Writer · Artist · بختاور
A home for stories that live in the space between language and feeling — where Urdu breathes inside English and metaphors do what explanations cannot.
Short story
A river does not run toward the sea because she is foolish. She runs because that is what rivers were told they are supposed to do — and this is the story of what happens when she finally stops.
Essay
The thing about first love is it does not ask permission to rearrange you.
Prose poetry
As if infinity were something you could say in a corridor and walk away from.
About
I am Bakhtawark — بختاور — a writer and artist living somewhere between Urdu and English, between what happened and what it meant. I write literary prose, poetry, and long-form stories about love, identity, grief, and the quiet violence of being misunderstood.
My work lives at the intersection of metaphor and feeling — where rivers carry heartbreak and the moon forgets she has her own light.
"Not every story ends with two people. Some stories end with one woman, finally whole, walking into the light she built herself."
— She Who Ran to the Sea
For collaborations, feedback, or just to say a piece found you at the right time — reach out. Words are always welcome here.