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Between Me and the Story

Between Me and the Story I had picked up the pen that day with the intention of writing a story. I sat down with complete concentration, but the television set had been left switched on. Since I am no TV addict--even popular serials and programmes leave me cold--I ordinarily can continue with my reading and writing, unperturbed and unaffected by whatever's on. That day, it wasn't so. What disturbed my concentration was not a particularly riveting serial or a lively game show. Rather, a very serious programme was being aired: a demonstration of national pride focused on Pakistan's experiments with the atomic bomb. A mighty explosion was shown being set off; the earth rumbled and shook. Then I saw the mountain on the screen quiver ever so slightly, and its colour began to change imperceptibly, like the colour fading from a human face. I put down my pen. Or perhaps it stopped writing on its own and I had no other option but to put it down. In my childhood, whenever there was a lunar or solar eclipse, my father would put aside all his chores and sit on the prayer rug. He would offer two prayers, which he called the Prayers of http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

Between Me and the Story

Manoa , Volume 27 (1) – Sep 29, 2015

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2008 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x
Publisher site
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Abstract

I had picked up the pen that day with the intention of writing a story. I sat down with complete concentration, but the television set had been left switched on. Since I am no TV addict--even popular serials and programmes leave me cold--I ordinarily can continue with my reading and writing, unperturbed and unaffected by whatever's on. That day, it wasn't so. What disturbed my concentration was not a particularly riveting serial or a lively game show. Rather, a very serious programme was being aired: a demonstration of national pride focused on Pakistan's experiments with the atomic bomb. A mighty explosion was shown being set off; the earth rumbled and shook. Then I saw the mountain on the screen quiver ever so slightly, and its colour began to change imperceptibly, like the colour fading from a human face. I put down my pen. Or perhaps it stopped writing on its own and I had no other option but to put it down. In my childhood, whenever there was a lunar or solar eclipse, my father would put aside all his chores and sit on the prayer rug. He would offer two prayers, which he called the Prayers of

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: Sep 29, 2015

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