Nida Sajid

Nida Sajid is a postdisciplinary educator, organiser and writer. She holds an MA in Cultural Studies from Birkbeck, University of London, specialising in experimental literature. Her poems have appeared in Covert Literary Magazine, StepAway Magazine, Gather Zine and multiple anthologies. Her debut novelette COOP is forthcoming with Hajar Press in December 2025.  

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Dum

That time we drove from Lahore to D.G.

Khan, bundled in the back seat of a slate

Mehran. Flanked by soft toys and a flask of

Jam-e-Shirin, we peer through smeared glass. The

night is nascent, rubbing ribbons of light

from jaded eyes. Chalo, sab khair se jao.

Six hours later, Badi khala greets us

with a lavish spread of halwa puri.

Mash’Allah, Ammi beams, sinking into

a cloud of upholstery. You yell Aloo

chole, balle balle before blowing

honeyed giggles into slick, ghee-laced air.

We tuck in, pluck spiced morsels off floral

plates. Kiya baat hai, Abu croons, cradling

a peach donga. Abhi to neechay lag

gaya, Khala protests with creased cheeks as

you slide under the dining table to

trace the dry tributaries of her heels.

The next day, Chote mamu takes us to

Rani Bazaar on his puffed-up Vespa.

We hop over speed bumps, grey puffs of dust

engulfing us. He buys a gold kurta

for me and glittering pumps for you. You’re

delighted, deeming it your Eid outfit.

You spend the rest of the week pretending

to be royalty. The morning of our

return, you totter around the veranda,

gilded feet making concrete sing. Nana

jee saunters past with a weathered miswak,

an off-white dhoti draped around his waist.

He pauses to appraise you as I trace

chalky squares for stapu. Wah bhai wah, nai

jootay! Hand on hip, you quip, Abhi to

neechay lag gaye. He guffaws with such

force, Khala runs out mid-roti. That’s my

Apa, I say as the porch rejoices.1

1 An attempt at translation:

Dum	Breath, life, spirit and a slow-cooking technique
Jam-e-Shirin	Flavoured cordial
Chalo, sab khair se jao	Have a safe journey
Badi khala	Eldest aunt
Halwa puri	Semolina pudding and deep-fried flatbread
Mash’Allah	As God has willed
Ammi	Mum
Aloo chole, balle balle	Potato and chickpea curry, hurray
Kiya baat hai	Well done, bravo
Abu	Dad
Abhi to neechay lag gaya	Food spoilt by sticking to the bottom of the pan
Chote mamu	Youngest uncle
Nana jee	Grandpa
Stapu	Hopscotch
Wah bhai wah, nai jootay	Wow, new shoes
Abhi to neechay lag gaye	Shoes tainted by touching the ground
Apa	Older sister

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