“Slam!” the door banged open, and Ali walked in red-faced. Dad was replacing a fused bulb in the living room. He looked up and raised
O PHARAOHS OF OUR TIME BY KIRAN SHAH Is this how you want your stories told, O Pharaohs of our
Ali wheeled down the park on his shiny black bike in the lovely November breeze. Not far, he spotted Omar and Hassan talking to a
“I hate math!” protested Ali, with a firm chin held high. Mom reasoned with a smile: “There are many things in life that we hate,
“Oh, come on! Don’t be so secretive. After all, I am your brother. Tell me, how will you solve this problem?” pleaded Ali with Samra
“Pakistan Ka Matlab Kiya?” Omar hollered at the top of his lungs, while waving Pakistan’s flag. “La Ilaha Illa Allah!” shouted Ali. “Why are you
Ali and Omar were racking their brains for their upcoming exams. They flipped and skimmed through the pages of their Urdu textbook, groaning and moaning.
“I want to sleep!” whined Ali, digging deeper into his soft dark blue comforter. “It’s Fajr. You have already missed the Jamaat. Now rise and
“You were born to whine and whimper!” Saad pulled a face and laughed out loud at Sarah. Sarah turned crimson red and dignifiedly replied to
Samra Apa was busy re-arranging her bedroom furniture. There were tall stacks of books scattered around. All the closet doors were wide open. She was
