In the hallowed embrace of a historic library, where the scent of aged paper mingles with the soft rustle of turning pages, I found myself immersed in a literary reverie last evening. The occasion? A gathering under the aegis of Bradford Writes, a beacon of cultural luminescence amid Bradford’s radiant designation as the UK City of Culture 2025. This was no mere event; it was a confluence of souls, a symphony of voices, and a testament to the enduring power of the written word.
A great evening, sharing words with an appreciative audience surrounded by books. A few of my books also sold and appreciation felt, for the diverse nature of my written word!
This gathering owed its grace to Nabeela Ahmed, a poetess of rare eloquence whose verses dance across English, Urdu, and Pahari. Her stewardship of Bradford Writes, acknowledged in Peter’s heartfelt post, echoes her triumph at the 2020 Keighley Arts and Film Festival, where her poetry unfurled like a banner of cultural unity. Beside her, Dee de BonBonne’s venue, its architecture a testament to Bradford’s rich heritage, provided a sanctuary where stories could breathe and flourish.
As Bradford unfurls its 2025 cultural tapestry, this event wove a thread of profound significance. The city’s ambition to host 1,000 new performances, including 365 artist commissions and audio artworks at waterside listening benches, finds resonance here.
In that library, time seemed to pause. The creak of chairs, the murmur of appreciation, the flicker of pages, all conspired to create a moment of communion. As I reflect, I am struck by the notion that literature, like Bradford itself, is a living entity, ever-evolving yet rooted in its past. This evening was a stanza in that ongoing poem, a celebration of voices that echo beyond the shelves, inviting us all to listen, to read, to dream. Until the next chapter unfolds, I invite you to linger in this memory with me.
Nabeela Ahmed Bradford Writes-
Is there anything better than being told a story or read a poem to by the author themselves? We were spoilt tonight by Peter Kay who left us wondering if the mole was introduced to a potential friend, and with a list poem including a decoration piece from her grandparents wedding; Sue Butler took us face to face with a magnificent whale, then we watched her quickly scribble down a poem as she watched it perform itself in front of her eyes. We visited grief, social media and streams in my poems and #SimonTindale reminded us how much we hate, hate, hate going to sleep at 8 at any age! Shahnaz Ahsan took us on food journeys from edges cut egg mayo sandwiches to forbidden scotch eggs from her food memoir and recipe book out on the 17th. Alison Harrop took us on a voyage to the New World and I felt the suffocation of the dark spaces and hated the bland food and wandered what happened to the maiden and her baby. Mike Baynham took us to Pahari and we met the lonely old lady on the moon, to Italian and we travelled from Afghanistan and through Ukrainian we felt the significance of the simple act of lying naked next to your love, without the fear of not having clothes nearby in case you need to run for your life. Ishtiaq Mir اشتیاق میر ۔ reminded of us in Urdu of hard times when you can’t trust those from your own city and that longing in every heart to be loved by someone who feels their world is incomplete without you. We finished with Matt Hill (Ryan Hill as writer) reading from his 24 short stories for each of the BD postcodes with Ayesha who volunteers for Cartwright Gallery wanting to guard each painting as though it should never be seen. Good friends popped in and I couldn’t do this without the support of Bradford Libraries
And definitely not without the opening and closing doors, refreshments providing, all around setting up and trouble shooting presence of Dee de BonBonne!
And when I drove back over the moors, the white wool moon greeted me. https://www.facebook.com/nabeela.ahmed.127