Iftehaz Yeasir Iftee

Long before Pinterest boards and Instagram FYP, the Eid shongkha dictated what we wore.

The scramble was almost instantaneous and without mercy. Men in freshly tailored panjabis—stitched for the next morning's prayers—threw elbows for the simple right to go back home.

A chipped teacup, warmed in my hands, Is love when you stir in the honey, unasked,

My memoirs of 2025, do you know I want to forget you?

I never considered reading authors’ letters. “How can personal letters be considered literature?”–I thought.

If you have ever carried a tote bag to a coffee shop solely to place it on the table next to a freshly prepared matcha latte, you already know the assignment. Reading, in the modern era, isn’t really about “reading” or enjoying a story—it is about signaling. It is about letting the person seated at the next table know that while you could be doomscrolling TikTok, you choose to instead engage with a higher form of brain simulation.

It’s very likely that Substack will become the “drawing room” of intellectuals and creative elites.

This year’s Booker Prize will be announced on November 10 in a ceremony that will be broadcast live on BBC Radio 4 and livestreamed on Booker Prize’s social channels.