Short Story: Of Things with Feathers by Jahanara Tariq

Jahanara Tariq narrates the tale of love and loss through the lens of magical realism.

Rubbing a layer of a corroded, maroon balm on the upper ridge of my nose was a personal ritual whenever I sat down to write. The stench and the viscosity awakened a childlike curiosity in me. In proximity to the wild and in the triangular glow of the battery light, time seemed to stick to my forehead, sleek and silky, evaporating profusely, traveling through damp places untying knots and letting ancient reverberations come into play.

Just a few hours ago, I was in my striped tee, listening to a podcast about lemony summers and Icarus’s faulty wax machine. The quiet simmer followed by the percolation of coffee and my lover engrossed in a heavy edition of Knausgaard was a picture of innocuous bliss, in all its domesticity. Forty minutes on air and a couple of stale sandwiches later, I found myself here, at my father’s disheveled cottage at Molompara. Molom—the Bangla word for balm matched with the name of the village, Molompara. The word “Para” meant neighborhood. I thought I was quite pathetic in my quest to look for meaning.