Zarina Divided

Reading Zarina felt like holding a piece of someone’s real memories — tender, imperfect, and full of heart.
From the very first page, I was drawn into Zarina’s world — the vibrant home she loved, the simple joys like swinging over the compost heap, and the deep bonds she shared with friends and family.

As the story unfolds against the backdrop of Partition, you feel every small crack forming in her life. The fear, the anger, the heartbreak of losing friendships and leaving behind the only home she’s ever known — it’s all written so honestly. Zarina’s voice doesn’t just tell you what’s happening; she makes you feel it.

There were so many moments where I had to pause — not because the words were complicated, but because they hit somewhere deep. Especially the scenes with Khushboo, her ayah — those quiet exchanges held so much unspoken love.

What stayed with me the most is how Reem Faruqi captured something that’s hard to explain: how a child understands — and sometimes doesn’t fully understand — the ways the world can break apart.


And yet, even with all the loss, there’s a sense of hope, stitched into the spaces between the verses.

I’m so grateful I got to read this early. Zarina isn’t just a book about history — it’s a story about what it feels like to say goodbye to everything familiar, and still find pieces of yourself you can carry forward.