Ishrat's writing has been described as lyrical and evocative with elements of magical realism and historical fiction. Her work examines social issues, including migration, women's experiences, identity, caste, and power structures. Many of Ishrat's short stories are cross-cultural accounts inspired by true-life incidents.
Ishrat's manuscript of medical short stories examines the human side of practicing medicine, including the physician-patient relationship, the role of empathy, and its emotional toll.
The Last Tango
“What are my chances if I decide to go through all this?”
“About forty percent,” I reply looking at my trembling fingers.
“Complete cure?”
“No, remission. We will monitor you…”
Osvaldo starts to laugh, a genuine laughter of merriment, not despair.
“You look too somber today Doc” he said.
“Don’t you care?” I ask wondering if the shock has been too much for him.
“I do care. This is just like Tango Doc, the dance of life and death, the dance of love and its unfulfilled endings. He stands up abruptly and looks out of the window where grey clouds have gathered in preparation for rain. Then he turns around and, in a voice filled with hesitation, he says, “May I request a favor from you, doctor?
“Certainly.”
“Will you come with me to the Argentine Milongas tonight? This is Tango night. I would like you to be my partner.”
“Yes,” I answer, looking down at my feet, afraid he might see the moisture on my eyelashes.
We both know this will be the last tango for my patient, David Osvaldo.
____________
The Subtle Fragrance of Crushed Orchids
I recognize the man waiting near the elevator – he is Nandini’s client, and we enter together. I hear laughter of the women as the doors of the elevator close behind us. The scent of crushed hot- house orchids clinging to this man makes me light-headed, and by the time we reach the ground floor I feel faint. I step outside into the harsh wind and take a deep breath.
Realization hits me like lightning. The treatments I offer my patients can never compete with the treatments offered at The Mind and Body Institute.
I have lost the battle to the crushed orchids tangled among the curls of the therapist on Fifth and Broadway.
____________
Locked-in Syndrome
When I awakened from a coma five years ago, my mind was intact. From my hospital window, I could see a long line of men and women winding down the hill. The sun was shining, and dandelions lay scattered among the green grass. A woman wore white. Her veil fluttered. Bagpipes played a song which sounded like Danny Boy, but I couldn't decide if the procession was a wedding or a funeral. My physicians said I had contracted a severe form of Guillan Barre. The viral infection had not affected my vision, hearing, or ability to feel pain, but it had left me with motor paralysis – I couldn’t move or speak. Since I had not been able to communicate with anyone for six weeks, the neurology team decided I had developed Locked-in syndrome.
It was only after the insurance company sent a used van equipped with a lift to accommodate me, that I heard my mother weep behind her closed door. She had just realized my life was over.