Fasana Badosh
By Akhlaq Ahmad
Sang-e-Meel
ISBN: 978-969-35-3712-3
466pp.

Since the birth of literature, cities have figured prominently as metaphorical characters in fiction. They draw the jaded and the dreamer, the insider and the outsider, the opportunist and the altruist. And even though they are fixed in terms of their hierarchies, they depend on — and foster — social mobility.

Besides being a journalist, Akhlaq Ahmad is a prolific short story writer. His Urdu stories have appeared in major literary magazines in Pakistan and India. He has also translated hundreds of short stories into Urdu for many magazines, including the famous Sabrang digest.

Fasana Badosh [Tale Wanderer] is a new collection of 24 short stories by Ahmad, in which he treats Karachi as a character with its own personality. His deep affection for Karachi is unmistakably woven into the fabric of his stories. These narratives predominantly feature individuals from diverse linguistic communities, yet they are united by their lives in the same vibrant metropolis.

Whether it’s the warmth of a greeting exchanged on a bustling street or the spontaneous joy upon seeing a friend after a long absence, these experiences are universally understood, transcending ethnic or dialectical differences.

A gripping collection of Urdu short stories feature Karachi as a vibrant metropolis in which individuals from diverse communities are united through their lives

In the story ‘Gutka’, a dynamic scene unfolds in Murree, a city far from Karachi. A person, caught up in the immediate present, suddenly spots a face from their distant past — a long-lost friend. In a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, all semblance of decorum vanishes. Manners are forgotten as the individuals rush forward, their excitement erupting in a flurry of enthusiastic kicks and punches, accompanied by the loud, familiar call of the friend’s nickname, Gutka!

This raw, boisterous greeting speaks volumes about the depth and history of their bond. The name ‘Gutka’ itself, while referring to a specific cultural item made of areca nuts and chewing tobacco, encapsulates the unique intimacy shared between the two individuals. The very act of using such an informal, perhaps even crude, moniker — and shouting it with such abandon — underscores a friendship forged in shared experiences and comfortable familiarity, where societal niceties are replaced by effusive, genuine affection. It signifies a relationship so solid, so personal, that such a greeting becomes a triumphant declaration of enduring connection.

Ahmad’s ability to capture the essence of a place is remarkable. Specific mentions of familiar road names, the vibrant hum of bustling thoroughfares, or even the stark descriptions of collectively endured harsh weather, resonate far beyond mere observation.

These details act as powerful anchors, drawing the reader back to their own lived experiences. It’s as if the author has tapped into a collective memory, articulating sentiments that the reader himself or herself has cherished — or perhaps wrestled with — about their own native city. This shared understanding fosters a sense of belonging and validation, reminding us that personal connections to our urban environment are part of a larger, shared human narrative.

The story ‘Baara Joker’ [Twelve Jokers] revolves around a disturbing undercurrent that often ripples beneath the surface of middle-class life, punctuated by unsettling acts that have become alarmingly normalised. Among these is the quiet vanishing of men, often spirited away under the cloak of night. These disappearances occur without explanation — no stated reason, no identified captors and no clear authority cited. The sheer abruptness leaves families reeling, utterly devoid of information about their loved ones’ fate. What follows is a poignant, almost surreal, period of hushed uncertainty for the neighbourhood.

Despite the palpable gravity of the situation, people often continue with their daily routines, caught between a shared, unspoken understanding of a serious crisis and the gnawing absence of concrete facts. In this delicate balance, some offer genuine solace and support to the affected families, while others, sadly, seize upon the vulnerability to exploit the situation. This complex interplay of fear, resilience and opportunistic behaviour paints a stark, yet increasingly common, portrait of life in contemporary Karachi, where the extraordinary has, regrettably, become an everyday narrative.

Amidst the kaleidoscope of distant lands and unfamiliar horizons, the writer found an unexpected anchor: a face from the past. In the story, ‘Kami Harami’ [Kami the Rascal], this chance encounter, a ghost from memory that surfaces in a bustling borough market of London, serves as the catalyst for a deeply personal narrative. The story that unfolds isn’t just a reunion, but a poignant exploration of a cherished friendship and the abrupt departure of a dear companion.

With the practised hand of a storyteller, the writer delves into the circumstances that led to Kami’s expatriation. This isn’t a simple journey abroad: it is an exit, a severing of ties that beg for understanding. In the bustling yet often harsh environment of Karachi, a labour union worker, nicknamed Kami Harami, finds himself embroiled in a fierce battle for justice. His conviction lies in championing the rights of a widow, ensuring that she receives her rightful dues. This principled stand, however, was perceived as a direct challenge by a powerful local business owner, who wields considerable influence. The confrontation escalated, leading to a scandal that deeply affected the owner.

Facing repercussions that threatened his safety and freedom, the protagonist was ultimately forced to abandon his life in the city and flee Karachi. This isolated incident is, tragically, far from uncommon in the region. It vividly illustrates a systemic issue, where influential figures frequently weaponise the police force against their workers.

False cases are a common tactic, designed to instil fear and maintain control. In severe instances, like the one depicted, the pressure and persecution become so unbearable that the victims are left with no recourse other than to seek refuge beyond the country’s borders, leaving behind their homes and livelihoods, due to the unchecked power of those at the top.

Demonstrating Ahmad’s extensive background as a journalist, certain narratives within this collection stand as compelling testaments to his seasoned experience. One particular story, ‘Ooncha, Lamba, Tanha Sardar’ [The Lofty, Tall, Lonely Chief], vividly recounts the life of a formidable protagonist, a man whose roots are deeply embedded within one of the nation’s most recognised ethnic communities. The narrative meticulously details the Sardar’s strategic choices, charting his ambitious ascent to prominence in the country’s political landscape.

The account highlights not just the struggles and triumphs of the Sardar’s career, but crucially, the principles that guide his actions. As the protagonist reaches his twilight years, the story illustrates a remarkable and voluntary transition of power. He willingly cedes his esteemed position to his son, a decision explicitly framed within the established customs and socio-cultural norms that govern their community. This resolution offers a nuanced portrayal of legacy, leadership and the enduring influence of tradition, all filtered through the lens of journalistic observation and storytelling acumen.

The stories in this collection should appeal not only to the people of Karachi but also to those who like to explore narratives with multiple viewpoints from different backgrounds.

The reviewer writes short fiction in Urdu and is currently working on her first novel

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, April 12th, 2026