Something Might Fall
By David Flusfeder
Salt Publishing
ISBN: 9781784633714
80pp.

David Flusfeder holds the position of director of creative writing at the University of Kent at Canterbury, an institution that proudly counts two major international Nobel Laureates as part of its legacy — the talented Japanese Kazuo Ishiguro and the Tanzanian Abdur Razzak Gurnah. Canterbury equally proudly lays claim to two of Britain’s most influential classic authors — Geoffrey Chaucer and Christopher Marlowe.

As his recent, brilliant novella, Something Might Fall, indicates, Flusfeder (who is of an Anglo-American background) holds his own against this backdrop, with a grace and sophistication that leaves one marvelling, especially since the novella genre is a slippery and difficult one to cope with.

Released and launched in May 2026, the novella is divided into two main sections. Its time span includes the years 1970 and 1974, and is set in New York, particularly the Upper West Side, where the main female protagonist, Emma Sawyer (her maiden name was Hoffman), resides.

The first segment deals with the inner angst Emma suffers at having to act as the consummate hostess and socialite for her husband, Nicholas Sawyer, an affluent doctor. A deeply loving and dedicated mother to her six-year-old son, Nicky, Emma feels increasingly trapped by a world where the slightest breach of social etiquette, even if inadvertent or a genuine mistake, can result in resentment and consequences that can all too easily escalate into a social crisis.

An upper-class New York wife and mother in the 1970s finds herself suffocated by the demands of social performance and the loss of her own self in a brilliant new novella

More importantly, we sympathise even further with this “poor little rich girl” because she gave up a career as a writer in order to ensure that her husband’s domestic life runs on lines that are smooth to the point of being quasi-military in their efficiency. Flusfeder’s major strength as a writer lies in his remarkably astute eye for detail. Even Emma’s meeting with a friend, Nina Weiss, who is grumpy and peeved at not being invited to one of the Sawyers’ social events, is carefully choreographed. It takes place at a deli and I was impressed by the finely tuned use of language that enables Flusfeder to give clarity to what would otherwise be entirely mundane.

As a customer standing in line before Emma and Nina argues volubly with the man on the other side of the deli counter, reference is made to “lox and tongue” — which ostensibly refers to the meat being ordered — but the tongue-in-cheek joke implied by the author is that everyone (including Emma and Nina, not to mention the reader) hopes the woman will finally see fit to put locks on her tongue and move on. Nina lets go of her grudge and invites Emma to a party she is now deciding to host, but the exchange is socially awkward to the point of being painful.

One sighs as we are introduced to Emma’s life, which has gone from being that of a promising writer to one that consists of carefully calibrated social minutiae, which pile up until the protagonist feels nothing short of stifled. I do not intend to spoil the novella by revealing the escape route taken by Emma in order to free herself from an essentially hollowed existence. Suffice it to say that even her deep love for her son Nicky, a well-raised and sensitive boy, cannot compensate for her utter exhaustion on both the physical and emotional levels.

Sad though it is, one understands why Emma takes leave of her family in a manner that leaves both Nicholas Senior and Nicholas Junior utterly bewildered. But while they might be bewildered, the perceptive reader is not. Both Henry James and Edith Wharton were all too aware of how repressive affluent New York society could be. One only has to peruse The Age of Innocence or The Golden Bowl in order to realise that not only is life that glitters not gold, sometimes it is as dangerous as radium, metaphorically causing a cancer that eats away rapidly at one’s sense of self as well as one’s intrinsic dignity.

Emma must have done something right in raising Nicky, however, because on one of his birthdays following her departure, he befriends a homeless man named Chambers and brings him to his apartment (the pun on “chambers” is not lost on most readers) so that Chambers can take a shower and get something to eat. The building doorman does his job, however, and alerts Dr Sawyer, who sends along a brisk and snobbish nurse named Mary to get rid of Chambers, but not before Nicky learns to appreciate and demonstrate a sense of humanity. His mother would have been proud of him. So, too, is the sympathetic reader.

Regardless of whether he has us view life through the eyes of a mother or those of her child, Flusfeder never loses his grasp on maintaining the authenticity of tone. Emma’s internal monologues (redolent of extended streams of consciousness, occasionally even prose poetry) give one a more accurate sense of her inner frustration than a dozen different external viewpoints might have.

The moment where Nicky, strolling through a park in the Big Apple, comes across a couple of intriguing outdoor chess games, causes such a sense of wonder in the child that he uses some of his birthday funds to buy a pricey chess clock from FAO Schwarz. But both he and Chambers forget about the clock when they engage in a more important set of moves on the chessboard of life.

Densely packed though the novella is, at less than 100 pages, it is a fast and engrossing read. Flusfeder’s prose is tremendously engaging, and his command over character development is nothing short of flawless. Even the detail that Nicholas Senior’s name was changed from the Ashkenazi Jewish “Seger” to the more WASP-ish “Sawyer” is loaded with meaning — since few characters conjure up an image of white American boyhood more vividly than Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer.

Something Might Fall is a novella that lends itself to repeated readings, because the language kaleidoscopically enables one to view a different set of images with every additional reading. In its own quiet way, the novella is a work of pathos and sweetness, but I shall venture a step beyond that. In an even more subtle way, the book is a work of genius.

The reviewer is Associate Professor of Social Sciences and Liberal Arts at the Institute of Business Administration. She has authored two collections of short stories, Timeless College Tales and Perennial College Tales and a play, The Political Chess King

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, June 14th, 2026

Tasveer-i-Yaar [The Picture of Dorian Gray]
By Oscar Wilde
Translated by Arif Waqar
Readings
ISBN: 978-627-510-113-0
274pp.

It is Oscar Wilde’s notoriously difficult masterpiece, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and the translation of the novel into Urdu could not but be a monumental task.

Simply put, the story — a literary classic more than 130 years old — centres on the transformation of an Adonis-like young man into a saffaak [cruel] figure. Wilde, as the crafty author, embeds cutting irony and paradox into even the most ordinary scenes, adding to the knottiness of the prose (pun intended). In addition, the text is as scenic as it is theatrical; it offers vivid descriptions of both exterior landscapes and interior environments.

Set against the backdrop of Victorian London, Dorian Gray, as the focus of the narrative, shines as an embodiment of masculine beauty and, soon, the readers realise that it is his obsession with his youth and charm that eventually destroys him.

First published in 1890, the original English novel consists of 20 chapters. It begins with a ‘Wildean’ preface that sets the stage for its complex philosophical debates. It proceeds into the novelist’s exploration of the complex aesthetic and philosophical questions intricately woven into the plot. Wilde, renowned for his penchant for paradox and witty aphorisms, ensures the surface of the work is not taken for granted.

Oscar Wilde’s celebrated tale of beauty, vanity and moral decay finds a new linguistic home, opening one of English literature’s most complex novels to Urdu readers

Consequently, Wilde’s marvellous text, which demands creative fidelity, can offer little choice to the translator. Readers of Wilde expect an Urdu translation to grapple with these complexities, maintaining the tension between the surface brilliance of the prose and its deeper philosophical ironies.

Tasweer-i-Yaar, as is the title in this Urdu translation by Arif Waqar, begins with the Wildean preface. The very first feeling one gets is that this translation is intended for a sophisticated Urdu readership rather than a general one. The prerequisite for reading this translated version is an understanding of literary Urdu expressions, such as “Sinki mizaaj insaan” [an eccentric or whimsical person], “tum amrat dhara ho meray liyay” [you are the elixir of life for me], and the description of the portrait becoming an “atoot hissa” [inseparable part] of the protagonist’s life. Regarding the translation method, the translator has neither employed any footnotes nor endnotes; the fluency and continuity of tone are preserved without such interventions.

Since there is no typical translation foreword, one supposes that the translator primarily concentrated on making this masterpiece accessible to Urdu readers, so the important question is: does the Urdu prose feel natural?

Waqar, a former PTV director who worked for many years with BBC’s Urdu Service, has avoided a mechanical, word-for-word approach, showing a clear preference for fidelity to the target language. Instead of mimicking English syntax, Waqar’s sentence structure respects the discursive limits of Urdu. And yet, what is most striking is that, to a large extent, the translation mirrors Wilde’s unique linguistic play, his craft for paradox.

One of the chapters in the original prose details Dorian’s tastes and his experiments with indulgence. The chapter contains brilliant descriptions of jewels, tapestries, musical instruments and perfumes; one can sense that grasping the sheer taxonomy of these items must have been a challenge. These many intricate explanations, which form his rhetorical style, determine the tone and essence of the work, which is less about the plot and more about the brilliance with which Dorian Gray’s life is described.

Arif Waqar renders these many terms in Urdu and uses terminologies such as “sanober ki chhaal”, “banafshay ke phoolon ki khushboo”, “champa ki mehkaar”, “mushk-i-naafa”, “baalchharr ki tez saugandh”, and “alwa ki bheeni bheeni mehkaar.” Here, one can’t help but conclude that the translation of these passages has been reproduced not only by dictionaries of the highest calibre but also by a rigour of the rarest kind.

Undoubtedly, some of the more obscure British aristocratic references, impervious even to native English readers, have been streamlined. Yet these omissions hardly scar the work. Furthermore, to emulate Wilde’s use of French expressions and fashion terminology, Waqar has been remarkably inventive. He employs Persian to convey that same sense of high-society sophistication, lending the characters a linguistic elevation that resonates within the Urdu literary tradition.

This brings to mind Canadian translator Sherry Simon’s insights on translation. She stresses that translation today “certainly partakes of the incompleteness of cultural belonging” and involves a “difficult and never-ending transaction between the uncertain poles of cultural difference.”

How far is the title, Tasweer-i-Yaar, justified? It obliquely captures the underlying theme: Dorian’s pathological obsession with his eternal youth, which leads to his downfall. Following the structure of the original book, the translation maintains the original chapter count and preserves the aesthetic and philosophical debates.

However, the lexical landscape occasionally feels uneven. On the one hand, the use of words like dayalu, meaning ‘kind person’, or nabigha to refer to an ‘exceptionally intelligent human’, elevates the prose to a more scholarly level. On the other, the direct transliteration of some words from the source material shows a preference for a modern flair. The overall effect is a hybrid texture that oscillates between traditional high-literary Urdu and contemporary loanwords.

Similarly, this Urdu translation of Oscar Wilde’s work navigates the complexities of linguistic hierarchy with varying degrees of success, most notably in the fluctuating register of address between Basil and Lord Henry. The reason for the sudden transition from the formal aap to the more intimate tum remains unclear.

Wilde’s narrative arc, which shifts in effect from innocuous to a Gothic horror, eventually forces Dorian to confront his own ugliness and corruption. While the translator captures this descent to a certain extent, Gothic horror remains a peculiarly British Victorian genre, and Urdu literary sensibility naturally absorbs its elements selectively.

However, for the reader, the more important question is whether the translator’s voice tires. Overall, the narrative voice retains its distinctive charm by successfully capturing the emotional horizon. The mounting tension both between and within the characters, the inimitable atmosphere, the chill and horror that accompany Dorian after the murder of his friend, Basil, are all appropriately rendered. In the long run, the protagonist’s decadence, his indulgence in the forbidden, and his pursuit of the abominable as a condition for feeling alive altogether are powerfully captured in the final chapters.

While a bilingual Pakistani reader might instinctively compare the two texts and lament the inevitable ‘loss in translation’, such work must be gauged by its own merits. As a scholar who frequently encounters literary translations, I am keenly aware that no translation is ever perfect. Just as no single reader can claim to fully exhaust Wilde’s original text, no translator can be expected to capture every obscure reference.

Arif Waqar’s translation of The Picture of Dorian Gray stands as a significant contribution to the Urdu language. By making Wilde’s complex aesthetics accessible, Waqar has not merely translated a plot but expanded the expressive possibilities of Urdu, proving that even the most “untranslatable” British classics can find a resonant life in a new linguistic landscape.

Ultimately, this translation does more than just bridge a linguistic gap. It opens a space for significant conversations on literary translations to materialise.

The reviewer is a PhD scholar working on Punjabi poets.

She can be contacted at ayesharamzan83@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, June 14th, 2026

The Library of Ancient Wisdom: Mesopotamia and the Making of the Modern World
By Selena Wisnom
The University of Chicago Press
ISBN-100226822559
398+ pp.

A doctor is summoned to examine a patient who has come down with alarming symptoms. The doctor arrives, observes the symptoms and attempts an initial diagnosis based upon clinical experience and knowledge of the medical literature.

The disease isn’t easy to identify but, given the symptoms, it is most probably highly contagious and so, as a precaution, the patient is placed in isolation and strict instructions are issued that no one is to share utensils, stay in the same room or have any direct personal contact with them.

This is not a description of a modern response to a disease but an account from some 3,000 years ago. And the place where this was happening corresponds to modern-day Iraq.

As a doctor-patient interaction played out in one place, the Ancient Mesopotamians knew, as a matter of common knowledge, that washing their hands with soap made everyone healthier. They also understood the principle of sterilisation when dressing wounds, had guidelines for helping those who live past 70 to cope with the effects of ageing, and they preferred to use clean indoor toilets.

Elsewhere, the monarch’s future bride is being scolded for not practising her writing skills, a customer is complaining that the wrong items were delivered to him and an official is on the trail of a thief who has stolen valuables from a temple.

We know of all these instances because the Mesopotamians invented writing and many of the clay tablets they used have survived to our own time. Their writing is complex compared to modern phonetic systems, but it encoded information superbly and only a small number of characters were needed to be learned to be functionally literate.

Both men and women learned this craft, but scribes and priests excelled in it and were the de facto and de jure managers of the realm. These examples mentioned briefly earlier are but a few of the vignettes from Selena Wisnom’s The Library of Ancient Wisdom: Mesopotamia and the Making of the Modern World.

Wisnom brings the world’s first civilisation back to life with exquisite detail, excellent delivery, and the ability to encapsulate the vastness of the millennia during which Ancient Mesopotamia existed, as well as to bridge the tremendous gap in time that separates modern Eurasian civilisation from its first iteration.

There are very good reasons why Mesopotamia is considered the cradle of modern civilisations

There is much to recommend in Wisnom’s book but what is most striking is her ability to enter the perspectives of the societies and individuals she writes about. For anyone seeking an example of writing that is simultaneously rigorous, deeply informed, rational and empathetic, The Library of Ancient Wisdom stands out. Ancient debates and problems come alive from different versions meticulously dissected and pieced together for the reader.

At one moment, the Assyrians don’t seem to be all that bad. In the next, they are ravaging their enemy’s lands, not even sparing Babylon and, in the instance after that, they are rebuilding what they destroyed while subtly (or not so subtly!) realigning things to exalt their own rulers and pantheon.

While politics and warfare occupy a lot of attention, given the tendency of states to record much of what is relevant to these two activities, Wisnom takes the reader on a grand tour of Mesopotamian art, culture, astronomy, rituals and beliefs. And it is through this holistic recounting of the past that something conventional Eurocentric history-writing ignores is brought out of the shadows — the emergence of historical consciousness is a Mesopotamian achievement.

Wisnom explains that the Mesopotamian civilisation was aware of its past in a way that people today can relate to. And this past, if we pick up the story from the zenith of the Assyrian age of empire, circa 700BC, it was already some 3,000 years old. Through the preservation of language, records and customs, ruling classes and their literate compatriots felt a link to their remote past and saw themselves as successors to earlier cultures and empires that arose in the Tigris-Euphrates River Valley. Rulers worried about how they would be remembered and went to great lengths to preserve records of their reigns on cylindrical tablets, to be buried and later retrieved as time capsules.

The Assyrians, for instance, prided themselves on their martial prowess but were equally impressed by the scholarly abilities of their rulers and higher bureaucracy. Ashurbanipal (r. 669–631BC), arguably the greatest of Assyria’s monarchs, depicted himself with writing implements tucked in his sash even on a hunt, and probably assembled the first great library in history. Mesopotamia, in other words, existed as a self-aware civilisational continuum, conscious of its past, worried about its present and future, and was both enriched and troubled by the momentum of history.

The Roman Empire, which committed atrocities on a far greater scale than the most fearsome of its Mesopotamian equivalents, has been substantially redeemed in the eyes of later generations by appreciation of its cultural and technical achievements. Wisnom sets out to do for the Assyrians and their predecessors what others have done for Rome, revealing not just the sword but also the stylus.

And it is with its discussion of the latter that The Library of Ancient Wisdom is at its most illuminating, for it is ultimately a book about books. Here, mastery of the original texts and the ability to contextualise for a modern reader are immensely helpful. The classical works of Ancient Mesopotamia, be they epics, medical texts, or political and military accounts, are explained in terms a non-specialist can easily understand and there is a most helpful bibliographic essay. This is intellectual history at its most captivating.

But what of the debt we owe to the Ancient Mesopotamians? Well, just think about it. If you are reading this review, you are drawing upon the historical legacy of Mesopotamia and its invention of the earliest writing systems. Much of the mathematics that is familiar to us via the Ancient Greeks (who weren’t particularly ancient by Mesopotamian standards) originated in Babylonia.

The food you consume comes from intensive agriculture, first developed by the Sumerians. If you live in a city, as much of the world now does, you draw upon the legacy of Uruk. If you see a doctor when you feel sick, or read your horoscope in a newspaper or online, the original credit goes to the Mesopotamians. If you are a student of history, then it is in Mesopotamia that the origins of historical consciousness lie.

If you are fascinated by empires and geopolitics, well, Sargon of Akkad (r. 2334–2279 BC) got the drop on practically everyone and developed the prototype of the imperial state that Babylon and, eventually, Assyria grew into a world order. What Wisnom does remarkably well is make the ‘ancient’ appear much closer to our lives and our times.

If you have time to read just one book on history this summer, then The Library of Ancient Wisdom should be it. Wisnom paints a brilliant and compelling portrait of a civilisation which achieved so many firsts that it is almost pointless to read about the others until you have read about the Ancient Mesopotamians.

The reviewer is most recently the author of New World Empires: Cultures of Power and Governance in the Americas and is Professor of History at the Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad. X: @IlhanNiaz

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, June 14th, 2026

The year 2021 marked 50 years of what is referred to in Islamabad as the fall of Dhaka and in Dhaka as the liberation of Bangladesh. The Awami League, the founding party of the state of Bangladesh, the former East Pakistan, was in power at that time and celebrated the year with enormous fervour.

Over the years, some Pakistani researchers, scholars, former bureaucrats, retired military officers and journalists have written books or published their memoirs about the former East Pakistan and its strained relationship with West Pakistan, which culminated in a bloody civil war, Indian military intervention and the dismemberment of united Pakistan. But the Hamood-ur-Rehman Commission’s report, commissioned by the then Pakistani government to investigate and explain the event, is not declassified in its entirety even now.

Increasingly, there is little desire among the powers that be to let intellectuals, politicians, journalists and students analyse and learn from what went wrong in united Pakistan. There was no serious introspection or political dialogue allowed to take place in public spaces or universities to mark 50 years of the country’s dismemberment.

I am aware of a conference to discuss and debate the creation of Bangladesh, planned by academics at a private university in Lahore in 2021. It was later called off on the university administration’s instructions. Besides other things, not learning from the past makes our future path even more steep and we continue to struggle with the problems faced in our political, social and economic spheres.

We are still not able to smoothly run the federation with a just and equitable distribution of resources or fully accept the people’s mandate to elect their political representatives. We have neither prioritised the arresting of economic disparities nor is there a demonstrable will to provide basic services to citizens.

About the fateful year of 1971, there are very few accounts available in Urdu or other Pakistani languages. Some translations about the events of 1971 written in English were also made available in Urdu and Sindhi. But altogether, original and translated works can still be counted on one’s fingers. Brig (retd) Siddiq Salik’s Main Ne Dhaka Doobtay Dekha [I Witnessed Dhaka Drown], Anwar Shahid Khan’s Padma Surkh Hai [Padma is Red] and veteran journalist Ali Ahmed Khan’s Jeevan Aik Kahani [Life is a Story] are among the books in Urdu that capture 1971 in different ways and inform the reader.

Naseer Memon’s book in Sindhi, Bangladesh: Bohraan Khaan Bohraan Taeen is a comprehensive account of the history of and political developments in Bangladesh, with some references to the changing social and economic life in the country.

Anwar Shahid Khan’s book remained banned for many years after its publication. Major Ishaq, Dr Tariq Rahman, Rasul Baksh Palijo and Col Nadir Ali are prominent among those few people who publicly spoke on or wrote about the issue in Urdu, Sindhi, Punjabi or English. Even fewer works, including articles, from Pakistani writers are available that can educate the reader about what has happened in Bangladesh after 1971.

Naseer Memon’s book in Sindhi, Bangladesh: Bohraan Khaan Bohraan Taeen [Bangladesh: From Crisis to Crisis], which has just been published by Roshni Publications, is a significant book because it begins from before 1971 and brings us to 2026. It is a comprehensive account of the history of and political developments in Bangladesh, with some references to the changing social and economic life in the country.

Memon trained as a civil engineer and taught at the Mehran University of Engineering and Technology before moving into the areas of social development, climate justice, water conservation and distribution in the Indus basin, corporate social responsibility and a broader analysis of developmental and environmental policies pursued by the decision-makers in Pakistan. He is a prolific author who has come out with several books and is a regular columnist in Sindhi, Urdu and English, writing on the subjects that are close to his heart.

He has been particularly vocal on the multiple challenges faced by the province of Sindh, along with the other smaller provinces, and seeks a fair governance mechanism in the country based on the spirit of the Constitution of Pakistan and its federal character. He has a deep sense of history and a keen eye for contemporary developments in Pakistan, the wider South Asian region and the rest of the world. It is no surprise then that he became interested in writing a book about Bangladesh.

In his book, Memon traces most, if not all, momentous events in the polity of Pakistan in its initial years, the language issue between Bangla and Urdu — which provided fertile ground for disharmony in the two wings of the country — the economic inequities that led to a sense of deprivation in East Pakistan, and the chequered democratic history of the country as a whole.

The reasons for the rise of Sheikh Mujibur Rehman and his party, the Awami League, as the sole representatives of East Pakistan are discussed at length. The attitude and role of the military, the civilian bureaucracy and politicians from West Pakistan towards East Pakistan after the 1970 elections and during the military operation in 1971 is effectively summarised.

Something that makes this account interesting and objective is Memon’s dispassionate analysis of the politics and policies pursued by Rehman — the founding father of Bangladesh — after coming to power, the role of his party when in power and, later, his daughter Sheikh Hasina’s politics as the leader of the party until recently.

Towards the end, the book provides insights into what is happening in Bangladesh after the ouster of Sheikh Hasina and the current challenges the country faces.

The columnist is a poet and essayist. His latest collections of verse are Hairaa’n Sar-i-Bazaar and No Fortunes to Tell

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, June 14th, 2026

The stunning amaryllis, scientifically known as Hippeastrum and belonging to the family Amaryllidaceae, is relatively rare in Pakistan. It is also among the few flowers that are grown from bulbs imported from its native regions in South and Central America.

While the amaryllis can be grown both indoors and outdoors, depending on the climate and time of the year, it is most commonly enjoyed indoors as a potted plant. Growers must adhere to certain gardening basics when growing amaryllis from bulbs, particularly when the bulb is planted indoors.

Depending on the variety and size of the bulb, the period from sprouting to bloom may take anywhere from a few months to two to three years. However, gardeners can encourage faster sprouting by using hydrogen peroxide, an oxygen supplement, at six percent concentration. This is a common practice among amaryllis growers globally.

To have hydrogen peroxide at six percent concentration, simply add a spoonful of hydrogen peroxide to one litre of water. However, it is better to prepare the solution according to the concentration recommended on the product label.

Rarely seen in Pakistani gardens, the amaryllis combines beauty with ease of cultivation. Following a few simple techniques can help ensure the plant’s healthy growth…

Once you have the solution, soak the amaryllis bulbs in it for two to three hours, as it will speed up sprouting. It also improves the growth of leaves and spread of roots which, in turn, improves the plant’s ability to absorb oxygen and other nutrients.

Immersing the bulbs in hydrogen peroxide also protects the plant from fungal diseases, especially red blotch disease and root rot. The solution also destroys bacteria, moulds and fungal spores. The hydrogen peroxide solution is useful in treating infected amaryllis bulbs and helps prevent decay from spreading. After removing the bulbs from the hydrogen peroxide solution, keep them aside for an hour before planting them.

For planting an amaryllis bulb, use nursery soil or bhal mitti, which is a potting mixture containing about 60 percent garden soil. Ensure that the soil is free of pebbles and stones. The potting container should be big enough so that the bulb has at least two to three inches of empty space around its circumference. Usually, the bulb is planted in eight-inch pots before being shifted to a bigger container as the need arises.

When planting garlic clove-shaped bulbs, smaller four-inch pots can also be used. When planting the bulb, the pointed edge faces skywards and the base lies downwards, from where the roots emerge. The roots of the amaryllis occupy less space compared to other flowering plants. The plant typically grows between one to three feet tall.

When planted, only the upper inch of the bulb or the area from where the shoots emerge should be visible. The rest of the bulb should be under the soil. After planting the bulb, sprinkle compost on the soil to improve fertility.

In the initial stage and especially during harsh summers and heat waves, the potted bulb should be protected from direct sunlight. However, the pot should have access to indirect, bright light.

The pot should be watered generously at the time of planting the bulb, but it should be adequately drained so that water does not accumulate on the surface. The regular watering schedule should follow a plan where the soil has dried before watering. After watering, the soil surface should be moist, but not wet. In that phase, the pot should be kept under shade.

As new shoots emerge from the bulb, gradually increase sunlight exposure to three hours, either in the early morning or through filtered sunlight. Many gardeners cover their pots with a green net to protect the plants from harsh sunlight and bird attacks.

The amaryllis plant is susceptible to attacks from amaryllis worms, aphids, mealy bugs and spider mites. Damage caused by these pests is often visible in the form of patches or patterns. Spraying the plant, especially the underside of the leaves, with a neem oil solution after every two to three weeks helps ward off pest attacks.

Please send your queries and emails to doctree101@hotmail.com. The writer is a physician and a host for the YouTube channel ‘DocTree Gardening’ promoting organic kitchen gardening

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

Assalaam Alaikum Auntie,
I am a Larkana-based teacher currently preparing for the Central Superior Services (CSS) exam, besides managing a coaching centre, where I teach English grammar.

Around four months ago, I asked my mother, who lives in Quetta, to send me Rs300,000. I needed the money for my CSS journey and the expenses of living away from family. However, unfortunately, I spent the money elsewhere. Now, I think I have betrayed my mother, whom I love very much.

The feeling of regret is killing me every second of my life. My life has turned into a nightmare. The most unpleasant part, however, is that I don’t feel up to telling her the truth, which I am certain will hurt her feelings. My mother has said on multiple occasions that I am her last hope, as I am the only one among my siblings who is educated up to the university level. I feel I have betrayed not only her trust but also the hopes she has placed in me.

I want to right the wrong. How should I begin? I am really despondent.
Remorseful

‘I Betrayed My Mother’s Trust. How Do I Recover?’

Dear Remorseful,
The fact that you are suffering this much tells me something very important: that you have a conscience. People who really don’t care about betraying someone’s trust do not spend four months being tormented by it.

So, let’s be honest. You made a mistake by asking your mother for money for a particular purpose and then you used it for some other purpose. The guilt that you are feeling hasn’t just appeared out of nowhere. It is a sign that your values are clashing with your actions. And this guilt has a purpose, which is to make amends and correct your actions, instead of becoming some kind of ongoing self-punishment.

What is more worrying than the money is how you view yourself in relation to your mother. You describe yourself as her ‘last hope.’ That is a heavy burden for any child to carry for a parent. One mistake cannot take away your education, your efforts, your character and your future.

But you can right this wrong. It is simple, but I wouldn’t say it is easy. Start by making a plan to repay the money. Whether it takes months or years, you should commit yourself to returning the money.

As for telling your mother, you know her better than any outsider like me and you would know whether the truth would help her or hurt her. If you do decide to tell her, don’t do it because you want to remove your own burden of guilt. Instead, do it because honesty should be part of the deal. And please stop thinking of this as a major life failure. You have not stolen money from a stranger, or become irresponsible or even ruined your future. You made a bad decision with the money that was given to you. So treat this as a lesson learned.

If it helps you, let me just add here that the things that are making you miserable right now — your feelings of accountability and your concern for your mother’s feelings — are exactly the qualities that are helping you become the kind of man she probably hopes you will become.

So stop replaying the mistake over and over in your head, work on a repayment plan and start repairing the situation.

Disclaimer: If you or someone you know is in crisis and/or feeling suicidal, please go to your nearest emergency room and seek medical help immediately.

Auntie will not reply privately to any query. Please send concise queries to: auntieagni@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

Rebecca de Chandio rested her head on the chaise longue and breathed a sigh of relief. She had never missed her weekly sessions with the shrink before and the forced break had set her nerves on edge.

Dr Tufail M. Winterbottom looked at her pensively. “Hmmm…” he said.

“Hmmm, indeed, Dr T,” she responded. “If only you knew how utterly adrift I’ve felt this past fortnight. I told Imran that we need to buy you completely, wholesale, lock, stock and barrel, and secure you somewhere on the estate, so I can always have access to you. Don’t worry, Imran has built a lovely new annex — nine bedrooms with a separate swimming pool and gym — for his out-of-town guests. I can persuade him to lock you there… I mean, house you there. You will be very comfortable, I promise you,” she added.

“I’m afraid that’s not how the world works,” Dr Winterbottom said, scribbling in his notebook.

“Oh, please! The world works the way we want it to work and you know this as well as I do,” she replied.

Rebecca de Chandio has everything money can buy except peace of mind. With global politics uncertain, shipping routes disrupted and her favourite hair dye unavailable, she turns to therapy to seek answers…

Dr Winterbottom took out a pale blue, monogrammed handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and dried the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. He appeared worried.

“You don’t know the kind of anxiety this uncertainty is causing me,” she said. “I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. The world’s not settling the way I want it to settle and I don’t know why everyone can’t come to terms with what I want!

“I can’t plan my holidays because who knows what August will be like in Upstate New York, what with the Doland changing his mind about everything every time he opens his mouth… will I be able to Saks Fifth Avenue with peace of mind this summer or will I be stuck in Barcelona like last year? Oh, why can’t all the world be just white and European and civilised once again, so we can all relax and go back to how it used to be? Why, Dr T, why?”

“The Doland is white.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me about him! How I loved him… how I fought for him… how I defended him every time my libtard cousins berated him for his paedophilia… alleged paedophilia, I used to yell at them! Alleged! How much of my husband and myself I saw in him… still see in him, to be honest… but now, it’s as if he is this stranger walking around in my old house, enjoying all the things I value most and setting up boundaries without my permission… How could he do this to me, Dr T?” asked Rebecca.

Dr Winterbottom remained silent. Outside, a delivery van sputtered its way down the street. In the distance, a dog broke wind. Rebecca looked forlorn.

“Imran and I feel so lost and abandoned. We don’t know what’s happening most days. I sit and Wordle by the poolside while my poor darling is trying to keep his spirits up by spending all his time admiring his brand-new Elie Bleu cigar humidor,” said Rebecca.

“Doland and his ilk all over the world — regardless of race, religion, ethnicity or deodorant preference — keep promising to make us great again… but when? How long will it take? How much more do the poors want from us? How much more can we give, after all we’ve given to them already?

“You know, Dr T, my Imran could have just as easily stayed at home and enjoyed all that life’s given him, including his trust fund, but he chose instead to help the beautifully structured and proportionately buttocked richs of the world, who have given so much through their tax-free family foundations to the lazy poors because, like the Doland and the elites of his adversaries, their hearts brim with love, kindness and healthy stock portfolios for one and all.”

“Why do you think it is that you feel lost and abandoned?” asked Dr Winterbottom.

“I just told you, didn’t I? Sometimes, I don’t know whether I should be paying you or asking you to pay me for repeating every word I utter so that you can write it down in that blasted notebook of yours! You seem to have absolutely no ability to retain what’s been said to you not a moment ago!” she said irritated.

“Listen carefully… I feel like my world’s turned into a gigantic lost-and-found department, where I am finding useless, second-hand things I can’t stand while constantly losing the fast-fading remnants of the life I once cherished. And to top it all, my Unburnt Sienna Tropicale hair dye is no longer available in all of Aitchisonia-upon-Chenab because, apparently, some straits keep getting hormuzed every other week, making it virtually impossible for the delivery man to get through with my order!”

“I’m afraid we’re out of time,” said Dr Winterbottom. “Let’s try and meet on planet Earth for the next session, shall we?”

Farid Alvie was born. He currently lives.
He’s on Instagram @faridalvie

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

The tiresome and perpetually ill-informed debate regarding the supposed superiority of Lahore over Karachi manifests with regularity across social media. It is contested as if it were a zero-sum existentialist struggle.

The discourse is often stripped of nuance and weaponised for partisan gain. The noted architect and researcher Arif Hasan once told me that cities really cannot be compared. He argued that every urban sprawl possesses its own unique geographical, historical and demographic characteristics.

This sentiment was reinforced by a city planner in Chicago whom I met last year for a research project. He also echoed the views of the political scientist Carlo Epifanio. To Epifanio, the practice of ranking cities frequently suffers from methodological biases and a failure to account for local context.

Researchers such as Perrine Hamel and urban planner Devansh Jain have pointed out that such rankings often lack quality data for cities in the Global South. Rankings mostly rely on indicators that disproportionately favour cities in the Global North. Therefore, the rankings fail to reflect the specific developmental challenges, economic realities and historical trajectories faced by different regions. Attempting to measure urban centres against one another is akin to comparing apples and oranges. Both are fruits, yet they possess entirely different properties and requirements for growth.

Karachi and Lahore are products of distinct histories and environments. Treating them as ‘rivals’ obscures the challenges facing both and reduces serious questions of governance to partisan spectacle

The same fallacy applies to the perennial comparison between Karachi and Lahore. This is typically perpetuated by those who view cities as static monoliths rather than multifaceted, living organisms.

According to a 2019 International Monetary Fund (IMF) report, even within a single country under a unified political framework, cities function as distinct environments, where regional nuances make the act of direct, top-down comparisons inherently misleading. A city’s evolution is dictated by its historical progression. Geography plays a critical role as well, particularly the distinction between coastal access and landlocked terrain.

Karachi is a relatively recent city defined by its bustling port, having evolved under British occupation from a modest fishing town in the early 19th century into a major urban centre by the 1940s. Lahore, on the other hand, is an ancient, landlocked city.

According to the historian Carola Hein, coastal/port cities are defined by their position at the intersection of land and sea, making them “nodes of movement and transition.” This shapes a ‘maritime mindset’, reflecting an innate openness to external influences, cultural diversity, migration and trade.

A study by the urban planner Vincent Baptist and geographer Francesca Savoldi noted that, because port cities exist at the precarious edge of water and land, they face constant environmental pressures, fostering a resilient and adaptive disposition among their residents. Rainfall in Karachi is erratic from one monsoon season to the other, and there is always the potential of violent sea storms. It has a semi-arid climate. It also holds the largest population in the country.

On the other side is the concept of the ‘landlocked mindset.’ Urban studies define it as an emphasis on territorial integrity, stability and historical continuity. In landlocked cities such as Lahore, the absence of an open maritime horizon turns the gaze of residents inward.

As the American political geographer Steve Hess suggests, in a landlocked city, identity is frequently tied to the fixity of architecture and the preservation of cultural homogeneity. Since the city cannot expand toward an open sea, it grows by layering its development over its own past.

The sociologist AbdouMaliq Simone notes that, in many landlocked cities of the Global South such as Lahore, social survival depends on the density of local interpersonal relationships and the maintenance of traditional neighbourhood structures or mohallahs. This is common in Lahore.

When a television anchor from Punjab recently suggested that no Sindh minister could stand in Lahore and claim that they can successfully turn it into Karachi, he was technically correct. The geography, historical development and underlying mindsets of both cities are uniquely and irreconcilably different.

But he didn’t mean it in this way. He was merely mouthing a not-very-informed, populist opinion. The truth is, whereas a person with a maritime mindset is often capable of understanding the nuances of Lahore, the landlocked mindset frequently struggles to fully grasp the complex, chaotic and diverse nature of Karachi.

Nevertheless, the obsession with comparison is mostly played out as a distraction from governance issues that plague both metropolises. By focusing on competitive rhetoric, citizens and policymakers alike neglect the site-specific interventions required for development.

Sound practice dictates that infrastructural improvement projects should be conceptualised according to the specific historical, environmental and geophysical features of a city. As the Chicago planner added, one can’t plan to improve the infrastructure of New York with a plan shaped

for Dallas. Appreciating the social make-up of Lahore rooted in rich history, or the diversity and cosmopolitan resilience of Karachi, should not require the disparagement of the other.

Karachiites themselves have been critical of their own city governments, acknowledging compounding infrastructural issues. However, this is often exploited by political parties that treat the city as a punching bag. Ironically, this even includes parties whose main vote-bank is in Punjab.

Even the state has kicked in by using vloggers to regurgitate myopic narratives about Karachi to put pressure on whichever party is ruling it, especially the Pakistan Peoples Party. A recent ‘documentary’ in this regard that looked more like a caricature of an entirely unsubtle propaganda reel is a case in point. Yet, Karachi continues to accommodate tens of thousands of migrants annually and remains one of the country’s most open-minded urban centres.

The quality of the Karachi-Lahore debate is often silly, if not outright embarrassing. It resembles a viral video of a discussion someone posted on Facebook recently. In the clip, a journalist is interviewing a resident of Gilgit-Baltistan who is a staunch Imran Khan fan.

The journalist asks the resident what development projects the previous Khan government in the region had initiated. The resident insists there were many. The journalist asks him to name a few. The man replies, tourism. The next question is for him to name specific tourism projects. The resident answers that when Khan’s government was in charge, there was good snowfall on the mountains, which is good for tourism. Amused, the journalist asks if he is suggesting that the government created the snowfall. The reply is a sincere “Yes”.

I have used this specific example to demonstrate how the political nature of the Karachi-Lahore debate has been reduced to this level of absurdity, where people are even willing to conflate natural phenomena with political governance, utterly ignoring the reality of the spaces they inhabit.

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

The Mughal Empire remains one of the most extensively documented periods in South Asian history, preserved through imperial chronicles, manuscripts and miniature paintings. Yet, within this vast archive, many figures survive only in fragments, overshadowed by dominant narratives. Their absence prompts a fundamental question: who decides what is remembered and what is allowed to disappear?

Behram Farooqui’s exhibition ‘Begi-Nama’ engages this question through a language of restraint. The folio becomes both artefact and void, while embroidery, traditionally associated with feminine labour and ornament, emerges as a medium that unsettles the authority of the archive. Farooqui’s solo exhibition, presented by the Vasl Artists’ Association, is part of the fifth iteration of ‘The Museum Series’ at The Vasl Gallery, Karachi.

The gallery space was darkened on entry, drawing the viewer towards a dense, shimmering veil of tinsel-like threads, behind which embroidered text intermittently revealed itself, suspended between presence and withdrawal.

The folio format of the show invokes the Mughal manuscript tradition, ie miniatures, calligraphy, gilded borders. Instead of text, cascading threads form dense veils of gold fibre that both reveal and obscure. The folio becomes an archival fragment whose contents are withheld rather than transmitted.

Through embroidered folios and an invocation of the Mughal artistic tradition, a recent exhibition reflects on the forgotten women of the Mughal court and the fragility of historical memory

Here, ‘text’ exists as gesture rather than language, hovering between Persian and Urdu calligraphic traditions and abstraction. It resists reading and denies interpretive authority. Farooqui constructs a visual analogue to purdah: meaning itself is veiled, controlled and partially inaccessible.

Embroidery, particularly zardozi, historically belongs to the registers of courtly refinement and domestic labour. By converting thread into a script-like system, the artist collapses distinctions between writing and making, intellect and craft, but without resolving them.

Yet the stitched surface refuses discipline. Where calligraphy traditionally signals control and legibility, these embroidered ‘texts’ foreground fragmentation and loss. Labour becomes visible not as embellishment but as duration: repetitive, embodied and materially insistent, echoing forms of work historically excluded from official narratives.

Within this dense field, female figures called Urdubegis appear intermittently. Also rendered in gold thread, these figures are shown in repeated, identical poses holding a shield and staff. Their bodies are standardised, absorbed into a visual system of repetition that echoes the logic of the textile itself.

This produces a critical tension: while the work gestures toward the recovery of overlooked female agency within the Mughal zenana [designated area for females] the figures are simultaneously contained within an ornamental grammar that limits their individuality. Visibility is granted, but only through stylisation.

Historically, Urdubegis occupied a paradoxical position. They were elite female guards of the Mughal zenana who were trained, armed and essential to the security of the imperial household. Yet they were confined within highly regulated spaces of seclusion. Their presence was both central and structurally unseen.In Farooqui’s work, their abstraction becomes a metaphor for this condition.

Like an unreadable script, their histories are present yet inaccessible. The embroidered surfaces are not reconstructing biography but suggesting its erosion. The curtain-like fall of threads reinforces this ambiguity: it functions simultaneously as barrier and threshold, echoing the spatial logic of the zenana with its screens, jaalis and regulated visibility.

The word ‘Urdu’ itself is derived from the Turkic ordu, meaning camp or army, pointing to its emergence in the military encampments of the Mughal period, where linguistic and cultural exchange was dense and fluid. A central tension in the works lies between ornamental excess and structural disruption. Gold thread, framing devices and compositional elegance evoke imperial luxury, yet the centre resists coherence. It fractures, dissolves and withdraws from interpretive stability.

This rupture destabilises the authority of the archive. The folio, traditionally a site of preservation, becomes instead a site of uncertainty. The viewer is left not with recovered knowledge but with the recognition of its limits.

Urdubegis appear only sporadically in historical records, notably in the Humayun-nama of Gulbadan Begum, one of the few surviving 16th century texts authored by a woman. She was a Mughal princess, who was the half-sister of Humayun. But even here, the presence of Urdubegis is brief.

Urdubegis were recruited from diverse groups, such as the Tatar (a Turkic-speaking ethnic group indigenous to Eastern Europe, Central Asia and Siberia), Kalmyk (Mongolic people in the eastern-most part of Europe), Kipchak (Turkic nomads) and Habshi (African) communities, from outside the Subcontinent where purdah was not practised. Their roles extended beyond security to include escorting, mediation and managing the controlled passage between the zenana and the external world.

Scholarly writings, including those by Professor Dr Rukhsana Iftikhar at the Department of History, University of the Punjab, Lahore, situate Urdubegis within broader economies of female labour in the Mughal period, spanning domestic services, farm hands, craft production, performance and administrative roles. Even when salaried or privileged, these women remained embedded in hierarchical systems that regulated visibility and recognition.

In ‘Begi-Nama’, Farooqui does not attempt to reconstruct a continuous historical narrative. Instead, he constructs an aesthetic of opacity. The embroidered folios suggest that certain histories cannot be retrieved easily, just like embroidery itself is a slow, laborious and layered process. Threads sit on the surface, but they also conceal what lies beneath. The abstraction of the text here is not a deficit but a method. It foregrounds the limits of historical knowledge, while insisting on the material persistence of what has been excluded.

Farooqui, a graduate of the Visual Arts Department at Karachi University, continues to explore how histories are shaped, withheld and reconfigured. In ‘Begi-Nama’, the folio ceases to function as a stable documentary surface, becoming instead a site where absence acquires form. Quiet, resistant and unresolved, the work holds history in suspension.

‘Begi-Nama’ was on display at The Vasl Gallery, Karachi from May 19-June 1, 2026

Rumana Husain is a writer, artist and educator. She is the author of two coffee-table books on Karachi, and has authored and illustrated 90 children’s books

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

The logic went that the Lebanese Shiite group — which has posed a persistent threat to Israel for 44 years — would finally succumb if stripped of its Iranian benefactor. After all, Israeli attempts to destroy Hezbollah through direct military action had not been effective, nor had internationally supported disarmament efforts.

But as the United States and Iran continue to negotiate over an agreement that might put an end to their war, the Israeli-Lebanese front remains as active as ever. Israel has increased strikes and incursions deeper into Lebanon, while Hezbollah is targeting the Israeli military deployed in southern Lebanon and the civilian population in northern Israel.

In the Iran war’s shadow, Israel’s renewed Lebanon campaign risks repeating failed lessons – and occupations – of the past

IrAN’S LEVERAGE

Worse, from the Israeli government’s perspective, is that Iran has found a way of turning its survival and newfound leverage over the Strait of Hormuz into protecting Hezbollah. Tehran is currently conditioning a potential deal with Washington on a complete halt of Israeli hostilities in Lebanon – a move clearly designed to safeguard the political and military standing of Hezbollah, its primary proxy.

Since full-scale war returned to Lebanon on March 2, 2026, it has had a massive humanitarian cost. As of June 1, over a million Lebanese have been displaced and more than 3,300 killed since the beginning of March. On the Israeli side, 24 soldiers and 4 civilians have been killed in the same time period.

Israel seeks to decouple its Lebanon front from the wider regional conflict, aiming to maintain its military campaign against the Shiite organisation independently of broader US negotiations with Iran. But whether it will able to do this is uncertain. The Trump administration has largely excluded Israel from the specifics of its Iranian dialogue while attempting to restrict Israeli operations in Lebanon to strikes in the country’s south and the Bekaa Valley and prohibiting attacks on state infrastructure. The ordering of attacks on Lebanon’s capital, Beirut, by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu on June 1 lays bare the limits to US pressure.

And ultimately, the resolution of this conflict rests upon how President Donald Trump chooses to navigate Iranian demands concerning the future of Lebanon.

As a historian of Israel and Lebanon, I have studied cycles of violence between these parties since 1982, and have noted recurring patterns in which Hezbollah has emerged emboldened, maintaining its dominance over Lebanese society as an Iranian proxy. Contrary to Israeli hopes, Iran’s patronage of Hezbollah has not been ended by the Iran war. And to confound issues, continued Israeli occupation of Lebanese land could grant Hezbollah the necessary justification to sustain its narrative of resistance at the cost of the broader Lebanese population.

A wounded but not dead Hezbollah

While significantly weakened as a result of more than two and a half years of war with Israel, Hezbollah continues to wield considerable power in Lebanon.

After a ceasefire in November 2024 — following the full-scale war in September-October of that year — ostensibly stopped fighting, a new Lebanese president was elected and a new government was established in February 2025.

That ended a three-year political deadlock generated by Hezbollah’s effective veto power over successive Lebanese governments since 2008. Even since the formation of a government in 2025, however, the Lebanese state has been unable to effectively make progress in disarming Hezbollah as stipulated in the November 2024, armistice agreement that ended that previous round of fighting.

Instead, Iran invested significant efforts to prop up its Lebanese proxy. Tehran even sent senior officers of its Revolutionary Guard soon after the November 2024 ceasefire to assume the command of the Shiite organisation, which lost many of its leaders at the hands of Israeli assassinations and targeted strikes.

These efforts are paying off for Tehran now, as seen through Hezbollah’s ability to challenge Israel militarily.

With the beginning of this most recent war in March, the Lebanese prime minister banned Hezbollah’s operations, while the president condemned the group for dragging Lebanon into a conflict that most Lebanese rejected.

But, as in the past, the government has been unable to effectively rein in Hezbollah. A telling case came on March 24, 2026, when Lebanon’s Foreign Ministry declared the Iranian ambassador a persona non grata, ordering him to leave the country.

Iran and Hezbollah defied the order and the ambassador refused to leave the embassy in Beirut.

This example also suggests that the hopes for revitalised state capacities after the current Lebanese government came to power in February 2025 — the first government since 2008 not controlled by Hezbollah — may have been premature.

THE Gaza MODEL

Employing what some have called a “Gaza model” in Lebanon, Israel has effectively created a new security zone in south Lebanon by occupying Lebanese territory, razing to the ground whole villages that Hezbollah had used for military purposes and clearing out most of the population from the area.

But Israel has occupied south Lebanon in the past: first in March 1978, during the Litani operation, and then again from 1982 to 2000. The failure of these occupations should raise alarms in Israel. Neither resulted in lasting security improvements and instead left indelible, traumatic scars on Israel’s collective consciousness, creating the image of Lebanon as a quagmire into which Israel has been repeatedly drawn.

The government of Netanyahu is now leading the country into another potential quagmire in Lebanon.

The news about the Israel Defense Forces’ occupation of the Beaufort castle in south Lebanon on May 31 should bring grim memories for Israelis. That castle remains entrenched in the collective memory of Israel’s occupation of south Lebanon in 1982-2000 as a symbol of its failure. Netanyahu, however, packaged Israel’s occupation as a sign of strength, stating that “we have returned stronger than ever.” History suggests otherwise.

History repeats itself

Netanyahu is driven in large part by Israeli domestic affairs.

A majority of Israelis support the continuation of the war against Hezbollah. Moreover, with national elections scheduled for October 2026, Netanyahu needs to show some success in at least one of the multiple military fronts he has intentionally kept open since the Hamas attack on October 7, 2023.

With Netanyahu seemingly failing to achieve his aims in Iran, Lebanon and Hezbollah provide him with an opportunity to keep a state of emergency in Israel, which he needs for his own political survival.

But failure in Iran makes achieving Netanyahu’s goal in Lebanon that much harder. The government in Tehran seems to have found significant leverage over the US and Israel. And under these conditions, Tehran would not give up on Hezbollah, which remains its most important regional asset.

Diplomacy is the only way out of this imbroglio. And while it would not likely lead to the disarming of Hezbollah and to the Israel’s full withdrawal from south Lebanon, it remains the only constructive way forward.

At the behest of the Trump administration, Israeli and Lebanese ambassadors met to discuss a diplomatic understanding between two countries that have never had official relations. And on May 30, military representatives of the two countries met in Washington, D.C.

For the first time since 1983, the Lebanese government has agreed to negotiate directly with Israel over a long-term political agreement, including the possibility of finally demarcating their shared borders. Hezbollah, as expected, has vehemently opposed these negotiations.

What we are seeing currently unfolding in Lebanon is another testament to the failure of the Israeli-U.S. war against Iran. Yet a war that began with lofty promises of a new Middle East may end up with a worse version of the old Middle East – an emboldened Islamic Republic, a new Israeli occupation of south Lebanon and a Hezbollah, while weaker than before, still entrenched as an armed militia outside of Lebanese state control and working in concert with Iran.

The writer is Professor of History and Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame in the US

Republished from The Conversation

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

There’s a distinct buzz around Fifa World Cups. After all, it is one of only two truly global events — along with the Olympics — capable of bringing people from across the globe together for some fleeting moments of celebration.

This time round though, the buzz is not celebratory.

This World Cup feels divided, fragmented, uncertain. Haiti, Iran, Ivory Coast and Senegal fans were unable to travel due to US travel restrictions. The Democratic Republic of Congo fans were unable to travel due to Ebola restrictions.

Iran’s players and officials were denied US visas, which meant they had to shift their training base to Mexico, despite having to play all their group stage matches on the US West Coast. A special order granted only Iranian players (and not their officials) permission to enter and leave the US on the same day as their matches.

Delegations from the Middle East and Africa struggled with visa acquisition and were detained at airports for hours upon arrival. An Iraqi official was deported from Chicago. The top African referee from Somalia was refused a visa. There was also a shooting incident injuring nine people near England’s training base in Kansas City.

Political controversies have put a dampener on the buzz surrounding the Fifa World Cup. If the action on the field changes that, here’s what to look out for in terms of teams and players…

By the time this is published, the most uncertain of Fifa World Cups would have kicked off in Mexico City, making Estadio Azteca the first stadium to host matches across three World Cups. The action on the pitch should, hopefully, take the centre stage from here on and restore excitement worldwide.

Here is a quick rundown of who you should be keeping an eye on over the next 40 days.

FRANCE

For the third World Cup in succession, France brings a squad which feels more like a Fifa Ultimate Team than a national roster. An attack spearheaded by Kylian Mbappe and flanked by Ballon d’Or holder Ousmanne Dembele and Bundesliga Player of the Season Michael Olise does not have space for Desire Doue, who led PSG to consecutive Champions League titles.

Manchester City’s Rayan Cherki will be tasked with providing service to the glittering forward line-up. Central midfield is the only area where France feels a bit lacking. Lucas Hernandez and Jules Kounde form arguably the best full-back pairing in international football. AC Milan’s Mike Maignan will don the gloves in goal.

Still coached by Didier Deschamps, who has taken them to successive finals in the past two World Cups, expect France to bring a winning mentality and opposition defences struggling to contain their front three.

SPAIN

It’s quite rare for an 18-year-old to be leading one of the favourites at a World Cup, but that is exactly what La Liga’s Player of the Season Lamine Yamal will be doing.

Barcelona’s wunderkind turned 17 and won the Best Young Player during the 2024 Euros, a competition Spain ended up winning. His partnership with Athletic Club’s Nico Williams proved too hot to contain in 2024 and manager Luis de la Fuente will again be forming his team around the two youngsters.

The midfield will be marshalled by 2024 Ballon d’Or winner Rodri and Barcelona’s exceptional Pedri, with PSG’s Fabian Ruiz providing a different dimension. The versatile Dani Olmo will shuffle between midfield and attack and Arsenal’s Mikel Merino returns from injury just in time to make the World Cup roster.

The absence of Dean Huijsen means this is the first Spain squad for a major tournament not to feature any Real Madrid players. Barcelona’s Pau Cubarsi will be the linchpin in defence. Spain has the fiercest competition in goal — Unai Simon, David Raya and Joan Garcia all make extremely strong cases to be the No 1.

ARGENTINA

The defending champions return along with their talisman — Lionel Messi will feature in the 2026 World Cup for his sixth and last dance. Argentina are the current South American champions to go with their World Cup crown, making Lionel Scaloni’s side arguably the greatest in Argentine history.

The team will once again be centred around the mercurial Messi, who holds the record for the most appearances at World Cups with 26. He will be joined by 16 players from the victorious 2022 squad, including the Golden Glove winner Emiliano Martinez and Young Player of the Tournament winner Enzo Fernandez.

While Messi, who will turn 39 during the tournament, may not have the same impact as he did four years ago, the strong core of returning players from the 2022 squad will be looking to step up and give their legend a fitting send-off.

PORTUGAL

How can we talk about Messi and not talk about Cristiano Ronaldo? As with Messi, 41-year-old Ronaldo also returns for his record sixth and final World Cup, supported by one of the best squads Portugal has ever assembled. They are the current Nations League holders.

In goal, Portugal will be relying on the ever-present Diogo Costa. They boast the best left-back in world football, Nuno Mendes. Manchester City’s Ruben Dias and Sporting’s Goncalo Inacio provide stability in central defence. Portugal’s central midfield is unrivalled in international football, PSG’s duo of Vitinha and Joao Neves forming the pivot allowing Manchester United’s Premier League Player of the Season Bruno Fernandes to operate between the lines.

Up front, Cristiano Ronaldo is supported by his club teammate and Saudi League Player of the Season Joao Felix, Chelsea’s Pedro Neto, Manchester City’s Bernardo Silva, AC Milan’s Rafael Leao and PSG’s Goncalo Ramos.

ENGLAND

The World Cup’s perennial “nearly there” team returns after stellar performances in the last four international tournaments, having reached the semifinals in the 2018 World Cup and losing finals in both the 2021 and 2024 Euros.

European Golden Shoe winner Harry Kane will be captaining them, supported by Real Madrid’s Jude Bellingham, Arsenal’s Bukayo Saka and Declan Rice, Manchester City’s Premier League Young Player of the Season Nico O’Reilly and Everton’s Jordan Pickford.

Coach Thomas Tuchel caused a stir with some of his picks, most notably the selection of Jordan Henderson and Ivan Toney and the omission of Morgan Gibbs-White, Trent Alexander-Arnold, Cole Palmer and Phil Foden.

BRAZIL

The most successful manager in world football takes charge of the most successful team in World Cup history. Carlo Ancelloti will be masterminding the Selecao in the US, Mexico and Canada, and he has called up Neymar Jr for his last appearance in the World Cup.

Other notable players in the squad include Real Madrid superstar Vinicius Junior, Barcelona’s Raphinha, Newcastle’s Bruno Guimaraes, Manchester United’s Casemiro, Arsenal’s Gabriel, PSG captain Marquinhos and Liverpool’s Alisson. Neymar’s inclusion in the squad means Chelsea’s Joao Pedro missed out, despite being the top scorer in his first season for the club.

OTHERS TO WATCH

Germany, led by Manuel Neuer coming out of retirement, Joshua Kimmich and Jamal Musiala, are one of the most unpredictable teams in the tournament. The four-time champions have exited at the group stages in the last two editions but showed a strong showing at Euros 2024 on their home soil. They may crash out in the group stages; they may go on to win the entire tournament.

The 2018 World Cup finalist and Ballon d’Or winner Luka Modric will also be making his final appearance at the World Cup stage with Croatia. Egypt’s Mohamed Salah might be making his final appearance at a World Cup too, as the 33-year-old prepares to adjust to life after leaving Anfield.

Meanwhile, Norway is returning to the World Cup for the first time in 28 years, propelled by Manchester City behemoth Erling Haaland, and Turkiye returns for the first time since 2002, with a young team led by Arda Guler and Kenan Yildiz.

The writer is a sports enthusiast with a background in supply chain management. X: @tahagoheer

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

Stand at the entrance to Faisalabad’s Kutchery Bazaar and you could be forgiven for thinking you had stumbled on to a film set.

Decorative lamp-posts cast amber pools of light across newly paved walkways. Freshly painted façades glow in warm floodlights. Faisalabad’s famous Clock Tower — a colonial landmark at the hub of eight radiating bazaars and locally known as ghanta ghar — presides over it all, looking considerably more photogenic than before.

The transformation, completed in May this year, has been a social media sensation. Videos shared by Gen Z visitors routinely rack up hundreds of thousands of views. The government has invested approximately Rs360 million in the beautification of Kutchery Bazaar and the Clock Tower alone, with plans to extend the project to Jhang Bazaar, Aminpur Bazaar and the remaining five bazaars in the city in subsequent phases. By any superficial measure, it is a success.

But step off the main thoroughfare. Duck through a side entrance. Look upward at the Zail Ghar — one of the bazaar’s most storied colonial buildings, a striking two-storey red-brick structure known for its turrets and minaret-like architectural features — and the picture changes.

The front façade has been freshly painted; old windows have been replaced with decorative wooden-style balconies. Yet the rear of the building tells another story entirely. Its structural framework is deteriorating and the staircases are damaged. Its verandas, rooms and roof remain in a state of advanced dilapidation. Only the face visible to the camera has been treated. The rest has been left to quietly collapse.

Fresh paint, decorative balconies and glowing floodlights have transformed Faisalabad’s historic core. But behind the Instagram-friendly makeover lie crumbling buildings, neglected landmarks and a growing debate over whether the city is actually preserving its heritage…

A WITNESS TO HISTORY

The Zail Ghar was constructed in 1918, when the city was still known as Lyallpur — named after Sir James Broadwood Lyall, the lieutenant governor of Punjab who oversaw its planned development.

Local journalist Zikerullah Hasani explains that its upper-floor rooms once accommodated zaildars — rural administrators who travelled to the city to deposit land revenue and water taxes, while the ground floor served as stables for their horses. The adjacent open space was a parking ground for bullock carts and horse carriages.

After Partition, the building cycled through many lives: a ‘Circuit House’ (accommodation for visiting government servants and dignitaries), a revenue court, government offices, and a hostel for medical students. By 1985, the district council had converted it into a press chamber, allotting offices to newspapers and news agencies. The horse stables were converted to shops and rented out. Today, it remains the property of the district council — though its crumbling domes and cracked towers suggest that ownership has not translated into stewardship.

The Zail Ghar is not alone in its predicament.

The main hall of the historic Jamia Mosque in Kutchery Bazaar, built in 1903, has remained closed for a year and a half because of a deteriorating roof. Parts of its rare glasswork ceiling have already broken and been lost. The building of the Central Cooperative Bank Limited Lyallpur — constructed in 1921 and once a landmark of the bazaar — has already vanished entirely, demolished through official neglect, with a multi-storey commercial structure now rising on its site.

BEAUTY WITHOUT BONES

Dr Tohid Ahmad Chattha, a lecturer in the history department at Government College University Faisalabad, puts the problem plainly: not a single archaeologist or heritage conservation expert was hired for the restoration and façade work carried out under the beautification plan.

This is not the first time, notes Dr Chattha, that Faisalabad’s buildings have suffered in the name of improvement.

“A portion of the Zail Ghar itself was demolished to accommodate a commercial structure,” he tells Eos. In 2015, several significant historical buildings were whitewashed in a so-called restoration exercise, permanently altering their original appearance. “Old maps and photographs of the city show the Clock Tower once surrounded by dense, mature trees — most of which were gradually felled and replaced with concrete,” he points out.

Prof Sajida Haider Vandal, heritage conservation expert and also the driving force behind the Trust for History of Art and Architecture in Pakistan, welcomes the government’s willingness to allocate significant funds to cultural heritage — calling it perhaps the first time in Pakistan’s history that such a budget has been set aside for this purpose. But the allocation of funds, she stresses, is only meaningful if the work is carried out under the supervision of trained conservation experts, following international standards.

“If restoration work is being assigned to ordinary contractors and historic buildings are being altered rather than restored to their original form, such work cannot genuinely be called conservation,” says Prof Vandal.

A MARKET DIVIDED

Not everyone on the ground is admiring the scenery. For the shopkeepers of Kutchery Bazaar, the transformation has brought disruption alongside decoration. The construction of a central green belt has effectively divided the market into two sections, forcing customers to take long detours to move from one side to the other.

Vehicle access has been restricted, but no adequate parking has been provided in the surrounding streets — a problem that has plagued the Clock Tower bazaars for decades and which a decade-long “parking plaza” project has failed to resolve.

Muhammad Irshad, who owns a cloth shop there, is direct about the failures. “The main issue in the Clock Tower bazaars has always been parking,” he says. Before aesthetics, before fountains, before ornamental lighting, the administration should have improved traffic flow and created proper parking infrastructure, he tells Eos.

Faisalabad’s assistant commissioner, Adil Umar, acknowledges the severity of the parking problem and tells Eos that approval has been granted for five parking structures, with designs finalised for two. He also admits that the central green belt experiment had been a mistake — confirming that no similar belts would be built in the remaining bazaars. “Such green belts do not exist in international markets anywhere in the world,” he accepts. “Because of the central green belt, both traders and visitors are facing difficulties.”

Absent from every list

Perhaps the most striking fact about Faisalabad’s heritage crisis is a bureaucratic one.

Despite the city’s rich and distinctive colonial-era architecture — built to a unique radial urban plan that remains one of the more unusual city layouts in South Asia — not a single building in Faisalabad has been included in the protected heritage list of the Punjab Archaeology Department. Not one of its historic structures features in the Punjab government’s province-wide restoration plan covering 170 heritage sites.

In 2014, the then District Coordination Officer, Noorul Amin Mengal, declared 45 historical buildings, constructed between 1901 and 1937, to be cultural heritage sites. More than a decade later, none of them has been added to the archaeology department’s protected list. Requests for comment from the current deputy commissioner went unanswered.

Prof Vandal urges citizens not to wait for the administration to act. The deputy commissioner, she says, should formally write to the relevant authorities to identify historically significant structures and seek their inclusion on the protected list. But if that does not happen, citizens themselves must demand it.

“Culture and history are not limited to buildings alone,” she reminds us. “Our crafts, artisans and traditional skills are also part of our cultural heritage, and must be preserved and revived so that these skills can be passed on to future generations,” says Prof Vandal. She then adds a prescient warning: “Otherwise, all of this will eventually disappear.”

Memory and façade

The debate over Faisalabad’s beautification project is, in the end, a debate about what a city owes its own past.

It is possible to hold two things simultaneously: that new lighting and clean footpaths are pleasant, and that painting over a crumbling wall is not the same as saving it. That tourists enjoy a photogenic marketplace, and that what makes a marketplace worth photographing — its age, its layers, its accumulated human story — is precisely what is being lost in the renovation.

Faisalabad was designed at the end of the 19th century as one of colonial Punjab’s most deliberate urban experiments. Its eight bazaars radiating from a central clock tower were not an accident of geography but a planned statement in brick and mortar. The city that grew from that plan has its own distinct identity — one that cannot be replicated by ornamental balconies or European-style pedestrian precincts, however well-intentioned.

The challenge for Faisalabad is no longer simply how to beautify its urban core. It is whether the city can preserve the soul, memory and identity of a place that once stood as one of colonial Punjab’s most distinctive urban centres — before the paint dries, and the buildings behind the façades disappear for good.

The writer has been associated with journalism for the past decade.
X: @naeemahmad876

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

That is, until six years ago, when the Earth and its humans were forced to still themselves, to enter into the realm of interiority during the coronavirus pandemic. When we collectively thought how very brittle and ephemeral our lives are. This is the story of how I became acquainted with this famed building.

CITY OF EARLY MEMORIES

Back during the stillness of the pandemic, I was called upon by the universe to become a repository of ancestral memories that no longer seemed middle class, monotonous and worthless. It meant an examination. Of newsroom and reporting life. The environment had pulverised me. I overcame the fear of the unknown and walked away.

Post-resignation, my early years of reporting excitement and nervousness returned. I set about interviewing my maternal relatives, scattered here in Pakistan and in North America. We went back in time to the mid-1950s. Ammi and her eldest brother narrated their first impressions of Karachi.

With their parents and four younger siblings, they had boarded a train from Lucknow, India. They had bid goodbye to their ancestral abodes and birthplaces, and disembarked in the newly formed country, Pakistan, at Karachi’s Cantt Station.

As Karachi’s 120-year-old Ghulam Hoosain Khalikdina Hall and Library finds a new lease of life and becomes a public space again, forgotten histories reveal how the city’s past continues to inhabit its present. From Partition-era recollections and Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar’s trial to art festivals and restoration projects, the story of Khalikdina Hall mirrors the many lives of Karachi itself

This Lukhnavi family, whose children had nicknames such as Jummu (Ammi’s eldest brother) and Jummi (my mother), had moved in temporarily with their relatives in a double-storeyed pre-Partition building on Bunder Road. The Pakistani government had perhaps allotted it to the relatives in exchange for their house in Allahabad in India. There they ran a stationery shop and were exclusive sellers of Parker and Sheaffer fountain pens. Jawaharlal Nehru and his daughter Indira Gandhi had been their clients in the 1930s.

The Allahabadi relatives’ eldest daughters, nicknamed Chunni and Munni, told their new housemates that their current abode was once the residence of a Hindu family that had fled to India. Perhaps the family was forcibly evicted when anti-Hindu riots broke out in Karachi in early 1948. We don’t know. Nobody remembers. The minds of Chunni, Munni, Jummu and Jummi now swirl with mottled memories.

Before it became inevitable that India and Pakistan were to suffer the trauma of Partition, Karachi was a Hindu-majority city and the capital of Sindh in 1937, after the province was separated from Bombay. Within a few months of the 1947 estrangement, there was the beginning of an exodus of Muslims from India into Pakistan. By 1955, Karachi was substantially Muslim and eight years had gone by since it was anointed as the official capital of the new country.

Chunni and Munni showed off a large traditional jhoola [swing] in their new home. They confessed that it did not belong to them but was abandoned by the former residents who left with bare belongings. On such a swing, siblings and cousins likely played card games, completed homework, soothed crying infants, read books and newspapers. Perhaps younger children rocked it vigorously as adults rested at noon.

Through the apartment’s latticed balcony, the children viewed the shaggy-headed banyan trees. With their broad, thick parrot-green leaves, the trees stood tall on the wide Bunder Road that was constructed to connect directly to the Keamari Port. At the time of Partition, millions of tons of cargo were transiting annually through its port, opening into the immense Arabian Sea. ‘Bunder’, they were told, meant a naval harbour and not ‘monkey’, as they thought when they first heard its name.

They observed men going into a hotel, uniformed waiters expertly holding salvers of curries and rice high on the palm of their hands. Looking up, the children saw a majestic building, the Khalikdina Hall and Library. “This is where Mohammad Ali Jauhar’s treason trial took place,” piped one of them.

Tak-takakat-tak-takakat! From below the balcony. “What is this sound?” asked 12-year-old Jummu. Men were hammering away. They were beating silver foils into chaandi ke varq — the gleaming silvery bits that decorated barfi and home-made kheer.

The children were called for dinner. On the dastarkhwan, placed on the floor, were bowls of rich mutton qorma, a platter of warming chicken biryani and stacks of aromatic sheermal. They were told the sumptuous food was from the Delhi Muslim Kali Hotel, whose waiters they had just seen.

After dinner, when they visited the toilet to wash-up, they heard booming sounds of men and women talking, emanating from the walls. Petrified, they rushed out. They were duly informed:

“These are dialogues that you are hearing.”

“Dialogues?”

“Yes, from the picture they are showing at the Ritz Cinema next door. We share the same wall.”

The next evening, the hosts took the visitors to stroll around Bunder Road and the Arambagh quarters. The older women put on their burqas and joined in. They crossed the wide road and stepped inside the Ghulam Hoosain Khalikdina Hall and Library. Inside the hall with high ceilings were huge pictures of the brothers Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar and Maulana Shaukat Ali, leaders of the Khilafat Movement, and their mother Bi Amma, their source of inspiration.

In his reminiscence of the eminent journalist and poet Maulana Mohammad Ali Jauhar, scholar Maulana Abdul Majid Daryabadi claims there was a time when every household in India was echoing with this song: “Boli amma Mohammad Ali ki/ Jaan beta khilafat pe de do [Said the mother of Mohammad Ali/ My son, lay down your life for the khilafat].”

In 191l, Mohammad Ali had started the English newspaper Comrade, with himself as its editor, stating, “The affairs of my [Muslim] community just at that juncture made it the only avenue through which I could prove of any appreciable use. I felt I should assist my community in taking its proper share in the political life of the country.”

By 1921, the British colonial authorities were livid with Mohammad Ali, with Jauhar as his nom de plume. According to them, Muhammad Ali had delivered a seditious speech against them at a Khilafat Conference in Lyari, declaring it haraam [forbidden] for Muslim soldiers in the British Army to wage war against Muslim nations. He was arrested for incitement to mutiny and brought to Karachi for trial at the Khalikdina Hall, along with six others. He was sentenced to two years of solitary imprisonment with hard labour.

As the strollers stepped out of the hall, Karachi’s gentle sea-breeze embraced them. The veils of the burqa-clad women fluttered. It was the visitors’ first experience of the famous ocean-breeze. Rows of shacks filled with old and new books, some well-known booksellers — such as Ferozsons publishers, the Taj Company and Oxford Press — lined alongside the Khalikdina Hall. A mosque, a cinema that showed only English films, Burnes Garden and a shop that sold burqas were some of the evening sightings. Karachi was alluring. A city that promised endless discoveries.

A few months later, the Lukhnavi family found permanent accommodation in Malir Halt’s Telephone and Telegraph Colony and moved out.

THE PAST IS ALWAYS PRESENT

Outside the tall fence metal gate, last November, the air pressed cold against my naked 50-something arms. Upon entering the walkway, my gaze fell on tanned colonnades crowned with a Greek-style pediment. The words plated over it came into view: The Ghulam Hoosain Khalikdina Hall and Library 1906. My proofreading instinct urged undoing of the British colonial spellings: Hoosain to Hussain and Khalikdina to Khaliqdina.

Its Palladian architecture evoked memories of the Pantheon in Rome, which I visited in 2011 with a sister whose relentless pompous commentary provoked me to nearly throttle her. The Roman Pantheon is said to be one of the most imitated buildings in history. In Karachi, we see its reflections in the DJ Science College and the Sindh High Court. This architectural style, with its design of a portico and free-standing columns, conjured power. Standing beneath the colonnades, it evoked one’s brittleness in the larger scheme of things.

I was here because of an invitation to meet the recently renovated Ghulam Hoosain Khalikdina Hall. Also, ostensibly, to attend the Reading Room Festival at the premises. It was organised by the Karachi Metropolitan Corporation (KMC) and Numaish Karachi, a collective dedicated to opening heritage spaces to the public, and its joint custodian until 2027.

Upon ascending the long horizontal steps, I saw pre-teen girls and boys in school uniforms gathered around musicians, seated on a takht, singing “Dil, dil Pakistan”, laughing and clapping. On the left was the library, spruced up with new bookshelves. Today, it was a space of hands-on workshops on several tables. Curious participants explored truck art, block-printing, pencil-shaving, basket-weaving and cross-stitching, taught by master craftsmen and upcoming crafters.

The descendant in me wanted to escape. To cross the road now known as Mohammad Ali Jinnah Road (or M.A. Jinnah Road), and search for the Lukhnavi family’s discarded routes. But the past was abandoned for the present, as I reconnected with journalist colleagues who arrived to attend the festival. Pleasant was the experience, but it reaffirmed my decision to leave journalism. For me, journalism was an afterthought. A final attempt in choosing a long-term profession after earlier trials in administrative, teaching and human resources jobs.

“Reporters are dwindling. Only interns are hired. I have to cover most events like this festival when I really want to attend a friend’s wedding reception happening now,” whined my ex-colleague.

I was not envious. Even though I missed my reporting mode: rushing from the site and fast-typing a story in under an hour while colleagues narrated hilarious anecdotes and supplied snacks. But, here today I savoured the time to explore the immersive crafts. Seated in a corner, I cross-stitched on a plastic square canvas. Nearby, I watched a girl hammer silver foil. A father and son shaved pencils.

The Muslim philanthropist who funded the space would probably approve its creative revitalisation, which prior to Numaish Karachi’s care was functioning as a mass vaccination centre during the Covid pandemic, a time of social distancing, lockdowns and masks. However, Seth Ghulam Hoosain Khalikdina needs to be seen within the context of the rise of a city.

During Sir Bartle Frere’s tenure as Karachi Commissioner from 1851 to 1859, he transformed the small harbour into a metropolis. After 1857, the British thought of developing Karachi as an alternative to Calcutta. The economic rise of the city went through a first spurt with the American Civil War (1861-1865), which resulted in a strong demand for the export of cotton.

This rise in demand coincided with the building of the railways system in the Subcontinent. Karachi was linked to Hyderabad in 1861 and to Lahore in 1865. The growth of Karachi was reinforced by the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869. In about 15 years, imports and exports had multiplied 15 times. Such rapid development attracted new trader castes, both Hindu and Muslim, from neighbouring provinces such as Gujarat, the Rajputana (now Rajasthan) and Punjab.

The growth, and thus the influence, of the mercantile communities can be evaluated through their buildings. The Khalikdina Hall and Library provide a good example of how institutions created during Frere’s tenure came under the control of local merchants. The Native General Library was founded in 1856. Motiram Advani, secretary of the library association, and Tahilram Khemchand, the president, decided to erect a new building to replace the old one because of the increasing number of members, books and furniture.

In 1902, the trustees of the charitable funds of the late Seth Khalikdina, a wealthy Khoja merchant, offered Rs15,000 for the new building, on the condition that the Seth’s name be associated with it. The KMC offered a matching financial contribution. Thus, the Ghulam Hoosain Khalikdina Hall and Library was opened in 1906 on Bunder Road.

RESTORING A BATTERED BUILDING AND CITY

Karachi’s heatwaves, especially in April, are suffocating and scorching. But during the earlier part of that month this year, the weather was unusual: overcast clouds and isolated rain in parts of the city.

With a faint nip that continues from November, on a late afternoon in early April, I meet up with Saima Zaidi. She is one of the six wheels behind the Numaish Collective, the joint custodian of the Ghulam Hoosain Khalikdina Hall and Library, until July 2027. The other custodian is the KMC.

As we drive towards our destination, Saima remarks, “Oh! This also has been dug up,” as we snake our way on a once-upon-a-time wide M. A. Jinnah Road, now littered with heaps of rubble and reduced to a battered lane. But with an air of resignation and attitude of ‘what can be done?’, we carry on talking. And then she shows me the crumpled and blackened Gul Plaza but then asks me to quickly look away. “I always avoid looking at it,” she says. Karachi is broken. A city that ensures endless unlikelihoods.

As we chat after arriving at Khalikdina Hall while gulping hot milky tea from paper cups, the ceiling fans stop whirring. “At this time, the electricity goes away,” she says. She flips the pages of a register with a worn-out blue pink cover. Columns display names of people, time, purpose of visit, all penned in blue ballpoint. Some Hindu names amongst several Muslim names.

A stubbly boy in jeans and full-sleeved shirt sees us, hesitates. He is motioned to sit down while we lower our voices and talk. Another boy walks in and sits down on one of the chairs created for the library thanks to a grant awarded to the collective. He places his books on the gleaming wooden table, retrieved from the KMC’s storage.

There is no librarian. The boys don’t get books ‘issued’. They are here for a space that lets them study and prepare for their tests and exams. It reminded me of the time in the late 1990s when I frequented the Liaquat Memorial Library on National Stadium Road. I went there to prepare for the Central Superior Services (CSS) exams. I was grateful for a space that allowed me to be away from my large family and non-studious classmates and to study in peace. There was a librarian at Liaquat Memorial Library but then, too, hardly anyone got books issued.

In 2015, Saima was teaching communication and design to her “overprotected” and “cocooned” students at Karachi’s Habib University when she realised her students had no idea how to navigate the city. She compared her experience to growing up in the 1990s, at the height of the terror perpetuated by a political party and its frequent calls for shutdowns. Yet, she still ventured out, knowing how to navigate the urban space.

The experience with her students led her, visual artists and art educators Durriya Kazi and Zoya Currimbhoy, and architects Nabiha Ahmed and Sabeen Nazeer to create the Numaish Collective, an interdisciplinary group that “aims to open public spaces of the city for cultural production — an open-air gallery, a laboratory and playground.” Their first initiative targeted the Gothic-style 19th century Frere Hall built by the British colonialists, as a venue for open-air events of creative installations.

Eight years later, they sought a library to be transformed into a free community space. Durriya Kazi thought of the Ghulam Hoosein Khalikdina Hall, the venue of the trial of her great grandfather, Muhammad Ali Jauhar. Under KMC management, their initial visits to the site were an amalgam of horror and possibility. In the library space, books donated to the community in 1906 were dumped on the ground, several stacked against broken windows.

As we leave the library, Saima relives the Numaish Collective’s first sights. Her words stumble out like hesitant bullets out of a pistol. We stand in the passageway outside the library and the hall. Walking on, her hands gesticulate, pointing to the once paan [betel] spit-stained corners, strewn wires, cracked walls, a bridge built within in the 1990s and the kabaarr [junk] present everywhere. It is easy to imagine this. Karachi’s urban spaces, new and old, are rich with this kind of neglect and apathy.

The immense hall, where pre-Partition badminton tournaments were organised, had been converted by the Sindh government into a Covid vaccination centre in 2021. Air conditioner wires were drilled into rare Burma teakwood arched doors, topped with five layers of paint, ranging from grey to parrot green over the years. By 2023, the coronavirus infections declined, as well as the public demand for vaccinations. The huge hall continued to hold space for three tables, four chairs and a paramedical staff. Just in case.

Saima takes me to the Student Welfare Organisation office beside the hall. A plain short woman, head and torso sheathed in black chador, talks to two other women. Behind her are stairs, leading to an unlit storage room, filled with redundant iron drawers half-opened and stuffed with papers, shelves of books, cartons and files lying on the floor haphazardly like an abandoned child at a fair whose parents have stopped looking for. “Imagine this but much worse, when we took over,” says Saima.

Back at the hall, I am led towards the main door, with its immense brass bolts eyed by drug addicts to steal, sell and fund their drug use. Saima pauses, looks around the restored doors, locks, lights and the flooring underneath. She shakes her head and says, “I find this all so surreal.” I nod, my attention caught by stray dogs barking, an uncontrolled menace in the city.

The KMC was willing to entrust the building to the women-led collective for restoration but sans financial resources. The collective entered a British Council grant competition supported by the Cultural Protection Fund, in partnership with the UK Government’s Department for Culture Media and Sport. According to Saima, “It’s very competitive.” Still, they won the grant that allowed them four months of uninterrupted renovation in 2024.

Saima is at pains to not be critical of the KMC. “They did not interfere,” she emphasises as she looks into my eyes. She fears the criticism will not be well-received. I understand. As a reporter, I have experienced backlash from critiquing sacred cows.

“The Numaish Collective has always believed in working with the government,” continues Saima. They found a heritage lover in KMC civil engineer Shakiluzzaman Khan. He thought about the lights, had them retrieved from KMC storage, cleaned up and installed in the hall space. The former administrator of Karachi, Fahimuzzaman Siddiqui, remembered during his tenure spotting the Muhammad Ali Jauhar trial stand in the storage. That was also found, cleaned and installed in the hall space. A hanging art installation titled Khayal was commissioned from the artist Muzummil Ruheel, who created an eye-catching arabesque wreath.

For the library’s books, they collaborated with architect consultants Sadiq and Polack, who helped decide which books to keep and to let go those that had become fragile over the years. Each salvageable book was cleaned and rebound. The librarians of the Anjuman Taraqqi-i-Urdu were brought in to catalogue the books.

Once the Numaish Collective figured out which book no longer had copyright issues, they had them digitally scanned and made them available online (https://readingroomkarachi.org/). A sign of the times. The future book world without the physical pleasure of holding a book or hearing the crackle of a page or inhaling the odour of a leathered binding. For now, the physical books are encased inside the newly built wood and glass cupboards.

A NEW LEASE OF LIFE

Evidently, the Numaish Collective has given the Ghulam Hoosein Khalikdina Hall and Library a new lease of life. But what about its longevity? “We are here till July 2027 but can be thrown out anytime. After us, who is going to carry on? Karachi’s architecture is beautiful, even though it is [only] a couple of hundred years old. It needs qadar-daans [connoisseurs]. It is these qadar-daans who have turned around the Flagstaff House, have created the TDF Ghar and the Magnifiscience Centre from forgotten, pre-Partition buildings,” says Saima, sounding like a feeble click of a vintage pistol.

In the absence of KMC funding, money is a persistent concern for the collective. Help has come in the form of the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund and by organising fashion shows and concerts at the venue.

But regular visitors are going to expect more than exhibitions, festivals, fashion shows and concerts at the historical landmark. Though the Numaish Collective claims its future goal is to hire a librarian, let’s be upfront here: the reading culture in Pakistan has taken a nose dive. At the end of the day, students living in cramped spaces who can’t dream of a room of their own just want a space where they can stretch their legs and arms and study peacefully. The least the KMC can do is to ensure a regular supply of electricity.

It’s been decades since Jummu and Jummi, and their cousins Chunni and Munni visited their first abode in the newly formed country. I have told them about my visits to the area, triggering a torrent of memories. They ignore my laments over its current state. They live in the past, where the Ghulam Hoosein Khalikdina Hall echoes with Allama Rasheed Turabi’s Muharram majlis and reminds them of Lucknow’s imambaras.

In a past where Bunder Road, the Delhi Muslim Kali Hotel and the Ritz Cinema exist and continue to live on in their imagination.

The writer is a long-time journalist and is
currently working on a culinary memoir

Published in Dawn, EOS, June 14th, 2026

Minogue is well-represented in this documentary. Her commentary shows her depth of character, understanding and connection as a music professional.

Minogue frames the documentary, sitting in what looks like her archive room, going through boxes of slides and mementoes, including a glorious moment with a 1980s boombox, which she says “started it all.”

‘How would you feel if that was your daughter?’

As Adrian Renzo and I found in our book, Kylie, an exploration of her first album, there were different standards applied to Minogue than to her male contemporaries when she began in the industry. Minogue and her sister, Dannii, started as children in the Australian music and media industries.

Netflix’s new multi-part documentary charts Kylie Minogue’s remarkable journey from being the target of critics’ bile to a global pop sensation

Dannii was the first in the family to be a musician via Young Talent Time.

Minogue appeared as a child actor in shows such as The Sullivans and The Henderson Kids. But her star truly rose with her role as Charlene Robinson in the soap opera Neighbours. Her ascension in music and television collided in 1987 with her single Locomotion and the famous wedding of Charlene and Scott (Jason Donovan).

As a musician and actor, Minogue received huge commercial success, fuelled by young fans, many of whom were young girls and queer people. In the documentary, she expresses great gratitude for her gay audience, and a shared sense of feeling out of place but still having pride in yourself.

Minogue also received harsh criticism from music industry “experts” who claimed she was too young or too “soapie” to deserve the success she achieved. One radio station launched an active “no Kylie” campaign. Music industry figures dehumanised her by calling her a “singing budgie.” We found one critic at a major Sydney newspaper who wrote Minogue should get herself “in the path of a descending jumbo.”

The Netflix documentary explores the duality of this period. We see headlines saying “I Hate Her” and “She is Nothing”, edited with archival footage of happy crowds and Minogue on stage. Television archive footage of an unnamed male commentator says of Minogue, “you no longer need to be interesting to get to number one, you can just be a sort of human, crocheted scarf.”

“Being 19 years old and having to cop that, that was unpleasant,” Minogue says, reflecting back on that time. Later in the documentary, Minogue is more direct:

“One of the terms used to describe me, the singing budgie, had the human part missing — who decides this is cool?... What would happen if I met with them and sat face to face with them, and said, ‘How would you feel if that was your daughter?’”

The reaction to Minogue at the time was damaging to her as an individual. It served as a reminder to those who loved Minogue — young girls like I was at the time, and young queer people like Adrian was at the time — who were not valued by those in positions of power.

Missing stories

Minogue’s triumph over the subsequent decades has shown that those in power have changed. It is no longer acceptable to target a young woman with suggestions of violence in the press. Those who would dismiss the value of an audience of young women or queer people now clearly would do so at their own cultural and financial risk.

The documentary does still fall into the trap of using Minogue’s male colleagues and relationships as a way of validating her. Minogue’s influence in the United Kingdom and beyond is underpinned by international songwriter Peter Waterman. As one of the iconic songwriters and producers Stock, Aiken and Waterman (SAW), Waterman shows how Minogue was created as a global pop brand.

Nick Cave tells a large part of the story — worthy, but perhaps a bit uneven, given it really was only one single they made together. Donovan appears early on to discuss the early years, swearing about being overshadowed by her at the time, but with no real malice. It would have been great to hear more from Minogue’s female contemporaries and friends. Dannii is a regular feature, but others in more prominent spots would have been great.

Another key feature missing from the documentary is the Australian story and the support provided to her by the pioneering Australian record label Mushroom. While its founder, Michael Gudinski, has since passed away, Amanda Pelman, who signed Minogue to Mushroom and released her memoir earlier this year, would have been a great addition.

As a documentary, Kylie tracks how the media has changed over the last few decades, especially when it comes to how women and their audiences are treated. Minogue’s connection to her fans, her family and her work ethic is inspiring, as is her unapologetic celebration of the role pop music plays in making life worth living.

Kylie is now streaming on Netflix.

The writer is Associate Professor in Media at the University of Technology in Sydney, Australia

Republished from The Conversation

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2026

If you’re a millennial, you probably grew up watching charming Hollywood romances such as My Best Friend’s Wedding (1997), Notting Hill (1999) and Love Actually (2003). These typically glossy, slightly fantastical, fate-driven romantic movies were based on the premise that love is something that is destined and marriage is the ultimate goal.

They usually revolved around two impossibly perfect people navigating a series of external obstacles and misunderstandings before finally finding their way to each other.

Romantic films of the 1990s and early 2000s built on these tropes because they were set in a time when audiences still strongly believed in idealised love, fate and “the one.” People were finding their partners through slower, more contained social worlds — school, work, neighbourhoods and chance encounters — so stories were built around misunderstandings, longing and delayed connections that felt emotionally plausible and aspirational.

The Netflix miniseries Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen and the movie The Drama, both released this year, fly in the face of rom-com tropes of old. What has changed in how we perceive relationships and ‘happily ever after’?

Melanie Maimon, an assistant professor of psychology at Rhode Island’s Bryant University, with expertise in social psychology, stated in an article for Bryant News that viewers enjoy romantic comedies precisely because they do not accurately depict relationships and because they showcase things we wish were easier for us. They enjoy the escapism and detachment from reality that rom-coms offer.

These films also emerged during a relatively optimistic cultural period, before social media transformed the idea of love. Audiences were more willing to suspend logic and invest in fantasies: beautiful people, grand gestures and emotionally uncomplicated endings.

Today, culture is more sceptical, pragmatic and psychologically literate. Modern audiences tend to value realism, emotional complexity, power dynamics, mental health and individuality over fairy-tale perfection. Dating apps, internet culture and constant social visibility have also changed how people experience romance, making older romantic conflicts sometimes feel vacuous.

Audiences are now drawn to more grounded, realistic stories, where the main conflicts arise from psychological or emotional struggles, clashing ambitions or past baggage. Case in point: La La Land (2016) and Past Lives (2023). Why are such stories resonating with audiences?

This generation no longer expects to stumble upon the love of their life in a quaint café or bookstore, or through a chance encounter, as rom-com films once depicted. They can now comb through a person’s entire digital life before even deciding to meet them for the first time. They are more aware, cautious and cynical. Marriage is no longer seen as a milestone that must be reached by a certain age, but as a crucial decision with consequences that warrants careful consideration.

This focus on emotional unease, psychological tension, and the fragility of connection is at the centre of two new romantic stories, Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen and The Drama, both of which were released this year.

Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen is a Netflix miniseries that was released earlier this year. It is a psychological horror centring on Rachel (Camila Morrone) and Nicky (Adam DiMarco), an engaged couple preparing for their wedding at Nicky’s family’s secluded estate. As the day of the wedding approaches, a sense of impending doom hangs in the air. What begins as pre-wedding anxiety slowly spirals into paranoia, dread and revelations about family secrets, curses and existential dread.

The series cleverly subverts the pre-wedding cold-feet trope, weaving wedding jitters with a blood-spattered, sinister curse. Marriage is depicted as a death sentence and is used as a metaphor for commitment, intimacy and the fear of choosing the wrong person. The entire show is about the anxiety that comes with never knowing with full certainty that you are marrying your soulmate — and the danger that comes with it.

The Drama is a romantic movie about a happily engaged couple, Emma (Zendaya Coleman) and Charlie (Robert Pattinson), during the week leading up to their wedding in Boston. During a drunken game with their married best friends, they agree to reveal the worst thing they have ever done.

While the other friends share mildly ‘immoral’ misdeeds — such as one man using an ex-girlfriend as a human shield against a dog — Emma reveals a secret that abruptly shifts the mood in the room. She shares that, as a 15-year-old (spoiler ahead!), she meticulously planned and almost executed a school shooting after being a victim of bullying.

This revelation sends Charlie into a psychological tailspin. He starts having misgivings about whether Emma is the right partner for him and begins hyper-analysing her every move. Does she still have homicidal tendencies? Is she inherently violent? This raises the question of how much honesty a relationship can truly sustain. Is full vulnerability ever in one’s favour, or does it risk coming back to haunt someone later?

Both of these stories represent modern anxieties around relationships, dating culture, emotional isolation and the changing expectations of partnerships, which resonate more with audiences than picture-perfect love stories that culminate in the couple driving off into a glowing sunset.

Marriage is portrayed as a lifelong commitment to someone who, ultimately, remains a stranger. Rather than presenting love as a certainty, these narratives portray intimacy as fragile, where a long-buried secret can be enough to unravel a relationship.

Ultimately, both stories raise the question of how many of our partners’ past lives we are willing to carry into our own. This indicates a broader cultural shift: contemporary storytelling is less interested in perfect unions and more invested in the instability that comes with truly knowing another person.

This stands in stark contrast to older romantic movies, where the idea of romance was often facile and naïve, with formulaic narratives in which two people, separated by circumstances, social pressures or misunderstandings, would inevitably reunite. Today, however, romances explore a wider emotional landscape, offering more complex and nuanced narratives that resonate with audiences on a deeper level.

This shift says a lot about the emotional sensibilities of the audience. Romance is increasingly seen as ambiguous and fragmented, shaped by timing, circumstances and emotional readiness. Viewers recognise that relationships do not follow a clear trajectory, nor do they inevitably end in a happy union.

As a result, audiences resonate more with stories that embrace the complications and contradictions of love than those promising ‘happy ever afters’ and sweeping declarations. Perhaps the enduring appeal of modern romance lies not in its promises but in its honesty.

The writer is a clinical psychologist and a freelance journalist. She can be reached at

rabeea.saleem21@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2026

The French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan once said that the most tragic thing about masculinity was that it had a symbol.

He didn’t have He-Man in mind when he made this comment. He died in 1981, two years before the original cartoon’s debut. But he might as well have. (He was talking about the phallus, if you’re wondering).

It is difficult to think of a more quintessentially Freudian creation than Mattel’s hyperbolically muscular hero: a man who, in the words of his evil nemesis Skeletor in this new remake, draws his power from that “strong, powerful thing hanging between your legs.”

The central conceit of this take on Masters of the Universe is to make, in effect, a male Barbie movie. Taking a similarly gendered toy product as its prompt, the film tasks itself with answering the question of what He-Man means to audiences in 2026. I suspect phrases like “fresh take”, “modern sensibility” and “toxic masculinity” were used with considerable earnestness at various pitch meetings in the film’s pre-production process.

What Masters of the Universe gets badly wrong is the assumption that the over-the-top masculinity of its campy hero needs to be explained or justified

The story unfolds as follows. A brief prologue introduces us to the young Prince Adam (He-Man before he becomes He-Man) of Eternia, not as a mighty warrior but as a boy struggling to live up to the manly prowess of his father’s expectations. At the bottom of his class in a militaristic world of combat, he is considered by pretty much everyone as a likeable but weedy young boy, ill-equipped to face the world as a proper man.

Then the evil Skeletor shows up, usurps his father’s throne and forces Adam into exile on Earth, where he must embark on a journey of self-discovery, so that he can one day return to the world of Eternia, where he belongs and regain his father’s throne.

The film treats the idea of a flawed, contemporary Adam with conspicuous sincerity, though the first act mines Adam’s embattled masculinity for comedy. We encounter him working in HR, specialising in conflict resolution. His work badge features pronouns. He attends seminars on consent, shares “his truth” freely, and listens compassionately to the truths of others. He is emphatically not the He-Man we remember. Yet, supposedly, he has power, or at the very least is going to.

The continuous jabs at the mismatch between modern society and the masculine ideals embodied in Mattel’s original He-Man toy are presumably attempting to offer a more nuanced, or at the very least more irreverent, take on the He-Man character.

This assumes that comedy always subverts things. It doesn’t. Instead, the humour acts as a kind of permission structure, signalling self-awareness as a means of excusing the moments it actually takes seriously.

There are endless jokes made at the expense of contemporary woke culture. There are some jokes made at the more absurd elements of the franchise’s mythology and iconography. But no jokes are made at anything fundamental to the franchise’s lore or logic.

The film does not invite laughter at the expense of the male physique, the importance of bravery or the combat-based rules by which this entire fantasy world is governed. Indeed, it is here where the humour dries up, choosing to find its “heart” at the moments of physical conquest and sacrifice as Adam returns to Eternia and, well… I shan’t spoil it, but I suspect you can guess the rest.

What Masters of the Universe gets badly wrong is the assumption that the franchise needs to be explained or justified, that He-Man’s phallic symbolism requires management and modernisation rather than, simply, play.

He-Man was never supposed to make sense to begin with. If he had a virtue, it was that the absurdly phallic franchise allowed young children of any gender to hold just a little lighter the gender ideals expected of them. He-Man’s bulging biceps and absurdly one-dimensional characterisation allowed him to embody masculinity in a way no actual man could. And, paradoxically, that made masculinity feel less real as a concept as a result.

The original 1983 cartoon was produced to sell toys, and it sold them most effectively when it was delirious, incoherent and utterly indifferent to the anxieties of adult interpretation. Even the original live-action film was confident enough to produce the camp masculine spectacle that the franchise represents.

This new film is too afraid of its shadow to simply let He-Man be what he is, and trust modern audiences to know what to do with him.

The writer is Lecturer in Digital Media Production at the University of Westminster in the UK

Republished from The Conversation

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2026

Zabt | Geo TV, Daily 7.00pm

This serial is strictly for those who enjoy well-made melo­dramas that move quickly and keep family politics sharp as a knife.

Ayla (Zoha Tauqeer) is naïve and superficial and contemptuous of her cousin, Aoun (Sachal Afzal), the abandoned son of divorced parents who lives like an orphan and is despised by the whole family. Ayla has always been attracted to her other cousin, Shami (Daniyal Khan), whose family has money and power. This serious story from writer Saima Akram Chaudhry (famous for her rom-coms) about the deep dysfunction in a joint family highlights the clash between tradition and religion. To their delight, Ayla and Shami are married in a nikaah ceremony, but told to wait for the rukhsati. Can an excited young couple, living in the same house, possibly hold back?

The characterisations are mostly black-and-white but allow for enough grey to make them relatable. Sachal Afzal and Zoha Tauqeer put in some strong performances, while Daniyal Khan is still a mixed bag. When Ayla becomes pregnant, despite being married, she is haunted by fear and shame because Shami is a weak “mama’s boy.”

Laaj | Green Entertainment, Fri-Sun 8.00pm

Green Entertainment brings us another dark thriller that pans out surprisingly well despite its sloppy teasers. Writer Sajjad Zaidi sketches out some interesting characters and director Ali Farhan weaves them into a dark story that captures your attention.

Raees Ali (Alyy Khan) is a powerful district commissioner (DC), shaped by past trauma. He has become unyielding and bitter, and is fiercely protective of his younger sisters. As a consequence, his sisters lead hidden lives. Abeera (Aiza Awan) is a dreamer, a talented painter who studies in secret and is influenced by Shahnawaz (Syed Jibran), a wealthy man and renowned artist, who is a manipulative womaniser who murders anyone who demands more than he can give. Sachal Afzal plays Asad, the man who loves Abeera but is fast losing ground to the clever Shahnawaz.

This is a strong, suspense-filled serial with good performances from Alyy Khan and Syed Jibran. With an out-of-the-box story of obsession and revenge, this drama illustrates how authoritarian attitudes and a lack of intergenerational trust create opportunities for predators.

Raja London Ka | Express TV, Mon-Tues 8.00pm

Like every Shahid Dogar script, there is an underdog hero and a docile, personality-free heroine who is beyond his reach in this serial.

Those used to Samar Jafri as a spoiled, urban heartthrob will be shocked to see him painted in an unbelievable shade of brown and presented as a working-class Karachi boy. Once that shock is over, they will be further shaken to see him in slow-motion, South Indian-style “attitude fights” and the irritating hum of a vocalist in his scenes, to remind us what a special little man he is.

Putting that aside, the script has the seeds of a good story, with Zaviyar Ijaz as Sultan, the eternal third-person who, despite wealth and looks, cannot compete with our unwashed hero. Apart from the tan and leering that passes for romance, Samar Jafri’s screen presence makes up for a lack of realism. Just like Abdullahpur Ka Devdas, the backstory around Sultan and his Machiavellian political family is actually better made and more intriguing than the main plot. On a side note, many have pointed out Samar Jafri’s use of a “black face” and how this takes roles away from actors who are tanner and who would look more organic in such roles.

##What To Watch Out For (Or Not)##

Bombay Tailors | Hum TV, Coming soon

Anika Zulfikar and Ali Ansari star in Bombay Tailors, a drama about unfulfilled dreams.

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2026

A big reason for the freshness is that Prada 2 is not based on novelist Lauren Weisberger’s sequels to the original novel. The screenplay, by returning screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna, chooses a realistic, grounded story that takes its time getting to its point. The pay-off, as the story enters its third act, is excellent.

In the first film, Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway), an aspiring journalist, becomes the personal assistant to Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) — one of the most feared and revered editors in fashion publishing. Miranda’s magazine, Runway, is inspired by American Vogue, and she herself is an inspired version of Vogue’s editor-in-chief, Anna Wintour. The real-world parallels in Prada 2 evolve from characters and publication to focus on bigger problems.

Andy receives an award for journalistic excellence and, during the ceremony, she and her journalist friends learn, via text message, that they have all been fired from their newspaper. Meanwhile, Runway is also in trouble — having published a puff piece about a brand that uses sweatshop labour. For course correction, Runway’s parent company hires Andy as features editor without Miranda’s consent.

Trading glamour for substance, The Devil Wears Prada 2 explores journalism, corporate culture and digital disruption while giving its iconic characters space to grow

However, the magazine is not what it used to be. No longer a print publication, its approach to stories has dramatically changed in the age of social media. People no longer read the long paragraphs; they read headlines, look at the fashion, skim the text (not recalling anything), and hit ‘like’ and ‘share’.

Prada 2 takes a while rebuilding its world in today’s reality, where corporate decisions and the need to engage overtake journalistic integrity — a reality any print media organisation knows all too well.

Returning director David Frankel isn’t in a hurry. At times, one feels there is more meandering than storytelling, but it gives the movie a relaxed pace and some time for character re-development. The story — which takes precedence over fashion and the eye-catching clothes — leads somewhere.

Every character, be it Hathaway, Streep, the wonderful Stanley Tucci as Miranda’s right hand and Emily Blunt as her former assistant, now an executive at Dior, get respectable slots in the spotlight. The performances are universally excellent.

There are some aspects that don’t gel — such as Andy’s hunt for a more posh apartment in New York to match her higher pay scale at Runway, when she already rents an affordable Lower East Side flat. Given that she knows the volatility of a career in journalism, the move to a more expensive place doesn’t make sense. Perhaps it’s due to the still-naive nature of her character?

The address change does help her meet her new love interest (Patrick Brammall) — though that interaction could have been rewritten differently.

Another nitpick: Kenneth Branagh’s role as Miranda’s passive-minded new husband. For a good while, one thought he was just her driver. One also felt, at times, that Miranda wasn’t being taken seriously as a character. Thankfully, that gets rectified fast.

These minor issues do not detract from the film’s experience. Notwithstanding the modern lenses and the not-so-film look of Prada 2, the storytelling comes as close as possible to how films felt two decades ago.

Compared to the first film, there is less flash and more restraint here. As if the fun of the old, organic, tangible world has been replaced by the unfeeling swipes of everything digital. One almost feels that the film is asking how, in this new world, old moguls such as Miranda — who has to curb her imperiousness because of PR complaints — survive?

It is a question Prada 2 not only asks but answers, the best way it can: without sermons or preachy declarations, but by telling a good, relevant, entertaining story.

Released by 20th Century Studios, The Devil Wears Prada 2 is rated PG-13 by the MPAA. The film features cool, chic clothes and a dose of reality in the guise of a commercial entertainer

The writer is Icon’s primary film reviewer

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2026

“The time is coming when I won’t be offered the role of the heroine and that’s okay. I want to do other kinds of roles that I haven’t done before. Glamour and beauty didn’t affect me before either.”

“With due respect, why do we need a drama serial on Pinky, the ‘cocaine queen’? Why even go there? We have so many incredible women’s stories in Pakistan that could be explored, like Case No 9.”

“Devdas is so overrated. It has no storyline and it glamourises alcoholism.”

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2026

Mishi Khan, the actress-turned-social media commentator, is not happy with the way Pakistani films are being made. With reference to the recent Eid releases she had a strong response: “Please spare us with this nonsense ‘support Pakistani cinema’ line. Why do you make such bad films that they are removed right after Eid? We want to see beautiful dances and proper cinematic entertainment, not a basic drama that we can watch on television.” To be honest, Mishi K does have a point. In fact, truth be told, we can’t find basic dramas on television either.

What A Character!

There’s a line in the film Pulp Fiction: “Just because you are a character doesn’t mean that you have character.” It seems that Naumaan Ijaz has been inspired by this quote. Channelling his inner philosopher, the actor posted the following pearls of wisdom on social media: “Anyone can change their words. Even smiles can be artificial. Intentions also remain hidden behind faces. But character is such a veil that never stays hidden for long. So always remember one thing: your character is your real signature.” Such a great character actor he is.

Back to School

Actor Danish Taimoor shared a personal moment with his fans when he recently visited his old school. He shot a video there and reminisced about his classrooms, the old name of the school and where he would play sports with his friends. He also met with a teacher and the gatekeeper of the school. Netizens liked the video because it enabled them to see a personal side of the actor. We think that Danish T should take them on a visit to the institution where he learned the art of acting. But wait… we don’t think that exists — which may explain quite a lot.

Ms Ambassador

Aishwarya Rai-Bachchan may not be acting in movies as often as she should, but she does steal the spotlight and headlines every now and then, for one reason or another. The former Miss World is now the first global brand ambassador of J.W. Marriott. She will be part of the swanky hotel chain’s ‘Stay in the Moment’ campaign that aims to highlight “mindful travel, well-being and meaningful connections.” We congratulate Ash B for becoming the global brand ambassador. Here’s hoping she stays in the moment.

The Tone of Friends

During a joint interview with her former co-star Lisa Kudrow, Jennifer Aniston discussed the guest appearances of Hollywood actors on their sitcom Friends. After mentioning actors such as Brad Pitt (Jennifer A’s ex-husband), Julia Roberts, Sean Penn and Isabella Rossellini, Jennifer A remarked, “They were always nervous… I always found [that] fascinating.” Lisa K said that perhaps the “tone” of Friends was the reason for the nervousness: “I remember someone asked one time [about the tone]. I didn’t know how to explain it, so I said, ‘Oh, just talk louder. Same intention, just…’” Aniston added: “Just louder!” Who knew Friends shared a tone with our Punjabi films!

Gigi, the Actress

Supermodel Gigi Hadid is now an actress as well. Yes. The gorgeous gal made her acting debut on June 2, in the third episode of the new comedy series Not Suitable for Work, created and executive produced by actress and comedian Mindy Kaling. Gigi H plays the girlfriend of an investment banker played by Jay Ellis and makes a cameo appearance in the Hulu series. Those who have seen her act say she’s quite a capable actress. In fact, Mindy K said that Gigi H was great and she wants to bring back her character to the show. If that’s the case, then modelling’s loss could be acting’s gain.

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2026

Her acting prowess is compelling and irrefutable. All she needs to do is step into a frame and the eye is drawn towards her. She won’t be the loudest voice in the room. Nor will she court headlines with regular, viral social media content. She might not play the ‘main lead’, per se, in a project. But in spite of all this, Hajra always stands apart, on the basis of sheer talent.

“You know, some time ago, someone observed that I seemed very calm and asked if I was not as passionate about my work,” Hajra tells Icon. “I said no, I just know where I am going, and I know that what is to happen is unstoppable. No one can get in my way because the big guy at the top is looking after me. I am just, very patiently, looking forward to all the different pieces of the puzzle to come together.”

This was our conversation a few weeks ago. Today, her words ring true, with some of the pieces of the puzzle truly coming together neatly.

Whether playing the unwanted wife, a doomed girlfriend or another supporting character, actress Hajra Yamin has the rare ability to draw all eyes to herself. And it’s not because of her curly locks. As audiences celebrate her layered performance in Dr Bahu, she explains why she would willingly straighten her hair and trade her critical acclaim for commercial success…

In a recent episode of the currently on-air ARY Digital drama Dr Bahu, Hajra’s character, Minna, suffered a breakdown and, without too many words or theatrics, she made the audience cry with her. Social media has been flooded with praise for her performance, with many pointing out that they want to see an actress of her calibre in more dramas and in even better roles.

Throughout Dr Bahu, even though she is not playing the lead, Hajra has consistently delivered an outstanding performance. She expresses emotion and restraint through fleeting glances, pauses or a subtle squaring of her shoulders, establishing her character as a crucial linchpin of the storyline.

She is also starring in two other mainstream dramas: the top-rated Humrahi on Geo Entertainment and the long-awaited Aik Mohabbat Aur on Green Entertainment. Again, she may not be playing the archetypal lead, but when she comes onscreen, her impact lingers.

“I would, one day, like to be the main lead in a love story,” she says, “but as an actor, you have to make the best out of whatever comes your way. So, if what I am doing on-screen today is making the audience pause and feel that my performance is memorable, it is because, over these years, I have been preparing. All this love and attention will take me to better places.”

She adds: “Where I am right now is also a great place. If I had gotten everything early, then what I am doing right now would not have come to me. I did not have the same hold over my craft back when I first started out eight years ago. There were highs and lows but, looking back today, it was all fun.

“It’s so crazy, but when life gets difficult, one of the first things that comes to my mind is how I can translate the emotions I am feeling on to the screen. Ultimately, it is a luxury to get tired while struggling in a line of work that you love.”

She also has the audience’s love, I point out to her. She smiles. “This is something that I only realised recently. It is overwhelming.”

MAKING ‘SPACE’

The audience’s faith in her stems from the many different roles that she has played over the course of her career. Hajra has always tried to swim against the tide, opting for challenging characters rather than the usual commercially viable ones.

Having said that, with Dr Bahu, one wonders if she is getting pigeonholed into playing the unwanted wife? After all, she had played a similar role in her last memorable role in Noor Jehan. While both roles have been lauded, did she also sense the repetition?

“The basic crux is the same,” she agrees, “which is why I had initially refused to play my role in Dr Bahu. But then, Nadeem [Baig] bhai, who has produced the drama under the Six Sigma Entertainment banner, intervened and told me that he really wanted to see me in this role. I had played Sumbul in Noor Jehan and Ifra in Main Manto Nahin Hoon, and he said that Minna in Dr Bahu would depict me in a new light.”

But does it really?

“The thing is, when I read the whole script, I felt that Minna’s background was different from Sumbul’s,” she replies. “She is educated but lacks confidence. She is patient, but she will reach a breaking point and finally make a decision for herself. I was very focused on portraying Minna in a different way, and then, of course, she does reach a different conclusion.”

She continues: “I also have to give credit to Adeel Husain for giving me the freedom to perform. The first time I saw him act was in Daam. He had been incredible, and I was very excited to be acting with him in Dr Bahu. He is incredibly generous and secure as an actor, giving you room to play while, in a very raw, organic way, making sure that his own character is registered.

“You see, in Dr Bahu, Minna did not have as many nuances to her as Sumbul had in Noor Jehan. I learnt from Adeel how an actor needs to make space for themselves, shamelessly, passionately, regardless of the script. I love it.”

GRAVITATING TO DIRECTORS

It seems that Nadeem Baig was right: Minna has proven to be yet another feather in Hajra’s well-plumed acting hat.

“Nadeem Baig is someone that I can always trust to be fair with every single character in a story,” declares Hajra. “Although he is a male director, he has a well-developed female gaze. He knows how to tell a story in an extremely sensitive way, capturing details and nuances that even you sometimes don’t realise are there.”

Is this why she signed on to play the minuscule role of Ifra in the Nadeem Baig-directed Main Manto Nahin Hoon? “Yes,” comes the reply. “Ifra’s character on paper was far more limited than what Nadeem Baig made it appear on screen. I think if any director can pull off a script written by Khalil-ur-Rehman Qamar, it’s Nadeem Baig. He told me that my character will be loved, and I was on board.”

She adds, “The drama had such a great ensemble cast that I knew that, even if I was playing a small role, it would be seen, and that is exactly what happened — it was watched by a lot of people.”

We move on to her more recent characters. What inclined her towards Humrahi, which features Danish Taimoor and Hiba Bukhari in a romantic pairing?

“This was the first time that I was going to work with Babar Javed, and he’s a very respected name in the industry,” says Hajra. “I really enjoyed myself. I learnt how to channel my emotions without being allowed the luxury of time. As actors, we need to be flexible because, sometimes, there are lighting issues or outdoor shoots that need to wrap up by a certain time. Humrahi taught me that, with a good director of photography (DOP) and good production quality, a lot more work can be completed without compromising on the acting.”

And what prompted her to sign on to Aik Mohabbat Aur, co-starring Ahad Raza Mir and Maya Ali? “The director, Farooq Rind,” she says simply. “When I read the script, I didn’t see much room for myself, but my manager insisted that Dada [a popular nickname for Farooq Rind] would make something substantial of the role. When I started shooting for the drama, I clicked with him within a few days. He is such a pleasant, patient director to work with.”

She adds, “Usually on TV drama sets, there is this rush to get work completed. But with directors such as Nadeem Baig and Farooq Rind, the scenes being played out are the main priority. When you get a taste of sets like these, where the performance is everything, where you rehearse and where everyone on set is treated equally, you no longer want to settle for less.”

THE HAIR AND AFTER

Hajra has straight hair in Aik Mohabbat Aur, which I observe is a departure from her signature thick, curly mane. “Yes, I wanted to try out a new look, even though the director said that he was fine with my hair. However, I wanted it to be straight.”

In fact, Hajra’s curly hair is striking and unique — has she ever considered getting it permanently straightened to achieve a more conventional look? “I have thought about it and, if the director or a character requires it, I am willing to change my appearance,” she replies.

“I really love my hair, though. What irks me, though, is when people start talking about only my hair and not my performance.” I don’t think that’s possible, I tell her.

COMMERCIAL OR CRITICAL ACCLAIM?

Does she prefer commercial or critical acclaim?

“Commercial,” she answers promptly. “I love being critically acclaimed, but I have been there, done that, and I think that some people subconsciously have started thinking that I only want to work in certain genres. That’s not true. As an actor, I want to work in every genre and be seen in every type of project.”

She continues: “I am at a point in my career where I know what I bring to the screen and the impact that I leave. I am blessed that, even when I play a relatively small role, the response is always phenomenal.”

I tease her: some of her peers might find working with her intimidating. Her eyes widen, and she exclaims, “Yes, I have heard that!” She pauses. “It can sometimes lead to power struggles, when people register your talent but still don’t want to work with you. There have been times when actors and actresses have said that they don’t want to work with me because they feel that I will overshadow them.”

That sounds like a blessing and a burden, I comment. She agrees.

“Luckily, I have now found a selection of people who want to collaborate with me rather than dim my light. This is why I have become very selective about the work that I do — I want to only work with people who are secure and want to work collectively to make a project better.”

GARNERING PRAISE

It is a testament to Hajra’s talent that even when she is relegated to a comparatively small role — the unwanted wife, the girlfriend who gets murdered after four episodes and so on — the audience is riveted by her performances. Imagine the power that she could wield should channels, producers and directors sign her on for better roles and give her better placement in dramas.

At this point, though, when she is being showered with praise from around the world, social media is rife with comments on how the audience wants to see more of Hajra Yamin. That includes Indian writer, actress and producer Sutapa Sikdar, the widow of late Bollywood actor Irrfan Khan, who recently praised her performance in Doctor Bahu online, calling her “an underrated gem.”

“It’s all upwards from here,” I venture.

Hajra smiles knowingly, as if she’s seen the highs and lows, understood her worth and is ready to take on the future.

“There can be no other way,” she tells me.

The writer is a fashion and entertainment journalist with over two decades of experience.

She can be reached at maliharehman1@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 14th, 2026

Marwa was a ninth-grader. She excelled in her studies and helped her mum with everything, from household chores to babysitting her twin brothers. Her parents loved her dearly.

“Here, my dear, breakfast is ready,” her mum gently called out early one morning. “I have to leave for work early today. And you know, I cannot have breakfast without my best friend.”

Marwa blushed. “I know,” she said.

“I will prepare breakfast for the rest of the family before leaving. Baba will drop you off today.”

“I will make breakfast for them, Mama, you just focus on your work! I will take care of Baba and your monsters! Just leave everything to me.”

Mama smiled, her face radiant with happiness at receiving so much love and concern from her daughter. Marwa prepared breakfast, watered the plants, cleaned the kitchen and afterwards left for school with her father and little brothers.

At school, she was friends with everyone in the class. Her best friends were Dania, the prefect, and Rabia, a happy-go-lucky girl. It was the first lesson and they were waiting for their teacher when the campus in-charge, Miss Zoya, entered with an unfamiliar young lady.

“Assalamu Alaikum, dear girls!” Miss Zoya greeted the class. “Meet Miss Maryam, your new maths teacher.” Turning to the lady, she said, “The class is all yours,” and to the pupils, “Have a nice day, class!” Then Miss Zoya left.

Miss Maryam stepped closer to the desk and began, “Good morning, girls! I will give a little introduction before we start studying calculus. I have done my Master’s in mathematics. I am not a strict teacher unless you want me to be. I love maths. Now tell me about yourselves today. What is the one activity you are good at?”

“I ace at basketball,” Hamna whispered to Marwa, and she snickered. To her surprise, Miss Maryam noticed her.

“There, my child,” she said, pointing towards Marwa. “Tell us, what are you good at?”

Marwa stood up from the bench and fell silent. She began to panic. With trembling hands and feet, she tried to think of all the activities she did, but still failed to answer the question.

“No problem, seated,” said Miss Maryam.

“Okay, girls, tomorrow you will tell me the one thing you are best at. In one way or another, we are all good at something, and very often we do not realise it,” the maths teacher said, putting the class at ease.

The next day, after the lecture, Miss Maryam gave the class homework. After much murmuring, the girls finally gathered the courage to answer the question their maths teacher had asked the day before.

“Go ahead, girls!” Miss Maryam said.

One by one, the students started sharing what they were good at.

“I am very organised, ma’am! My mother loves this habit of mine.”

“Ma’am, I am very good at reading. I have got the skills.”

“I am very good at cooking. Everyone in my family and among my friends loves the meals I prepare.”

“I am good at maths too, ma’am!” uttered Rabia, standing beside Marwa, who was still seated at the back bench, trying to figure out what to say. “And I do not think it sounds arrogant.”

The class erupted in laughter. The bell rang, announcing that the period was over.

“Alright, girls. I am leaving. It was a wholesome conversation. Take care and see you all tomorrow,” said Miss Maryam, keeping in mind that Marwa had not participated, or perhaps had not wanted to. Marwa, on her part, was delighted that the class had finally ended.

The following week, on a fine Wednesday morning, Miss Zoya asked Marwa to meet her in the staff room. There, she informed Marwa that her friend Dania had food poisoning and would be on sick leave.

“Come forward, Marwa,” Miss Zoya said, holding up the prefect sash. “Now, if you please, will you take her place until she recovers?”

Without having a chance to think of an excuse, Marwa agreed.

During recess that same day, Rabia and Marwa were munching on their snacks when Marwa, now concerned about maintaining discipline in her prefect role, saw Bareea, her class fellow, bragging about her acrylic paints to a few girls. In a flash, Marwa rushed over.

“I hope everything is okay here?” Marwa asked concernedly.

“Nothing, Marwa! Please leave us alone,” Bareea said, sounding irritated. “Just tell them not to envy my painting skills and supplies.”

“And why would they?” Marwa asked.

“She says she has sold three paintings so far. We are amazed how someone can pay for abstract trash!” Minal said.

“Plus, she says that she buys acrylic paints every now and then and throws out the old ones quickly enough. Do you really think that asking about her passion should be considered envying her skills?” Aiman asked.

Marwa shook her head. “Why do you throw out the old ones? And where do you throw them?”

“In the dustbin, of course,” Bareea replied casually.

“Goodness me, you throw them away without emptying them!” Marwa said in shock. “Do you have any sense? Not disposing of acrylic paints properly can be very harmful.”

“How can it be?” Bareea asked.

“I read about it in a newspaper article. Environmentalists are talking about ways our planet can be saved. They listed several ways in which we can play our part. I learnt about living minimally and keeping only what is necessary. Declutter and donate unused items. They never said to dispose of them carelessly.”

“Why are you dragging it, Marwa? Get to the point!” Bareea said.

“Listen, Bareea, acrylic paint tubes, when not emptied properly, get thrown into the rubbish and add to hazardous waste. Just like toy cells or car batteries, unemptied paint tubes cannot simply be tossed away. You should harden the paint or let it dry first. If the paint is still in good condition, you can share it with people who need it. As responsible citizens, we should avoid harming the environment.”

Just then, recess was over and everyone went to their classes. However, the conversation had been overheard by Miss Maryam.

The next day, before class, Miss Maryam asked Marwa what else she did at home, along with her hobbies and interests. Marwa disclosed that she loved reading, watching documentaries, helping her mum with chores, taking care of her kitten, looking after her younger brothers and playing chess with her father on weekends.

“That is amazing and productive too,” said Miss Maryam.

The weeks passed by. Dania returned to school refreshed after ten long days. Marwa’s prefect duties had revealed her social, moral and surprisingly environmental responsibilities. Miss Maryam congratulated Dania on her recovery and Marwa on her guidance and supervision.

Just then, Miss Zoya came into the class. It took place that she had awarded Marwa a certificate for demonstrating excellent leadership skills and having a proactive stance towards protecting the planet. The whole class gave her a big round of applause.

Miss Maryam addressed the class, “I remember the very first lecture when I asked Marwa what she was good at, and she remained silent. Fast forward to today, and I can now confidently say that she is indeed very good at fulfilling her responsibilities.”

This was followed by another loud round of applause. Dania and Rabia cheered at the top of their lungs.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026

The interface of the website is clean, with basic settings given in the left panel; while the right side panel has four basic elements such as fire, water, earth and air. The centre of the home screen is your workspace; this is where you drag an element from the right panel, drop it and put another in it to create something new. So with these four basic elements, you’re supposed to eventually discover over 720 items like mud, steam, life, explosive, lava, house, animal, smoke, mist, humans, dams, the internet, zombies, unicorns, etc., to name a few. Yes, all of these are created by mixing one element into another.

The left panel, as said earlier, gives you access to the settings menu where you can turn music on or off, reset progress and check what you’ve already found. There’s a ‘hints’ button too, but it sends you to an external page, which is a bit off and I wouldn’t recommend opting for hints, because the fun hides in creating elements on your own.

The good thing about the site is that the experiments are not time-bound, and there are no ads either. You can take your time as long as you want. So once you start mixing one element into another, for instance, fire into water, you create steam. Adding earth to steam makes a geyser, or combining two of the same elements, like air with air, creates pressure. Thus, the more you mix and create, the more curious you become. Some combinations follow real-world logic; some are just weird and creative.

I have concluded that the site is educational but also creative — it’s addictive; even adults won’t close it anytime soon, because the thirst to create something new keeps you experimenting.

Let your curiosity loose on Little Alchemy 2 and start mixing; you will not run out of things to discover.

Visit: https://littlealchemy2.com/

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026

A long break from school is exciting, but how you spend it matters. Explore ways to use your holidays for fun, growth and memorable experiences

Once again, it is that time of the year when students get ample time off from their respective educational institutions in the form of summer vacation. This almost two-month long break, should be viewed not only as a break from studies but also as an opportunity to pursue some academic, recreational and extracurricular activities that are difficult to fit into routine academic life.

It is natural to have varying priorities for the summer break. Some may want to take a few new courses, while others may prefer to address their shortcomings in different subjects, instead of learning something new. Therefore, only general outlines of the many activities that can be undertaken during the summer break are mentioned in the following paragraphs. Whatever you do, keep one principle in mind: make the most of this time.

When going out for an outing

During school days, students mostly leave their homes only to go to school, academies, a nearby playground or the market. Naturally, such a routine can become monotonous and boring. With this long break, you can plan outings with your friends and family.

There are many places to visit, but most people prefer travelling to the beautiful northern areas of Pakistan. Here, it is important to remember that the monsoon season is expected soon, and the risk of landslides and flash floods will increase in many northern regions of the country. So, plan accordingly.

Since it is already very hot in most parts of Pakistan, whether you are planning an outing within the city or elsewhere, make sure you keep everything you need with you. Dehydration and exhaustion caused by high temperatures can make you seriously ill and ruin your holidays.

Spend time with family

Summer break is an ideal time to cherish the many relationships we have. For this purpose, you need not travel long distances or spend a lot of money. Simply watching a TV show together, dining out, playing an indoor or outdoor game, or taking a short trip to a nearby spot can serve the purpose.

Summer break should never be an entirely individual experience; rather, it should be a collective one. Your younger siblings will also be enjoying time off from school, and your parents will likely take some time out to fulfil your requests. Instead of enjoying the break on your own while your siblings and parents see no difference in the time you spend with them, make them feel involved in your summer activities.

Physical and mental health comes first

Throughout the year, frequent tests, assignments, homework and final exams do not leave much time to focus on one’s overall health. Use this time as an opportunity to engage in physical fitness activities such as running, jogging, aerobic exercises and yoga. Teenagers often join gyms to build muscle, but if this is not done under proper guidance, it can negatively affect their overall physical health.

Another point that needs to be strongly emphasised is that, even though it is your break time, you should get proper sleep and limit your screen time. Both are important not only for physical health, but also for mental well-being. Going off your usual routine is fine, but make sure you are not straining your eyes or taking sleep for granted.

Don’t let go of your studies altogether

Although one academic year has ended and the next has not yet started in most educational institutions, it is never wise to completely distance yourself from studies. Buying the books for the next academic year in advance and skimming through a few pages of each, can help you perform better when classes begin.

Even if you do not want to read course books during the summer break, you can explore the countless courses available on the internet on a wide range of topics and for all levels.

Indulge in your hobbies

Most of us have something in mind — a desire, a goal or an interest that we could not give enough time to during the year. So, do not leave them pending. If you want to read, start reading; do not wait for the perfect time.

Perhaps you have always wanted to excel at a board game; get it and start playing. Similarly, whether it is writing, painting or drawing, do not just keep thinking about it — start now.

The vacation will end in just a few weeks. You have the time to spend it wisely and do all that you have been putting off.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026

Lai Ka-ying’s historic space mission on the Shenzhou-23 mission has triggered a sharp rise in interest in aerospace education across Hong Kong.

A learning centre reported inquiries for courses in satellite design and space science have more than tripled, especially among students aged three to 17. Fees range from about HK300toHK650 per hour.

Education providers and industry leaders are now pushing for dedicated aerospace learning hubs, suggesting schools, cruise terminals and unused facilities could be turned into immersive space education centres. The goal is to build long-term programmes that include satellite systems, rockets and hands-on STEM training.

Officials and educators also say Hong Kong should align its development with China’s wider aerospace strategy, expand STEM curriculum links and create stronger pathways into research and industry opportunities.

Harry Styles voices support for Palestinians

Harry Styles signalled his support for the Palestinian people during the kick-off weekend of his Together, Together tour in Amsterdam.

In a video posted online, the same day the pop star played the second of 10 total shows at Johan Cruyff Arena, a fan in the crowd yells, “Viva Palestina!” The shouting fan visibly draws Styles’ attention. In response, he says decisively, “Correct.” With just one word, the singer has made it clear how he feels about the conflict in the Middle East, which reached a boiling point in 2023.

Aqua breaks up after 30 years

Aqua has announced they are splitting up, saying it feels like “the right moment to say goodbye.”

The group became globally famous with the 1997 hit “Barbie Girl,” one of the UK’s best-selling singles ever, along with chart-toppers “Doctor Jones” and “Turn Back Time.”

In a statement, the band thanked fans for supporting them over the past three decades, saying they wanted to end things while “the love for the music” remained strong. Aqua sold around 33 million records and became one of the most successful bands of its time.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026

A South Korean man could face up to five years in prison after posting an AI-generated image showing a wolf roaming the streets of Daejeon.

The realistic image appeared online after reports emerged that a wolf named Neukgu had escaped from a local zoo. The fake image misled emergency teams and delayed the wolf’s capture by up to nine days. Fearing the animal was moving through the city, officials closed primary schools and deployed police and firefighters to search urban areas. The wolf was later found on the outskirts of Daejeon.

The 40-year-old man said he created the image “for fun”. He now risks prison time and a fine for spreading misleading AI-generated content.

Knight Rider replica gets speeding ticket

An Illinois museum received a speeding ticket from New York City after a traffic camera allegedly caught its replica KITT car from the TV show Knight Rider speeding in Brooklyn.

Volo Museum said the 1982 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am replica has not been driven on public roads for more than a decade. Marketing director Jim Wojdyla said the plate is only a novelty item sold in the museum gift shop. The traffic camera photo showed a car with the same “KNIGHT” novelty plate displayed on the museum vehicle.

New York City officials later confirmed the ticket was issued by mistake and would be dismissed.

Penthouse sells for over $500 million

A luxury penthouse in Monaco has become the world’s most expensive apartment after selling for 471 million pounds ($554 million).

The five-floor, 21-room residence is located in the Le Renzo development and was bought by System Capital Management, owned by Ukrainian businessman Rinat Akhmetov. The 26,900-square-foot penthouse includes terraces overlooking the Mediterranean, a private pool and Jacuzzi, smart home technology and eight parking spaces.

Zigzag mountain road challenges drivers

Lingpaishi Road, also known as Wuxi’s Token Stone Road, is one of China’s most dangerous-looking roads, featuring 18 sharp hairpin turns along a steep mountainside in Wuxi County.

The narrow 3.7-kilometre road connects the small Tian Ping Community to the outside world, with its steepest slopes reaching a 36 per cent gradient. Drivers must move slowly and carefully, especially on the 453-metre zigzag section where turning back is nearly impossible.

Built in 2012 and paved in 2019, the road is closed to trucks, buses and large caravans because of its tight curves and limited space. Officials recommend navigating the steep section only in first gear.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026

Little Travellers’ Landmarks of the World is an activity book that not only takes you around the world but also helps you discover a side of it you weren’t aware of.

Packed with puzzles, doodles, quizzes and over 300 stickers, this book will take you around the world in no time. Not only is it loaded with boredom-busting activities, but it will also keep you and your friends off their screens and entertained during the holidays.

The book is a treasure trove if you are looking for landmarks associated with some of the world’s major countries. It begins with a map of the entire world on a double spread, highlighting which region is home to each landmark. If you find familiar names such as the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, Mount Rushmore, the Pyramids and the Sphinx, you are on the right track.

Each continent is then described through its landmarks — North America has Yosemite National Park and Mount Rushmore, South America has Machu Picchu, Europe has its towers, and so on — gradually developing the readers’ interest.

Since playing is the best form of learning, the book has information laced throughout its sidebars that you can absorb as you go or revisit later. From completing a sticker puzzle of Mount Fuji to finishing the second half of the Taj Mahal, this book caters to your inquisitive side by offering smart, offline activities.

Trust me, you will forget about your tablet or iPad once you are into this book, solving puzzles like completing names and answering the quiz. And if you have a little traveller in you, you will memorise the many landmarks in this book for future reference, so when you are old enough to travel, you will have the edge over your friends.

And if the high-resolution images of the seven natural wonders of the world, including the Grand Canyon, the Great Barrier Reef, Mount Everest and others, don’t excite you, the details about the Sahara Desert, the Nile River, the Pyramids and Victoria Falls in Africa will.

I would suggest you read the section on the Americas carefully, as that’s where the FIFA World Cup is being held. Some of the cities where the games are being played are home to these landmarks, so when one appears on screen, you can impress your friends and family by identifying it before they do.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026

Culture is not just about what we wear or celebrate; it is a whole perspective of life. It is a set of principles we mould our lives around; a system of beliefs that differentiates us.

Culture is a feeling, an expression and a way of seeing life from your own perspective. What is even more important is that for Muslim societies, it is a map that connects us to our Creator. Faith is inseparable from our culture; our events, principles and beliefs revolve around Divine consciousness. And so, our efforts to preserve our culture are a means to preserve our spiritual consciousness. It is our identity, and when the essence fades, identity blurs!

This age of globalisation has brought up trends that are leading us to a stage where we are all imitating each other in a constant race, without realising the uniqueness that our own cultures offer us. In today’s world, we witness the West’s cultural dominance in our societies. We have imported their lifestyles and values. What is needed is integration, not imitation, the idea of being unique while celebrating and respecting others without losing ourselves. Progress does not require imitation.

Life will look a lot more colourful if we understand this simple principle: to live by your culture is not about rejecting others. Staying true to one’s roots is an act of courage in a world that constantly tells us to blend in.

When a nation forgets its culture, it forgets the rhythm of its own heartbeat

Language, too, plays a vital role in portraying our identity and preserving our culture. Every language is a reservoir of wisdom and grace. It is not just words or a way of communication, but a way to keep alive the echo of our ancestors’ dreams, a lens through which people understand each other, a medium to exchange our ideas and sentiments, and a bridge that connects different cultures.

Urdu, for instance, binds Pakistan’s diverse ethnic groups with its poetry, softness and depth.

Preserving the architecture, calligraphy and literature of a nation is another certain step if we desire to preserve our heritage in this modern world. Every carved stone and every verse etched in calligraphy carries the legacy of centuries and the struggles of our ancestors. That is why, whenever places like the ancient mosques of Lahore, the intricate blue mosaics of Thatta or ancient sites in Karachi are visited, people not only see the buildings, but they see their identity, the craftsmanship and the devotion of our ancestors.

We can look to Türkiye for inspiration as well. It has gracefully revived Ottoman art and architecture in modern designs. Their mosques, museums and cityscapes carry a sense of identity that feels timeless, not outdated. In short, art and architecture are the anchors that keep us from drifting in the waves of globalisation.

Another key point to consider while discussing the preservation of our heritage is the role of education. Our education system should be designed in a way that it not only teaches science and technology, but also cultivates cultural consciousness, inculcating a sense of identity in us and provoking enthusiasm among young individuals to learn about our heritage with equal passion.

The role of education is to teach us to look forward without losing sight of what lies behind. So, teaching young minds history, culture and literature, alongside biology, chemistry and physics, will lead them to become a generation who knows how to preserve ancient treasures, how to value their roots and how to embrace their identity.

Take the example of a tree: it strengthens its roots. New things keep growing on a tree — leaves, fruits, branches, twigs and whatnot — but the roots stay, allowing the tree to stand and face even the fiercest storms. Likewise, a nation must embrace technology and innovation without letting go of its cultural essence. Modernisation without identity creates imitation, not evolution.

To sum up, cultural revival begins with spiritual awakening. Therefore, the preservation of culture does not begin in museums or classrooms; it begins in the heart. When a nation’s heart remembers its Creator, everything else falls into place.

In the end, in a world rushing to look the same, the truest form of advancement is the courage to remain yourself.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026

This requires extra effort and utensils, which we don’t always want to be bothered with.

So, for those times when you are craving a rich chocolate dessert but don’t want to make an entire cake, here is a recipe for a single-serving chocolate lava pudding. With a delicate crackly top and a soft, gooey centre, it comes together with just a handful of ingredients.

Serve it warm with a scoop of ice cream to make it even more delicious.

Ingredients

• 42g butter

• 55g sugar

• 1 egg

• 24g cocoa powder

• 18g flour

• ½ teaspoon vanilla essence

• ½ teaspoon Espresso powder

Method

Preheat the oven to 160°C.

Melt the butter in a small bowl and set aside to cool slightly. In an oven-safe ramekin, whisk together the egg and sugar until the mixture becomes light and slightly fluffy.

Add the vanilla essence and cooled melted butter, and mix well. Sift in the cocoa powder and flour. Add the espresso powder and stir until the batter is smooth and well combined.

Place the ramekin on a baking tray. Carefully pour hot water into the tray until it reaches about

halfway up the sides of the ramekin to create a water bath. This helps the pudding develop a crackly crust while keeping the centre soft and gooey.

Bake for 30–35 minutes, or until the top is set but a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out with a little batter attached.

Turn off the oven and leave the pudding inside for 2–3 minutes with the door slightly open.

Remove from the oven and allow it to cool for a few minutes.

Serve warm with a scoop of ice cream and enjoy.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 13th, 2026