Freelance writer. Story teller.
I can’t seem to get his face out of my mind. That lost, indifferent look. That look that wanted to be understood. That day at the park. Summers are finally here in Toronto, and I’d be an outright cruel mom if I didn’t take my children to the park often. So this is exactly … More To the kid at the park, I owe you a hug.
Read the original feature on : The Purple Fig ************************************************** “You look just like Munnoo!”said my grandma several years ago. She always called my mom using her childhood nickname. I was standing in my mom’s kitchen, with my back facing her. “Really?” I laughed in surprise. It was probably the way my hair was … More I discovered that I am my Mother’s Daughter
How do I explain to the little inquisitive minds about man’s barbarity? And that it knows no bounds, understands no limits. Just like God’s mercy knows no bounds, and understands no limits. How do I tell them that there is one God? And that anyone who believes in a higher power is looking at the same … More What do I tell my children about God, life and His creations?
My nose is like a mountain, in-your-face-kind-of unavoidable. My dark skin makes me want to go through a permanent whitewash. My skin colour is ghastly transparent, like a cross between Casper and Aloe vera gel. I have crooked teeth, strung together like abstract art. I have a pimple brigade fighting for territory on my face. My chin … More Wednesday Wiseness: Funny Hair. A Not-so-funny life.
Nida Khan Writes 