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I used to think buying in bulk was smart. Shampoo on sale, soap packs at half price, extra toothpaste “just in case.” Then those extras would slowly invade the bathroom. Bottles lined the sink ledge, the narrow shelf above the toilet disappeared, and the under-sink area became a cramped mess of half-used containers. In our … Read more
Our bathroom used to be the one room I avoided looking at too closely. After a shower, the mirror would fog up, the sink ledge would collect water spots, towels would stay slightly damp for days, and the little shelf above the toilet would slowly grow black mould spots in the corners. In our small … Read more
I used to dread opening certain cupboards. I knew I had bought that packet of cumin last month, but finding it meant moving ten other things, knocking over half-used masalas, and eventually giving up and buying another one. In our small flat, this happened in the kitchen, the wardrobe, and even the bathroom. We bought … Read more
Some weeks feel like they move at double speed. Work deadlines pile up, kids have extra classes or exams, the kitchen runs nonstop, and before you know it, the house has quietly slipped into chaos. In small Pakistani homes — where space is already tight,t and multiple people share the same rooms — a few … Read more
The morning after a big family get-together used to feel like a quiet punishment for the warmth of the night before. The house that had been full of laughter, the smell of biryani, and children running between rooms would suddenly look like a storm had passed through. Dirty plates stacked on every surface, prayer mats … Read more
I used to dread the end of the day during Ramadan. After cooking iftar, praying taraweeh, and managing the family, I’d look around and see the kitchen counter buried under dirty dishes, prayer mats scattered, water bottles left everywhere, and the living room looking like it had hosted a small storm. The house felt overwhelming, … Read more
Ramadan in our small flat used to feel like a beautiful contradiction. The house would smell of freshly fried pakoras and sheer khurma, the iftar table would be set with care, but by the time we finished eating, the kitchen counter would be buried under dirty dishes, prayer mats would be scattered, and the living … Read more
There was a time when I would come home, drop my bag by the door, and within minutes the counter would be covered with lunch boxes, the sofa would have a pile of clothes, and the floor would have a trail of shoes and toys. By evening, the whole house felt overwhelming, even though I … Read more
Coming home should feel like a relief, not another chore. Yet in many small rented flats across Pakistan, the entrance is the first place that reminds you how tight the space really is. Shoes pile up blocking the door, bags get tossed on the nearest chair, and keys disappear the moment you need them. In … Read more
Every six months, the same scene played out in our small rented flat. I’d open the cupboard looking for a light kurta and get buried under a pile of winter sweaters. Or I’d lift the bed cover to grab a blanket and find last season’s cotton shalwar mixed in with heavy woollens. The room felt … Read more