An Original Short Story by Sanniah Hassan. © The Sanniah Experience! (TSE) The neem tree stood in all its majesty engulfed in mystery, like nothing Aalia had seen before. She remembered tales her Dadi used to tell her as a child — of the jinns and chudails that lived in such trees by day and preyed on vivacious young children by night, but it wasn’t a sight she had ever seen before. This neem tree brought back those memories, as if a strong wind swished across her face, making her lose her balance. She had always believed that the stories her Dadi narrated were just that — stories. Man-made tales to entertain children as mere trifles to pass the time but, recent experiences, much like the neem tree before her, begged to differ. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that all she believed to be true, and all she believed to be figments of her imagination were in fact an alternate reality in a parallel dimension. What struck her as the most shocking of ordeals was that she was s...
Original Poem by Sanniah Hassan Content warning: mentions of death, climate disaster, and displacement. Note: This poem reflects on the devastating floods that have swept through Pakistan, capturing the grief, loss, and helplessness experienced by survivors and witnesses. It is a call to remember those affected and to reckon with the realities of climate change. One moment all was clear, The next I couldn’t breathe. As the noise blared through the TV One dead, dozens wounded – Its noise ringing in my ears. The water came at once, they said, No end in sight. Uprooting trees, drowning cattle, Displacing families – Leaving not a soul about. The police cars blared their sirens Visiting neighbourhoods sounding alarm Cautioning people to stay inside Lest they lose their lives. The damage had been done – Life in shambles across villages Hope drowned with the current My people bled. Their te...