Nazar

Mama calls me wilted, a flower bending inwards. In other words, depressed. Nani calls it nazar. A remedy, an illness. Carried by all. Contagious. Tightrope between keeping appearances and keeping a distance. “Nazar lagayi.” It touched you. Caressed your luck, as you naively crossed its path. His headaches. Her skin. The mangled car on the … Read More