Seasons of Silence, an 87-page-long e-book published by Indireads, is the debut novella of Mamun M. Adil. It’s a light, romantic story of an idealist-turned-bitter journalist Nadeem from Karachi. The only child of a failed marriage, the protagonist realises that his own marriage is on the verge of collapse and that he can no longer drown his sorrows in alcohol and extra-marital affairs.

Nadeem found sanctuary and companionship in books as a child and later in writing. It was only when he went to New York for his undergraduate degree that he “came out of his shell” and made friends. Fate, however, brought him to Karachi against all his plans. The tragedy of his life is not only that he doesn’t know how his career and marriage came to fail so miserably, but the numb indifference with which he sees his own life. The chapters alternate between Nadeem’s past life in New York, full of hopes and dreams, and his depressing existence in Karachi.

Thematically, we encounter the all-too-familiar preoccupations of the liberal class in Pakistan: being forced to lead a begrudging life in Pakistan when they believe they are closer to Western culture at heart. However, the writer intricately shows his readers how a maddening city like Karachi can grow on you with time, with such undetectable progress that you realise it only when you have become utterly dependent on the mad rush. Thus, Nadeem feels that “like the city’s noisy traffic, his life too, was noisy.” New York, on the hand, was “the city of dreams” for him with “the hustle and bustle. The energy. The many bars and restaurants that lit up the streets. The celestial city where every dream would come true.”

Love and relationships, however, get entangled with this crisis of ideology and belonging. Regrets of his past decisions and a wish to reshape what has already come to pass punctuate Nadeem’s musings on life: “Sometimes he wished he could change his life, not relive his twenties, but live them in another way. Make the choices he wanted to, instead of the ones he thought would make him happy.”

Yet Nadeem cannot take any definite action when it comes to his marriage. Despite his unhappiness, he admits that his wife Mehreen’s affection in the past “gave him the feeling that someone needed, wanted and loved him; it was then that he experienced the satisfaction that giving a mere hug could bring.” It was this very human feeling of intimacy that made him value his friends in New York when, as a fresh graduate, he envisioned his future self to be surrounded by friends with “plenty of laughter, and plenty of comfortable silences.”

This desire for companionship, understanding and intimacy still haunts him, even though he tries his best to believe himself an unfeeling creature, even though he and Mehreen are “resigned to live together as strangers, aware of each other’s existence but not each other’s feelings.”

With quite a predictable narrative structure, the story could have been more engaging if the writer had delved deeper into the main characters. Sadly, most of the chapters seem to be rushed or focused only on a few dialogues with no descriptions of the surroundings. Take for example a scene at Café Flo, which failed to describe the place or other people in the party and was limited to the short conversations and musings of a couple of characters. But quite refreshingly, the writer chooses to stay focused on the private life of his characters instead of rambling on about 9/11.

Female characters in Seasons of Silence, however, are mostly one-dimensional stereotypes often reduced to their sexual appeal (Nadeem describes one woman as “sexy librarian type”) or material motives (as in the case of Mehreen’s sister and Nadeem’s old New York love, Sarah). Nadeem is a soft amalgam of hopeless romanticism and selfish chauvinism.

The writer’s description of Karachi and its life are perhaps the best part of this book: “His own madness mirrored the city’s. Despite his every attempt to leave, the city was becoming him, and he was becoming part of it.”

Seasons of Silence
(NOVEL)
Mamun M. Adil
Indireads
87pp.