Asad Hussain Jung

Scattered Ashes

Asad Hussain Jung


We took her on ship, the rocky Arabian Sea our road

We protected her tightly, gripping her cold metal against

Our sun-browned skin. We looked suspicious as we looked

Into the murky water. Coloured by years of waste and litter,

Could this be her new home? The thought made us guilty.

The water began to clear, as we moved past the filth that the

Land and water was glued by. Old colonial buildings reminded

Us that this land was ours, then not. She loved nothing, but

Those that she created. Like a star blast, she feared no destruction.

To create was to love.

Now, with holy roses we scatter her

She, whose dust formed us

Whose love allowed the gravity necessary for existence.

Allah Hafiz

cut calls

Asad Hussain Jung


I wrote this piece thinking about a land that I had to leave, a land I fell in love with, and a land that is indifferent to my existence in it.

Stagger, beads stroll down my face,

I am taken away from a land lost.

Who steals me from this land but my home?

She calls to me in an icy tone, suctions me towards,

I grab onto whatever I can hold,

though my grip has no reciprocation.

Held for so many days, so many warm nights,

like a newborn I am shoved into a world without choice.

Who calls upon me? I ask but receive no answer.

Warm winds whisper passive farewells,

they are wiser than I,

who clutches ghost hands that tickle,

who shouts at old sages that are stone.

Sitting in my home

The place that they tell me

I am from

I wait for a warm breeze

A soft tap of a drum

The pluck of a string

I hear these sounds

I am pulled

Only to look and see

That it is my own hand gripped around my wrist

And my own voice that whistles tunes

Epistolary Enterprise

Asad Hussain Jung

ISSUE NO. 1 • To Have a heart

I wrote this piece after a bad break-up that reactivated some poor eating habits from my childhood, problems I thought had long been conquered. This is a little peek into my idea of self-love, and how food and nourishment plays a role in it. To anyone that has dealt or is dealing with eating disorders or problems, food is a human right. You deserve it.

Dear Body,

Food is a human right. You deserve to be nutrified. I know that after she left us, her, who was our air, our water, our nutrition, our sunlight, our strength, it felt as though there was no more power in us to feed ourselves. We felt so empty that not even food, nor water, could fill us, could make us feel whole. For days we have had nothing to eat, our sleep was accompanied by a vacant stomach, and the lack of energy pushed us further into the bed, further into half-sleeps, waking dreams that were drooling, unsure of what they were craving. When food was laid upon the table, thinking back, it was the most succulent mutton, the naan thick with ghee, a meal that would satiate the hungriest man, the sustenance that normally would fulfill a wanting tummy for days and nights, our eyes could see nothing but things we did not deserve, our nose inhaling scents it was too numb to enjoy. Moments came with a morsel, or a sniff, enjoyment rode in on a blinded horse, pain struck with each step, lashes of guilt. As we went through the motions, a giddy sensation took us over, a borderline hallucination of near-starvation induced euphoria, an intense lack of love forcing us to react, an imitation of self-love. Near tears, in a shifting classroom, we wished for a full belly, for the feeling that came with it, but not for the process, not for the path. Food is a human right, you deserve it, I tried to convince you. I forced you to bite into a piece of something, it didn’t seem to be food, akin to a hologram, a forgotten parcel, a lost message. You rejected it vehemently, but you swallowed.

We build self-love slowly. It’s a process. Bite by bite, sip by sip,

We will get there, together.

Food is a human right. You deserve it.