Jus’ Gistin’
By Imran Sheikh
Self-published
ISBN: 978-969-23922-1-1
pp. 150

It was about two years ago that I reviewed a book with the intriguing title The Past is Another Country for these pages. Authored by Imran Sheikh, it was a slim volume, comprising a series of episodes from his life while growing up in Pakistan and, later, working overseas. They were snapshots of a bygone era, recounted with incomparable charm and enthusiasm.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book — it had a wonderfully upbeat rhythm, and fluctuated back and forth between funny and downright hilarious. There was a distinct old-school P.G. Wodehouse inspiration at work, along with occasional chapters that hinted at the deeper truths of life. My only complaint at that time was that the book, clocking in at just over 100 pages, was too short. The sojourn was over much too soon and the reader was left with a palpable sense of disappointment.

After the book review came out, I was fortunate enough to talk to Sheikh a couple of times on the phone, and I strongly urged him to write a follow-up. He chuckled at the time, and said that he had written the book in support of a charitable venture and, while he appreciated the suggestion, he was much too busy for a serious project like that again.

It was, therefore, a wonderfully pleasant surprise when recently, out of the blue, I received a message from him that not only has a follow-up already been written but, even better, would I be able to review it? My answer, of course, was in the affirmative. The book, Jus’ Gistin’ arrived in the mail a few days later.

A follow-up to one man’s recounting of whimsical stories from his life retains the original’s wit and nostalgic narration of an era gone by

The title was a headscratcher. I imagined that the word ‘Gistin’’ meant to get to the root of something, the essence, the ‘gist’. But not so. Sheikh traces its origins to Nigeria — he has several adventures in that country, described in the book — where ‘gistin’’ refers to casual conversation, to gossip. He elaborates: “When I first heard the word ‘gistin’’, I asked a Nigerian friend what it meant. He looked at me in surprise and said, ‘It be yabbin’ back hand ‘bout dis ‘n’ dat.’ Of course, it is, and it served me right for asking!

In the context of this book, jus’ gistin’ might as well be a spin on ‘just jesting.’ I recall the first book had hooked me with the cautionary warning on the blurb: “If you have picked this book up looking for good advice, or wisdom of any kind, put it down immediately. It offers none.” And then the unforgettable opening lines: “A Persian proverb, roughly translated, says: ‘It is better to be a dog than a younger brother.’ My sister had both.”

This book follows in the tradition — on the back cover Sheikh declaims with signature wit: “After The Past is Another Country, I swore I would never write another book. This is that book.”

Jus’ Gistin’ repeats the winning formula of its predecessor. It is a slim and compact volume, comprising a series of episodes drawn from the author’s own life, briskly narrated with a twinkle in the eye and a balance of wit, wisdom and alacrity, which comes across as entirely natural. The stories again range across all walks of life up to the present day.

Sheikh calls upon childhood memories to walk us through the rituals and associated drama of Pakistani family weddings, the myriad politics of neighbourhood cricket, and the complex intricacies of kite warfare during Basant. As a young man, he documents the nail-biting suspense of tracking horse races at Jail Road and the vagaries of romance and courtship.

In England during his studies, he plays county cricket, busks on London trains and wrestles with racist white men. With a professional engineering degree, he works on large-scale industrial projects in Pakistan and in Africa, rubbing shoulders with diplomats and politicians as well as workers in the field. As a father, he takes his children hiking in Pakistan’s northern areas. Adventures abound, every story has a twist, a laugh and a message.

As before, there is a riotous cast of characters in these pages: leading the lot is Gama, the hulking village pehlwan [bodybuilder/wrestler] who later changes careers to become a tactless chauffeur. There is Gogi, the invincible squash player. We have the heartbroken cousin who haunts his beloved’s wedding and a nameless ‘expert’ who mentors the author and his friends at the horse races. There is Henry, the majordomo who fights snakes in Nigeria and many others.

The stories veer from the comical to the hilarious, occasionally changing gears to the sombre and tragic. There is the young assistant commissioner from Faisalabad, who faces a charged mob during the Partition riots. There are also encounters with the supernatural and the otherworldly.

In all of these stories, we see glimpses of a Pakistan that could have been, encapsulated moments, as if frozen in time, from a past which seems tantalisingly close even as it hovers infinitely distant from us. Sheikh turns a contemplative eye in several of these stories, even in the humorous ones, and there is a deeper subtext in there. We get a sense of kinder and gentler times, of alternate realities, of what Pakistan could have been, before everything fell apart.

But even in these stories, if one reads between the lines, one can discern hints of Pakistan’s fall from grace. There are signs of a slow yet certain decline: increasing religious intolerance, tribal rivalries, a general apathy and more. The chapters on African countries, particularly Nigeria, speak of typical Third-World problems, of elite capture, decadence, opulence, bureaucratic mismanagement and petty politics. These accounts are startlingly familiar — recounting events from decades past on distant shores, these stories would fit right in place in the pages of our own local papers today.

This book is the perfect companion to The Past is Another Country. It is more of the same, and that is exactly what we had been asking for. Sheikh has tapped into a rich vein of nostalgia, which he mines masterfully with effortless ease. The only complaint I would have, again, is the old one: at 150 pages, this book is only slightly bigger than its predecessor and, again, it is over before one realises it.

The logical thing to do, of course, is to request one more instalment — a third and final volume, to make things complete. A trilogy, a record of a life well lived and shared.

The reviewer teaches at the NUST School of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, Islamabad.

He can be reached at taha.ali@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, January 25th, 2026