I’m pleased to announce the winning entry for The Asian Writer New Writing Competition…
 
(drum roll)
 
Well done to GD Stickland (who you may remember also won the poetry category in our 2008 competition).
 
Roads, North and South
A pantoum
My friend, when you were only four
and dreaming of owning a bike,
and riding so fast on the shore
I smiled. For we were so alike.
From dreaming of owning a bike,
on the shore road now, you and I ride
and I smile for we are so alike
in jet black leather side by side.
When now, here along the shore; …

By Shruti Parija
Snap went the bond that begun in great revelry
With the umbilical cord
The bond that was meant to nurture
To care, to love, to understand
The yesteryears were proof enough
That the bond God forged was beleaguered
Bit by bit, Piece by Piece
Unstrumming the strings of my essence
Untying the proverbial knot
Here I am
A tattered soul, a battered self
Yearning for your love
For you to comprehend your own flesh
To make amends
To extend a hand of friendship and of warmth
Green eyed I turn
At the sight of an outstretched hand
Resentful I alter to
At the mention of an …

By Najma Yusufi
Yasmeen Begum divorced her first husband for the better prospect of the second. He died. She then married again. The third marriage was still going because he had a title and hadn’t let her kill him, yet. His title was something she had always craved. She became Mrs Khan of Hoti. My special training was at Yasmeen Begum’s it would cover all a servant girl should know.
On the second day of my instruction, I kneaded dough in the large kitchen at the back of the house, and I …

by Farah Ghuznavi

I’m not crazy, you know, even if they’ve sent me to you for an assessment! My husband wants me committed to a Rest-and-Reprogramming facility “for self-protection”. For his own protection, Jai means…

The consequences of marrying a much younger man chrystallised with my daughter’s arrival; Jai didn’t want to be a grown-up, let alone a father.

Indian cultural conventions still favour women marrying ‘mature’ men. But I’d realised men never grow up anyway, so their age at …

‘So what exactly did you decide?’
It was two years later that Sato-san put the question to me. The two of us had been hiding for two whole bloody years, terrified every single moment while moving about in the marshes along the river, where I caught small, skimpy meals to support us. We couldn’t turn back to our unit, because Cesaru had probably reported us as leak, and we imagined all kinds of humiliations for discredited and dishonoured deserters. Once Sato-san, in his good-will, heroic mood, even suggested that we turned …

He was glad he had a Thai-Indian girlfriend. On military leaves he didn’t have to go back to the States anymore where the war followed him everywhere. Daily, you could see something about Iraq. It was all around. Americans protesting on the streets, politicians debating on the television, columnists writing in newspapers, the president giving speeches from the White House, people talking about it while doing their weekly shopping. He didn’t hate the war he was fighting in, he just hated the people he was fighting for.
As a matter of …

Three Poems
By Ruth V. Mostrales
1.     Pentatonic
One.  “The music box will go,” said Mother, impatient.
She was speaking to the child in me who will never part with it.
Two.  I closed my eyes and thought of the days when promises
were spoken in melodious haste, but there’s no time to bask in the leisure of
idyll and reminiscence, for she nudged me and I was to decide at once.
Three.  The philosophy of the music box, that’s what I call it.
There’s an entire eternity in what doesn’t end.
With unfinished repertoires is the prolongation of ambiguity.
Four.  …

It was supposed to be a joke.
After so many years I bumped into my best friend from childhood, Kelly in the local launderette.  We greeted each other with a big hug and wished each other a Happy New 2011. She introduced me to her 14 year old daughter Tilly. I couldn’t believe that time had passed by so quickly. We continued chatting about our families and endeavours over the years since we’d lost touch.
“How’s your mum?” Kelly asked.
Maa was sitting at the other end of the launderette chatting to one …

STARBUCKS, near the corner of Albert Square is crowded with people taking a break from their office work; smart men and women reading a book or a newspaper. There were many strangely named coffees and at the beginning I was confused; espresso, cappuccino, caramel macchiato- all expensively priced.  The cups would be too big for a coffee- and I paid the high price because I didn’t want to look stupid in front of the pretty smiling girl; when all I wanted was a simple cup of regular coffee.
 Across the road …

As I lay here, I feel as if i’m sleeping forever,
The fear of sleeping forever, scares me
It scares me by the way, I hear voices,
Not knowing who it is,
Just laying there sleeping
The sounds of machines beeping
people rushing around weeping
‘He’s gone, she’s gone’
But i’m here just sleeping
wondering whether I’ll be sleeping forever
or will I ever see light again.
My body is numb and lifeless
just sleeping and seeking
I can feel all these tunnels of life within me
but which one do I choose?
I feel my soul walking away from me
I can hear people weeping,
as …