I. 

I am nine years old, plucking olives
from a twenty-something year old tree,
standing in our courtyard.
I stand on my toes, arms vertical,
reaching out to pluck one more—
one more of those cool green globes in my small palms.
I enter the kitchen with—
my frock, pocket, and hands full of olives.
She takes them from me,
turn pages of her old, wary, fat notebook
with its spice stained pages and half-broken spines
to the recipe of Jhal Jalpai achaar.
I spill molasses, get in her way
as she opens jars, bottles, and boxes
a pinch of this,
a dash of that,
with zero mercy on the dry chillies.
She stirs the whole mix—
of olive, spices, and love
I swim through the smell—
of olive, spices, and memories,
the closest I yet know about being drunk.
"One day love will come to you"
she tells me
with a half smile and lost eyes
She says nothing about big gulps of Gin Mare,
nor the way it will feel
when I resist to call you back.

by Tabassum Islam Susmi
 

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'Cheese': Sehri Tales selections, Day 10

II.

Damn! He's just too cute....it's hard to resist this overwhelming cuteness....
But, I have to do my job. I can't let it get through me. I am Polina, one of the greatest spies my motherland has produced. Failing this mission is not an option.
And I will do it. I will blow this damned lab up. Just one push and this laboratory will be gone. My partner has already stolen the documents. So, once the researchers are dead, we win. But there's this one trouble.
That... Damn! He's just too cute! All I'm supposed to do is push the button. And we'll blame their neighbor country for the casualty, and instigate a war.... So we could sell more of our weapons.
No way I could do that. Fine! I know he won't be happy with me. So I'll leave him here and relocate. Dye my hair. Change my face. Move to another continent. I'm a lone wolf, to begin with.
After all, I couldn't resist that blue-eyed ginger cat that was living a damned lazy life inside the lad. The research team leader's pet.
That day, cuteness saved those two countries.

by Rokeya Asha

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'Long': Sehri Tales selections, Day 9

III.

"Don't resist! Two seconds and it'll be in."
As my mother pushed the suppository in, it felt like two decades instead of seconds for the 11-year-old me.
After twenty years, I still hate those little rascals from the bottom of my heart and…bottom.

by Tajrian Binte Zaman