclusion . It's my demanding new job, however, and the difficulties of reliving the pain of the parts to come that are behind this irregular posting. However, to all the readers of Ishtarria I say: trust that I will certainly be back, irrespective of the lengthy periods of my absences. Please bear with me. I am on the final touches of the next post. Will publish it in a few days.

Fury’s words precipitated down on me like a devastating hurricane, which wound its inclement hands around my neck, thrusting my soul out of my body, and hurling it ruthlessly up into the remotest skies, only to be cast down again, smashed to smithereens. My whole body went numb, painfully numb, and shock produced a lump in my throat, sucking it dry as if sandpaper had been scraping against it. And even though every bone and muscle in my body ached with shivery cold, I was, in a space of a few seconds, drowning in an inundating sweat. As if placed in a big block of ice, my feet and hands trembled and screamed their blistering pain in oceans of sweat. Bedeviled and struck dumb, I sat motionless as the dead, bidding my hardest to come alive from an impaling nightmare, which, with every breathless attempt that I would make to break loose from its smothering grip, would pierce me deeper down, and swallow me further into its bottomless abyss. I tried to find my voice, but it just vanished. ...

She is unruly, willful and recalcitrant. Like an erratic comet, she magnetizes her readers, knavishly and cunningly, into her enchanting course, sending them soaring high in the breadth of the sky, emancipating their curbed minds and hearts, and satiating their wills and desires with the salacious relishes that the shackling politics, religion and society had rigorously tabooed. Having hooked me to her writings for over two years now, she often made me laugh, and at the same time, cry. And much as she pleased and warmed my heart at times, she enraged me no less at others, such that I would leave, promising never ever to be back, a promise I never kept. I would find myself longing within a short time for the unique flavor of her pen. And on her expected publishing date, I would turn head over heels, only to be incensed again, but this time, at her absence Who am I talking about? Who else but, Elen Ghulam… The wild horse of the Iraqi Blogsphere, the Iraqi-Canadian Shahrazad, who’s never ...

It was early morning on a Wednesday. Wearing an ominously overcast face, he arrived at work unusually late, nearly two weeks following the fateful storeroom episode. My heart hadn’t beaten so fast since; bad thoughts and worse scenarios were festering inside my mind. Well, while he seemed to have perfectly understood, respected and never ceased to love me, he had never been himself since that day. And not only his average daily visits of five had declined perplexingly to three, or at times to barely two, he had also grown increasingly taciturn, behaving distantly, his eyes seeming to dodge mine. Having been enfolded for months in his prodigious love and indulgent attention, I found those two weeks of restrained attention from him excruciatingly troubling. Being forcefully introduced now to such an unprecedentedly abrupt rationing of love and emotions, the passionately demanding female in me that had been formed by his excessive love felt all the more keenly his withdrawal. And I respo...