[This piece compares a modern tragedy in Sindh, Pakistan, to the mythological fall of Troy, highlighting the persistence of patriarchal violence in response to romantic choice. The essay argues that such acts of mob violence reflect a profound fear of individual freedom and calls for a shift in societal mindset to embrace love over tribal honor.]

By: Raphic Burdo

Every Sidra is Helen of Troy; every Hassan is Paris. Times, names, and places change, but love and its side effects remain the same.

A few thousand years ago, a woman looked at a man, or perhaps a man looked at a woman, and the world caught fire. We call her Helen of Troy. We read her story in leather-bound books and analyze her tragedy in quiet university halls. We treat the burning of Troy as a distant fable, a cautionary tale of ancient kings, divine whims, and “a face that launched a thousand ships and burned the topless towers of Ilium.” We comfort ourselves with the fiction that such brutal, consuming intolerance belongs strictly to the dark mists of mythology.

Then, the smoke rises from Mirpur Buriro in the Jacobabad district of Sindh.

A few days ago, in a quiet village near Mirpur Buriro, Thul, Jacobabad, Sindh, the sky turned a bruised, terrible black. A young man and a young woman from different communities made a choice. They chose love. They chose each other. In the quiet sanctity of a court, away from the heavy gaze of tribal elders, they signed their names to a promise. They released a video, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of a phone screen, pleading for nothing more than the right to exist together.

The response from the world they left behind was not a blessing, but a curse. A mob descended on the young man’s village. Over one hundred homes built with the sweat of generations, mud walls and thatched roofs that kept out the blistering north Sindh sun, were reduced to ashes. The bleating of trapped livestock, the screams of children, the begging of women and the elderly, the crackle of burning thatch; this was the cost levied by a society that cannot tolerate the sovereign choice of two young hearts.

How strange, and how terrifying, that the geography of human intolerance remains entirely unchanged across millennia. The Aegean Sea and the plains of Sindh are separated by continents and eras, with only the dim memory of Alexander’s march towards this region long, long ago to connect them, yet they are mapped by the exact same boundaries of patriarchal pride. In both worlds, a woman’s heart is treated not as a living, breathing entity, but as communal property. To love outside the dictated boundary is not viewed as an act of human freedom; it is branded as an act of treachery.

Love terrifies the collective mind very deeply. Because true love, by its very nature, is an act of rebellion. It is a quiet, singular declaration that says: I am an individual. My life belongs to me, and my devotion cannot be legislated by tribal bloodlines or ancient prejudices. It is the ultimate expression of personal freedom. And it is precisely this freedom that a rigid, intolerant society fears the most.

When mobs burn hundreds of homes because two people love each other, they are not protecting “honour.” They are masking a profound, fragile cowardice. They are burning down the future because they are terrified of a world where individuals possess the power to choose their own destiny.

Today, scores of innocent families are sleeping under the open, unforgiving sky in the cursed village of Jacobabad. Their possessions are gone. Their memories are charred ruins. They are paying the price for a romance they did not write.

We must ask ourselves: how many more Troys must burn before we learn to celebrate the courage of love rather than punish it? When will we understand that a society’s true honor lies not in the forced obedience of its youth, but in its capacity for tolerance, kindness, and the protection of the vulnerable?

Mark my words, the change will not come from court orders or anti-terrorism laws alone. It must begin as a quiet revolution within our own minds. We must learn to see beauty, and not betrayal, in the act of two young people holding hands. Until we actively dismantle the scaffolding of tribal ego and cultivate an attitude that honors personal choice, the fires will keep burning.

The smoke from Mirpur Buriro in Jacobabad is a mirror. It forces us to look at the wreckage of our collective intolerance and realize that until love is free, none of us truly is.

Read: The Tragedy of Lost Human Potential

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Raphic Burdo is a student of Literature, Psychology, Public Policy and Entrepreneurship. He writes on the subjects where all four intersect.

The post Love in the Days of Tribal Wars first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Nazila Gultaj is a well-known Azerbaijani poetess, investigative journalist, translator, and writer, who by profession is a doctor and a laureate of the Presidential Award.

Interviewed by Jakhongir NOMOZOV

You are a poet, writer, translator, researcher, and also a doctor. First of all, I would like to ask: Is it harder to find a cure for a person’s illness, or to heal their heart with words?

That is an interesting question. A sick or suffering person’s soul is filled with pain and hopelessness. As the saying goes: there are words that can lift a mountain, and words that can bring it down. The most beautiful quality of a human being is the ability to heal sorrows with words. I have always tried to bring relief not only with the medicine I prescribe but also with words. The heart and the body are a single organism. If the specialist is knowledgeable, educated, and understands human psychology, then both tasks are easy. But if the specialist is weak, both are difficult—whether finding the right medicine or healing with words.

When you create poetry, which emotion dominates you most—excitement, longing, love, or wonder?

Certainly love. Without love, there is no wonder, no longing, and no astonishment. Love is the source of all our feelings.

You are loved both in the Azerbaijani and Turkish literary circles. If we compare the spirit of readers from these two brotherly nations, what differences do you see in their approach to poetry?

For many years, I have had close ties with the literary environment in brotherly Turkey. Just as in our country, there is also great interest in poetry and art there. That is a Turkish literary world, and this is too.

In your book “Rain Drips from My Hands”, words seem to breathe with nature. For you, is nature a source of inspiration, or does nature itself transform into poetry?

The source of inspiration in art and creativity—whether it comes from a human being or from nature—is beauty. As our immortal poet Hüseyn Cavid once said: “My God is beauty, my God is love.”

The theme of love is very strong in your poetry. Yet this love is not just the feeling between two hearts, but also love for homeland, for people, for nature, for humanity. In what form does love most often manifest in your heart?

Love arises from kinship and compassion. Yes, the concept of love, in my opinion, is a very broad notion. A person may even love a kitten that has lost its mother. In my heart, love takes the form of mercy and tenderness.

Entering the literary field as a woman poet requires both delicacy and courage. In your view, what are the greatest challenges faced by female writers?

Azerbaijan is a sufficiently tolerant country. Since ancient times, in Turkic tradition, the name of mother and woman has always been held in the highest regard. Women were deeply respected. Although certain religious influences in earlier times imposed restrictions on women, in the modern era, as we have returned to our Turkic roots, those restrictions have been lifted. In science, in culture, in literature, there are no obstacles for our women. The best example of this is our First Lady, Mekhriban Aliyeva. With her intellectual level, ability, manners, and style of dress, she is a role model for all women. These days mark her birthday, and I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate her on behalf of all the women of the Turkic world and to wish her success.

In your works, you delicately touch upon the mysteries of the human heart. Does being a doctor help you to understand the heart, or does writing poetry shed light on your medical practice?

My being a poet greatly influences my being a doctor, and my being a doctor greatly influences my poetry. I cannot imagine one without the other. A doctor is the poet of the body, of the physical being; and a poet is the doctor of the soul, of the heart. In my life, each completes the other.

In your poetry, images of rain, water, and flow often appear. Is there a voice or a trace from your personal life within these images?

I feel great joy when it rains. I am glad that all the trees, grass, flowers, animals, and birds, all those who suffer from thirst, can drink water. I can watch running streams for hours without getting tired. They soothe my feelings and my soul. Whatever is in my heart, I first confide it to the water. It is as if I write the words of my heart onto the water with my eyes. For me, water is a symbol of purity and cleansing.

You have introduced the literature of many Turkic peoples to Azerbaijani readers.

In 1990, when the borders opened, I turned toward the great Turkic world. I met poets in many cities of brotherly Turkey. My aim was to build a bridge of hearts between our peoples. I wanted to contribute to the development of our literary and cultural ties. I translated the books of many poets and writers, and they were published in Azerbaijan.

In your opinion, are these bridges built only for literature, or do they serve a greater meaning that unites the spirit of nations?

Within the framework of the “Journey of the Heart” project, I organized literary events. Together with my poet brother from Turkey, Coskun Karabulut, we held meetings not only in Turkey but also in other brotherly Turkic countries of Central Asia. We gained new friends. We poets and writers want peace and security in the world, and the absence of wars. We wish that no child is left without a father, no parent loses their child in wars. For this, we writers must unite. We must promote our culture and our literature.

You presented your first prose book, “Father of a Martyr,” to readers. Between prose and poetry, which do you feel closer to yourself—flying on the wings of feelings, or revealing the truths of life?

My poetry draws strength from the prose of life, and my prose draws strength from the poetry of life. In the novella “Father of a Martyr” I relied on long, many years of life experience and real events. If it does not sound immodest, I see the success of this novella in its lifelike quality. Incidentally, this novella became the first winner of the Yusif Samadoghlu Prize in this genre in Azerbaijan. I am grateful to everyone who supported me in this work, especially to Asad Jakhangir, head of the Artistic Translation and Literary Relations Center of the Writers’ Union of Azerbaijan, the editor of this novella, who wrote a major article about the work and who was a moral support to me in my formation as a prose writer.

You approach nature and animals with special affection. Some say that one who does not love animals cannot love people. What place does this affection hold in your life and creativity?

Humanity begins with love for animals. A person who does not love animals cannot truly be a person; if such a person exists, then they lack a conscience. They are entrusted to us by nature, by the Almighty Creator. As higher-conscious beings, we must protect them, care for them. This is one of our most sacred duties as humans. For years they have been exploited, and they continue to be exploited. We use their milk, wool, meat. It is good that in modern times, compassion toward animals is increasing. In some countries, even slaughtering them has been banned. Personally, if I had the chance, I would wholeheartedly agree not to eat meat. Stray domestic animals I see in the streets always hurt my heart; I give food and water to those I encounter. I believe that people’s care for animals should increase, as it enriches human feelings and strengthens respect among people. For the salvation of humanity lies in love and compassion.

For a poet, what is the greatest source of inspiration—divine love bestowed by God, the daily pains and joys of human beings, or the traces left by time?

The world exists in unity. I am a doctor. When there is dysfunction in any organ of the human body, the pathology of one organ affects the others, disrupting their function, because the human being is a single organism. The world, too, is a macro-human. There is harmony among its parts. The main task of literature is to see this harmony, to call people to this harmony, because the harmony of the universe is reflected in man. Nothing exists entirely on its own. Where there is joy, there will also be pain; where there is love, there will also be longing and tears. All feelings are for spiritual balance. Emotions shape the human being. The soul and the body of man unite in the divine love bestowed by God.

You have participated in many international literary festivals. In your view, does national spirit dominate world literature today, or is a global harmony felt more strongly?

Yes, I have participated in many international literary festivals. World literature, too, is built upon national roots. Without national spirit, there is no globalization. Everyone must know their national identity, their ancestry. If a person does not know their culture, their history, their literature, they cannot advance toward globalization. Our flag has three colors: one represents nationality, one represents globalism, and one represents our religious faith. We are heading toward the global world, but we take our national characteristics with us. A person without national characteristics becomes a foreign element, and that is a tragedy. It is like the tree with its roots, trunk, and fruit. If we compare globalization to the fruit of the tree, then nationality is its roots. Without drawing water from its roots, the tree cannot bear fruit. We are the trunk of the tree, the transmitters from generation to generation. Without national spirit, global harmony cannot be created.

Read: Love – The Foundation of Being

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Jakhongir NOMOZOV is a young poet and journalist from Uzbekistan. He is also a Member of the Union of Journalists of Azerbaijan and the World Young Turkic Writers Union.

The post All Emotions Spring From Love first appeared on Sindh Courier.

• Yet they all point to one truth: beauty in human action is not measured by scale, but by sincerity.

By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden

What does beauty mean in human action? Is it found in grand sacrifices, quiet gestures, or the unexpected kindness of strangers? For most people, the most beautiful thing someone has ever done is not necessarily about wealth or grandeur, but about timing, intention, and love. Sometimes it is as small as a hand extended during despair, or as life-changing as someone believing in us when no one else did. Acts of beauty are not measured in their material worth, but in how deeply they touch the human spirit.

The question, “What’s the most beautiful thing someone has ever done for you?”  has been asked across cultures, and the answers reveal not just personal stories, but universal truths about empathy, sacrifice, and humanity itself. This article explores those stories through themes of kindness, sacrifice, relationships, resilience, and memory, showing how beauty in human action is often born in simplicity but remembered forever.

Everyday Beauty: Small Gestures, Lasting Impact

Many people recall that the most beautiful things done for them were not grand, dramatic events, but simple acts of humanity.

One woman from Karachi recalled standing in line during a sweltering summer day at a government office when an elderly stranger handed her a bottle of cold water. “He had no reason to,” she said, “but in that moment, it felt like a blessing.” The water itself was small, but the thoughtfulness in unbearable heat stayed with her for years.

Psychologists note that small, everyday kindnesses carry immense psychological weight because they are unexpected and uncalculated. Unlike transactional exchanges, these gestures are freely given, and that freedom itself makes them beautiful.

Consider the case of a young student in Sweden who missed her last bus home after work. A stranger walked her halfway, ensuring she got into a safe taxi. She later said, “It wasn’t just about safety. It was about someone caring, when he could have walked away.”

Such examples show that everyday beauty lies in attentiveness in seeing another’s need and responding without expectation.

Sacrifice & Selflessness: When Others Give Up Something for You

Another powerful theme is sacrifice — when someone willingly gives up something valuable for another person’s sake.

One of history’s most moving examples is of Oskar Schindler, a German industrialist who risked his life and fortune to save more than 1,000 Jews during the Holocaust. To those survivors, the most beautiful thing anyone ever did was his courage to protect them in the darkest time.

On a personal level, countless stories emerge within families. A Pakistani villager once recounted how his mother sold her jewelry to fund his education, despite pressure from relatives to save it for her daughters’ weddings. That single sacrifice enabled him to become the first doctor in his village. For him, her act was the definition of beauty, love translated into a lifelong opportunity.

In sociology, this is described as altruistic beauty: when someone’s act not only helps in the moment but shapes the trajectory of another person’s life.

Love & Care: The Invisible Acts of Family and Friendship

Some of the most beautiful acts are those quietly done by loved ones, often unnoticed until much later.

A man in London recalled that his father, who worked long shifts as a taxi driver, used to secretly leave notes in his lunchbox when he was preparing for exams. “They were simple lines like ‘I believe in you’ or ‘Don’t give up.’ At the time, I rolled my eyes. Years later, I realized those notes carried me through.”

Similarly, friendships often reveal beauty through presence rather than material help. A case study from the United States describes a young woman diagnosed with depression who later credited her best friend with saving her life: “She sat with me in silence for hours, without trying to fix me. That was the most beautiful gift.”

Love expressed through patience, presence, and care often surpasses dramatic gestures. Beauty lies not in how much is given, but in how deeply it makes someone feel valued.

Strangers & Humanity: Kindness Without Expectation

There is something uniquely touching about kindness from strangers, perhaps because it is least expected.

In 2015, when refugees arrived in Europe from Syria, countless stories emerged of strangers welcoming them with food, blankets, and shelter. A Syrian man later told the BBC that when he first arrived in Germany, a woman handed his daughter a teddy bear. “She smiled and said, ‘She’s safe now.’ I will never forget her face.” For him, that teddy bear was the most beautiful act — not because of the object, but because of the reassurance behind it.

Even small, strangerly gestures can leave a permanent mark. In India, a young girl fainted on a crowded train platform. A group of bystanders lifted her onto a bench, brought her water, and stayed until she revived. Years later, she recalled, “I don’t know their names, but I still think about them every time I see a crowded station.”

Such acts show how beauty transcends relationships; it is not confined to family or friends but emerges whenever humanity sees itself in another.

Resilience in Hardship: Beauty Shines Brighter in Darkness

Acts of kindness and beauty often carry the most weight during hardship, whether personal or collective.

After the 2005 Kashmir earthquake, survivors told stories not just of aid organizations, but of ordinary neighbors who dug with their bare hands to rescue people from rubble. A boy recalled that his uncle carried him for six hours through collapsed terrain to reach medical help. “I don’t remember the pain. I remember his arms not letting me go.”

During the COVID-19 pandemic, countless people worldwide described neighbors delivering groceries to the elderly, doctors holding iPads for patients to say goodbye to loved ones, and volunteers sewing masks late into the night. In the words of one Italian nurse, “The most beautiful thing I saw was not my own sacrifice, but the people who sent us food with notes saying, ‘You are not alone.’”

In moments of collective crisis, beauty shines as resilience, solidarity, and courage.

Ripple Effect: How Beauty Inspires Beauty

A striking dimension of beautiful acts is how they inspire others. One small kindness can trigger a chain reaction.

An example comes from the U.S., where a “pay it forward” movement began when a woman in a coffee shop paid for the drink of the person behind her. The gesture spread for 11 hours, with hundreds of strangers continuing the chain. While the act itself was small, its ripple effect showed the contagious power of kindness.

Similarly, in Sindh, a teacher once waived fees for a struggling student. Years later, that student became a teacher himself and started waiving fees for poor students in his own class. When asked why, he said, “Because someone once believed I was worth more than money.”

Beauty, then, is not just in the single act; it is in how that act multiplies across time and people.

Memory & Legacy: How Beauty Lives On

Finally, the most beautiful acts often live not just in the moment, but in memory and legacy.

A woman in Bosnia recalled how, during the war in the 1990s, her grandmother would give her the last piece of bread, whispering, “You are the future.” Even decades later, with food abundant, that memory defines her understanding of love.

Philosophers suggest that beauty in human action becomes eternal when it shapes the memory and values of the receiver. Unlike material gifts that fade, acts of kindness embed themselves in identity.

For some, the most beautiful thing is ongoing, like parents who dedicate years to supporting their children’s dreams. For others, it is a fleeting stranger’s kindness remembered forever. In both cases, the legacy is the same: beauty outlives the act itself.

Conclusion

So, what is the most beautiful thing someone has ever done for you? The answers vary: a mother’s sacrifice, a stranger’s kindness, a friend’s presence, and a community’s resilience. Yet they all point to one truth: beauty in human action is not measured by scale, but by sincerity.

The most beautiful acts are those that see us in our moment of need, affirm our dignity, and remind us we are not alone. They are timeless not because they are perfect, but because they carry love, empathy, and courage into our lives.

In a world often overwhelmed by speed, conflict, and self-interest, remembering these acts teaches us that beauty is not rare. It is all around us, in strangers, in loved ones, in the simplest moments. And perhaps the greatest lesson is this: the most beautiful thing someone has ever done for us becomes the seed of the most beautiful thing we can do for someone else.

Read: Inner Dialogue: Journey to Self-Awareness

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Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to time. A frequent traveler, he also does podcast on YouTube with channel name: VASJE Podcast.

The post Grace in Action, Love in Return first appeared on Sindh Courier.

[Interview of the renowned Italian poet, writer, journalist, translator, and publisher, Maria Tesa Liuzzo — President of the “P. Benintende” Lyric-Drama Association and Editor-in-Chief of the literary magazine “LE MUSE.”]

Interviewed by Jakhongir NOMOZOV | Uzbekistan

— How do you evaluate freedom of expression in literature and art?

— Freedom of expression—the hallmark of a unified humanity—crumbles like snow, casting a shadow of flocked sheep. We must pity the youth: their critical faculties are often weak, even corrupted by inhuman reflections. As sociologist Franco Ferrarotti recently noted, “A people of frantic, over-informed idiots. Schools and society have lost authority; solidarity no longer exists.” Culture should be about sharing and uplifting—not racing for a throne. True poetry embraces the “last,” becoming the voice of emotion, courage, and justice. It embodies the beauty that must be revered, not dismantled. It must be a flower of nations, quenching the thirst for knowledge and standing proud. But reality differs—many lack an artistic spirit, behaving like beasts against nature, deaf, blind, and insensitive to the miracles of light. At the center are death merchants, idol money, exploitation, domination. Violent spiritual deaths multiply—soulless puppets who ignore the sky, stars, flowers, grass—ferocious beasts with dark consciences, hypocritical and diabolical. Their strategy hides in the unseen, where arrogance replaces humility and the dark side thrives. These impotent souls, void of knowledge, compassion, spirituality, justice, and honor, will never taste triumphant wonder. They are driven by envy, birthing vengeance—the only shield for the incapable.

— How do your philosophical views influence your work? What is the relationship between philosophy and literature?

— True truth and coherence flourish in clarity; where clarity fades, sacred elements of genuine writing betray themselves. Massive manipulation fractures society’s intellectual and historical body. Each work is shaped by the author’s conscience—a reflective autopsy of thoughts guided by sensitivity and knowledge. The philosopher, like a scientist of words, probes deeply. The writer dreams, imagines, sometimes borrows, reworks—often from current events, sometimes resulting in sterile phrases born of stress or anger. Too often, we see personal gain where human connection should be.

— How do you distinguish between a writer and a philosopher? How do you balance both roles?

— A philosopher studies life and history’s harsh lessons, akin to a sociologist. Today, writers spring up like mushrooms, lacking the tools for critical thought. Ignorance is nurtured for popularity rather than promoting revolutionary language, authenticity of faith, and genuine freedom.

— How do you view international literary relations? How has Italy’s literary dialogue influenced your work?

— Those with inner treasures transform raw material into beauty. They battle war, repressive laws, emotional coldness, and dogmatic materialism. They even resist spiritual darkness—Ariman blockading Lucifer—symbols of our moral decline.

— What opportunities does literary collaboration create?

— Opportunities today are rare—overshadowed by competition and ulterior motives. I have always walked alone, never needing crutches. I’ve written and published for 54 years, uninterested in superficial contests or commodifying my sacred art. Poetry must shock conscience, resonate with truth, serve faith and hope.

— What is your view on literary awards and recognition?

— To survive, one must be wise—nurturing unknown wisdom while consciousness is still scarce. Though I’ve received many awards, I accepted only those of importance—like the Culture Awards from the Prime Minister’s Office. I even declined ones with monetary value. If you are genuine, fame isn’t necessary—it cheapens your art.

— How have writers’ priorities changed? How might readership evolve?

— Quantity outweighs quality, pushing us into hostility and rivalry. Many lash out at those who express themselves freely and democratically.

— How do literature and poetry impact society beyond the page?

— Even the longest days end. Creative moments can be stopped—but we should build gardens, not walls. Don’t let Hermann Hesse’s prophecy from “The Last Summer of Klingsor” become reality. We live in decadent times. Einstein said: “True value lies in freeing oneself from the self”; Kant warned that excessive self-love is the root of evil. A serene spirit withstands criticism and falsehoods. Freedom lies not in power, but in uniting goodness, justice, and peace. We live in an age of spirit—remain true, unconditioned by circumstance or corruption. The pathological ego must be severed. Beyond fear, a smile and new knowledge in the form of love await. Love is our ontological seal. Zeros must not mistake themselves for heroes. They hide in illusions, unable to distinguish reality from fantasy. Their megalomania and hypocrisy make them dread the light—as bats dread daylight. We forgive children for fearing the dark; the tragedy lies in adults who never outgrow it.

— Why do you often talk about “conscience, truth, and justice”?

— Because these are what help humanity survive spiritually. Today, the word “conscience” is used often, but it no longer lives in reality. Truth has vanished, and lies have become part of society’s bloodstream. We read the great scholars of the past not to learn how they lived, but to remember how they were buried. That is a tragedy. A poet must be the primary guardian of truth.

— Do you see literature as a tool to fight against oppression and social injustice?

— Absolutely. If literature does not awaken the heart, then it is nothing more than paper and ink. A true poet cannot remain silent in the face of oppression. They must live within the people — in their pain, in their joy. Literature carries the weight of life and death, soul and body, darkness and light.

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Jakhongir NOMOZOV Is a young poet and journalist from Uzbekistan. He is also a Member of the Union of Journalists of Azerbaijan and the World Young Turkic Writers Union.

Read: Homeland Yearning Finds Voice in Verse

The post Love – The Foundation of Being first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ali Nawaz Rahimoo

Love has long been the muse behind humanity’s most profound expressions from timeless poetry to iconic architecture. But it is often loss, not joy that inspires the most enduring tributes. Throughout history, countless stories of grief have given birth to masterpieces, their beauty forever linked to the sorrow that shaped them. Without the story behind them, even the grandest monuments could be forgotten just another structure, just another song. Yet however, history is extensive with many tales where it is the tragedy behind the loss of a beloved which grants the inspired the will to give his muse a tangible manifestation. This has, throughout time, yielded innumerable sonnets, several paintings and some of the most remarkable structures the world has ever laid eyes upon. But where the artistry behind these symbols is revered in the pages of history, it is the story at their helm which separates them from any other work. Without the story, they could just be any other sonnet; any other painting; any other edifice consigned to oblivion. That’s why Shah Jehan’s Taj Mahal endures not merely for its marble majesty, but for the aching love it represents. And echoing that legacy, in the quiet desert town of Umerkot, Sindh, a humble man named Rasool Bux Palli has built his own version of the Taj Mahal not for an empire, but for his beloved wife Maryam.

From Umerkot, With Love

At 62, Rasool Bux Palli doesn’t claim to rival the Mughal emperor. “There’s no comparison between my Taj and the one in Agra,” he says. “But both were built to declare love.” Their story began in 1977, when 18-year-old Rasool married 39-year-old Maryam in an arranged marriage. The 21-year age gap raised eyebrows, but love quickly blossomed between them. “Back then, it was rare to see women outdoors. Still, every weekend, we would sneak away to Hyderabad to watch movies,” he fondly remembers.

But Maryam brought more than companionship. “Before her, I was a lost soul broke, addicted to drugs, wandering aimlessly. She saved me,” he confesses. With her emotional and financial support including 250 acres of inherited farmland Rasool turned his life around. He gave up addiction, earned degrees in political science and law, and found purpose.

Together, they lived a modest but beautiful life until 2015, when Maryam died of a heart attack. “We had 40 wonderful years,” Rasool says, his voice trembling. “And in a moment, it was gone. I didn’t know how to cope until I remembered a dream.”

A Dream, and a Promise

In 1980, the couple had visited the original Taj Mahal in Agra. Sitting in its garden, they had marveled at the grandeur and the love story it held. “We talked for hours about Shah Jehan and Mumtaz,” Rasool recalls. “Little did we know that their story would someday echo in ours.”

After Maryam’s burial in Rasool’s family graveyard, the dream became a mission to build his own tribute on her grave, just as Shah Jehan had done.

Building Love in Brick and Mortar

It wasn’t easy. The idea of a mini Taj Mahal in a rural graveyard sparked criticism. Resources were limited. But Rasool persisted. “I hired a local mason and began building slowly. So far, I’ve spent around 1.2 million rupees. There’s still much to do, but I’ll keep going.”

Even unfinished, the structure already stands as a powerful symbol — not of wealth, but of remembrance and devotion.

A Legacy Carved in Love

In an age ruled by materialism, Rasool Bux Palli’s gesture feels almost revolutionary. The Taj Mahal of Umerkot is more than a monument it is a love story in stone. It speaks not of emperors or empires, but of simple humanity. Of a man who found salvation in his wife, and who now honors her with every brick laid in her memory. In this remote corner of Sindh where silence often hides emotion Rasool has made love visible. His story reminds us that even the humblest heart can create something eternal. Umerkot has found its own legend of love, not one born of royalty, but of resilience.

Read: Life of Compassion, Culture, and Service

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Based in Umerkot, the writer is a social development professional. He can be contacted on anrahimoo@gmail.com

The post Another Taj Mahal for Love first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Zulfiqar Ali Kalhoro

I have been documenting the shrine culture of Sindh since 1998. These shrines have a vital role in the culture and society of the region. Most of the Sufi adepts buried in them have significantly shaped Sindh’s cultural landscape.

One notable shrine is that of Sufi Shah Naseeruddin Naqshbandi, commonly known as Sufi Shah Naseer. Buried in the town of Naushahro Feroze, he was a Naqshbandi Sufi saint and poet.

I visited the shrine of Sufi Shah Naseer in 2021 with my friends Dr. Imdad Ali Memon, Irshad Ali Memon and Engr. Majid Ali Soomro – who all have extensive knowledge of Sufi shrines in the Naushahro Feroze district. Dr. Imdad Ali Memon is the author of Qalandariyyat, a book on the hagiography, poetry and philosophy of Lal Shahbaz Qalandar.

As part of my research for my forthcoming book, Sufi Space: Dargahs of Sindh, I visited several shrines in the Naushahro Feroze district and gathered material at the shrine of Sufi Shah Naseer. A multilingual poet, Sufi Shah Naseer wrote in Sindhi, Seraiki, Persian and Urdu. Like poets of earlier generations, he adopted a variety of figures – from romantic characters to wandering ascetics such as the Jogis and Samis – to convey his message.

The shrine complex reflects the tolerant culture of Sindhi society, drawing followers from both Muslim and Hindu communities. Travelling through Naushahro Feroze, Khairpur, Shikarpur, Larkana, Dadu and Shaheed Benazirabad districts, one encounters many shrines of the disciples of Sufi Shah Naseer and his father, Abdul Hayee Naqshbandi.

These Sufis of Naushahro Feroze played a transformative role in Sindh’s society through their preaching, poetry and commitment to interfaith harmony, inclusivity and tolerance – all hallmarks of Sindhi culture. Sufi Shah Naseer stands out as a towering figure in the promotion of these values.

According to Dr. Nawaz Ali Shouq (2004), compiler of Kalam Shah Naseer, the Sufi was born in 1223 AH/ 1808 CE in the town of Naushahro Feroze, Sindh. His father, Abdul Hayee, was a prominent Naqshbandi Sufi of the region. Abdul Hayee’s father, Shahabuddin, was also a celebrated Naqshbandi mentor who initiated many followers into the Naqshbandiyya order. Abdul Hayee continued his father’s legacy and numerous people became his disciples.

Among his most notable followers were Usman Faqir Sangi (d. 1860) and Faqir Khush Khair Muhammad Hisbani (d. 1877), both distinguished poets who promoted their mentor’s teachings. The shrine of Faqir Khush Khair Muhammad Hisbani is located in Karoondi, Khairpur. Usman Faqir Sangi’s shrine is located in the village of Jamri, Larkana.

Two Kalhora brothers – Dhullah Darya Khan Faqir and Nishan Ali Faqir, sons of Muhammad Ilyas Kalhoro – were also disciples of Abdul Hayee Naqshbandi. Both were poets in Sindhi and Seraiki. Dhullah Darya Khan passed away in 1309 AH/ 1891 CE and was buried in a village that later came to be known by his name, near Mangwani village in Dadu’s Khairpur Nathan Shah. His younger brother, Nishan Faqir, died in 1320 AH/ 1902 and was buried in Lalu Raunk, in the Warah taluka of Kamber-Shahdadkot district.

Dr. Ali Akbar Aser Qureshi, a prominent historian and author from Junani village in Warah, has made significant contributions to the study of Sufi teachers, poets and the cultural heritage of Larkana, Kamber-Shahdadkot and Dadu districts. He has also written extensively on the Sufi figures associated with the spiritual legacy of Sufi Shah Naseer and his father, Abdul Hayee Naqshbandi.

Sufi Shah Naseer received his early education from his father. He later pursued further learning under the guidance of Maulvi Muhammad Qasim and Qazi Ghulam Muhammad. According to Dr Nawaz Ali Shouq (2004), Abdul Hayee Naqshbandi appointed both Usman Faqir Sangi and Faqir Khush Khair Muhammad Hisbani to mentor Sufi Shah Naseer. He was only twelve years old when Abdul Hayee passed away. Following his death, both Usman Faqir Sangi and Khush Khair Muhammad Hisbani remained in Naushahro Feroze to guide and support young Naseer.

Sufi Shah Naseer was not only a Sufi poet but also a committed advocate for Muslim-Hindu unity. He was revered by followers from both religious communities. Among his prominent Hindu disciples were Mohan Faqir, Faqir Hashmat Rai, Faqir Hari Singh and Faqir Khushi Ram Sodhai. Faqir Hari Singh, Khushi Ram Sodhai and Mohan Faqir were also poets who wrote in Sindhi.

Mohan Faqir, the son of Premchand Ahuja, was a resident of Aqil village in Larkana. He spent much of his life in Larkana and Naushahro Feroze serving his spiritual master. He died in 1905. According to legend, after his death, there was disagreement over his final rites: Muslims wished to bury him, while Hindus wanted to cremate him. He was ultimately buried in Sehwan, where he had spent a considerable part of his life. His spiritual guide, Sufi Shah Naseer Naqshbandi, also spent time in Sehwan. It is believed that Mohan Faqir had a kafi (a small Sufi lodge) built for him there.

Sufi Shah Naseer stands out as a towering figure advocating for interfaith harmony, inclusiveness and tolerance – hallmarks of Sindhi culture.

The Ahuja family of Aqil village produced several mystics and poets. One such figure was Hasa Ram Hasa (d. 1935), a cousin of Mohan Faqir. He was a disciple of Data Faiz Darya, whose shrine is located in Anbah village in Shikarpur. Hasa Ram Hasa composed poetry in Sindhi and Hindi in praise of his spiritual mentor, Data Faiz Darya (d. 1907). Data Faiz Darya’s father, Pir Muhammad Shah Jilani, was a disciple of Sufi Shah Naseer. Another Hindu disciple of Sufi Shah Naseer was Khushi Ram Sodhai, who was also known for his poetry.

According to Tazkira Mashaheer-i-Sindh, Vol. 1 by Maulana Din Muhammad Wafai (1991), Sufi Shah Naseer had a substantial following in Larkana, a city he frequently visited. He also had devotees in other districts, including Shikarpur, Khairpur and Shaheed Benazirabad (formerly Nawabshah). A keen traveller, Sufi Shah Naseer journeyed with his followers to Balochistan, Kandahar, Sirhind, Ajmer and even Bombay (now Mumbai). Nevertheless, he spent most of his time in Naushahro Feroze, where he also passed away.

Maulana Wafai records his date of death as 1318 AH/ 1900 AD. However, this is contested. According to the Bayaz (notebook) of Faqir Hidayat Ali Najafi Tarek (d. 1939), a disciple of Sufi Shah Naseer’s son Shah Safiullah, he actually died in 1307 AH/ 1889 AD — a date considered more accurate by some scholars. In his Bayaz, Faqir Hidayat Ali also recorded the dates of death for various other Sufi poets, including Dhullah Darya Khan, who died in 1309 AH/ 1891 AD.

The list of poets who were disciples of Abdul Hayee and his son, Sufi Shah Naseer, is extensive. One notable figure is Aen Ali Shah Rizvi (d. 1297 AH/1879 AD), the son of Umeed Ali Shah. He came from the village of Wazir Phulpoto, near Aghani in Larkana, and enjoyed a significant following. His son, Syed Noorullah, was also a poet and became a disciple of Shah Safiullah, continuing the spiritual and literary legacy of his forebears.

Ghulam Shah Bukhari was a disciple and poet of the kafi tradition. He originally lived in Hingorija, Khairpur, but later settled in Haitri, located in the Dokri taluka of Larkana. The village was subsequently renamed Haitri Ghulam Shah in his honour. He passed away in 1918 and was buried there.

Many poets associated with the cult of Sufi Shah Naseer went on to influence other writers and spiritual poets. One such figure was Khalifo Ghulamullah Kalhoro (1855–1956), a contemporary of several poets connected to Sufi Shah Naseer. He resided in Chau Dero village near Wagan town in Kamber Shahdadkot district. His three published literary works are Ser Sulemani, Yousaf Zulekha and Akhan Yousaf.

Two of the most prominent disciples and Sufi poets in Shah Naseer’s circle were Muhammad Musa Faqir Channo and Rustam Faqir Laghari, who both hailed from Larkana and devoted themselves in service to their mentor.

Sufi Shah Naseer also had a son, Shah Safiullah Ashiq, who was a multilingual poet. He wrote in Sindhi, Seraiki and Persian, using Ashiq as his pen name.

According to Shamshad Ahmed Soomro, an associate professor at Government Mehran Degree College, Moro, in the Naushahro Feroze district, who has written an MPhil dissertation on Sufi Shah Naseer, Shah Safiullah had three sons: Sain Abdul Hayee II (also known as Nawal Ghot), Shah Abdul Kareem and Shah Abdul Ali. Soomro has conducted significant research on the poets associated with the legacy of Sufi Shah Naseer and his father, Abdul Hayee Naqshbandi.

After the death of Sufi Shah Naseer, his son Shah Safiullah became the sajjada nashin (hereditary custodian) of his shrine. He later moved to Larkana, where he died in 1928 and was buried in the makan or maikhana (a space for social gatherings) of Mohan Faqir. This site later became the shrine of Shah Safiullah. His two sons, Shah Abdul Kareem and Shah Abdul Ali, are also buried at this shrine. It is said that Mohan Faqir remained unmarried and allocated all of his property to his mentor, Sufi Shah Naseer.

After the death of Shah Safiullah, his son Abdul Hayee II—also known as Nawal Ghot—became the custodian of the shrine of Sufi Shah Naseer. Nawal Ghot was not only a Sufi scholar but also a renowned hakeem, a practitioner of traditional medicine. Soomro Hakeem Ghulam Muhammad ‘Arshi from Bhiriya town, studied hikmat under him and later became a respected hakeem in his own right.

Soomro Hakeem Ghulam Muhammad originally hailed from Taggar village, the hometown of Khush Khair Muhammad Hisbani, a disciple of Abdul Hayee. However, after erosion caused by the Indus River affected the village, his family relocated and settled in Bhiriya town. In addition to practicing traditional medicine, Soomro Hakeem Ghulam Muhammad Arshi (d. 2003) was an author. His teacher, Nawal Ghot, passed away in 1965 and was buried in the tomb of Sufi Shah Naseer.

There are several graves within and around the tomb of Sufi Shah Naseer. The central chamber contains three principal graves: that of Sufi Shah Naseer himself, his father Abdul Hayee I, and his grandson Abdul Hayee II (Nawal Ghot). Outside the tomb, on the western side, there are two additional graves; one of these is believed to belong to Atta Muhammad, the father of Shahabuddin and grandfather of Abdul Hayee I.

Located in the town of Naushahro Feroze, the shrine of Sufi Shah Naseer remains one of the most visited in the region. It draws not only devoted followers but also everyday visitors who come to pay their respects to one of Sindh’s most cherished Sufi poets. Sufi Shah Naseer preached a message of love, peace, humility, humanity, tolerance and inclusivity—values that continue to be upheld by his descendants and disciples.

Read: Uncovering The Missing Links

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The writer is an anthropologist at the Pakistan Institute of Development Economics, Islamabad. He has authored 17 books on Pakistan’s cultural heritage and anthropology. He tweets @kalhorozulfiqar. He may be contacted at zulfi04@hotmail.com

First published by The News

The post Legacy of Love and Pluralism first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ochildiyeva Shahnoza

Spring is a dawn – A dawn that awakens the entire world and gifts warmth, joy, and delight to every heart. With the arrival of spring, nature revives: trees and plants begin to bud, and the earth’s green attire refreshes the soul. New plans, dreams, and sincere intentions blossom within the human heart. One of the most beautiful aspects of spring is how its brightness manifests itself in people’s moods. Not only the world around us, but our inner selves also become lighter and more radiant.

Today, every corner of our country breathes spring. Parks, gardens, and recreation areas are filled with people. Everyone rushes to enjoy the season and spend time with loved ones. Especially the youth — they fill every green field with laughter. They eat together, play games, laugh, and take photos. Such scenes inspire a deeper appreciation for life.

On one such inspiring day, we — a group of students, under the guidance of our teacher Ma’mura Erkinovna — set out for a picnic in Anhor Park. The warm sunlight, the fresh air infused with the spirit of spring, the presence of dear friends, and heartfelt conversations all became part of an unforgettable memory. Some unexpected moments, little mistakes and imperfections only added more color to our day.

Indeed, it is such seemingly simple moments that nourish the heart and soothe the soul. A picnic with close friends is not merely a break — it is a heartfelt ceremony that binds hearts together. Not only food is shared, but also joy, affection, and loyalty.

In today’s fast-paced world, with time rushing by, we often struggle to find even a moment for ourselves or to reach out to our loved ones. But fleeting minutes on the clock ask us to appreciate them, to enjoy love and the beautiful memories it brings. Truly, in this temporary world where everything eventually fades, only emotions, inner wealth, spiritual growth, and precious memories belong to us. And the moments spent with sincere friends seem to pause time itself. They create lasting memories that live on in the heart — becoming part of our soul’s deepest core.

The picnic we had with our group of nearly twenty course mates and our beloved teacher is one of those moments — unforgettable and forever engraved in photos and hearts. We are thankful to our teacher, Ma’mura Erkinovna, for bringing us together, encouraging unity, and helping us experience the beauty of nature in its purest form. Indeed, going out into nature with good friends is not a mere outing. That’s why many young people choose to adorn their spring days with such picnics. To some, a picnic may seem like a common activity — something anyone can plan anytime. But for me, it is a ceremony of strengthening trust, loyalty, and affection. And spring is the most exquisite season that nurtures such sincerity.

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Ochildiyeva Shahnoza is 1st year student at English philology and teaching languages faculty of Uzbekistan Journalism and Mass Communications University

Read – Book Review: War, Books and Humanity

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Just be the best version of yourself

Because I know that having you by my side

Means calming my soul that seeks tenderness…

Maid Corbic, a young poet hailing from Tuzla, Bosnia Herzegovina, shares his poetry

Maid Corbic from Tuzla, Bosnia Herzegovina, is a well awarded young poet. Many of his works have been published in anthologies and magazines in Chile, Spain, Ecuador, Bosnia and Herzegovina, San Salvador, United Kingdom, Indonesia, India, Croatia, Serbia, etc. as well as printed anthology of poems “Sea in the palm of your hand”, “Stories from Isolation”, and” Kosovo Peony “and others. In 2020 he was named Poet of the Year in the Indo-Universe Group, which also engages in charity around the world. He is winner of numerous awards, among them the association “KNS – Nova Svjetlost” in Sarajevo, during which he won a bronze charter for his work. He is the winner of the BigBang competition that was organized in Tuzla in 2021.

WHEN LOVE DISAPPEARS

And that trace that is no longer persistent

I still remember those times

When love was persistent

In ourselves when it least challenges

I know that meaning is what I seek

And that person can only be you

Because every hope of mine is a part of the soul

That must not be lightly trampled

If I disappear one day

Just be the best version of yourself

Because I know that having you by my side

Means calming my soul that seeks tenderness

Everything in life can have meaning

But I hope you won’t disappear

Because the only thing I seek

Are almond-colored dreams and dreamy eyes

And if you are far from me

Never grieve for me

Because I still think of you

Kilometers away.

***

LIGHT SELECTION

Passing through the transversal of life

Where people don’t see their behavior lightly today

They find meaning in everything somewhere far away

Nestled in four chilly walls with no return

The silence breaks, the almond-colored eyes have become cloudy

And the realization that the light is the limit

Creating colorful colors that are persistent

In paraplegicity, thoughts written in words, less in deeds

Light selection as a beam of light subdues the mind

And they don’t let silence take the risk

While the eyes are still the color of the soul and dreaminess

I assemble my emotions in the development of my emotions

Maybe I’m different from the majority

But I think the silence says it all

Because it still has to be reached somehow

And how, only God knows!

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Read: Peace rules in the world… – Poetry from Bosnia Herzegovina

The post Poetry: When Love Disappears first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Which involves your whole being

It is never in parts

That we love somebody.

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, a renowned poet and writer from Chandigarh, India, shares his mystic poetry

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, based in Chandigarh, is an Indian poet and scholar credited with 170 plus books of English literature, philosophy and spirituality. He won great Serbian Award Charter of Morava and his name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He was honored with Seneca Award LAUDIS CHARTA by Academy of Arts & Philosophical Sciences, Bari, Italy 2024. He is Founder President of the International Academy of Ethics and conferred Doctor of Philosophy (Honoris Causa) by University of Engineering & Management, (UEM) Jaipur. Email anandjs55@yahoo.com 

Biblio-link: https://sites.google.com/view/bibliography-dr-jernal-singh/home   

LOVE

Love is a feeling

Which involves your whole being

It is never in parts

That we love somebody.

Love is so possessive

When someone leaves you

Nothing is left behind

Except a carcass

It burns like a candle

And sends soft light in every

Part of your body

And every reach of your mind

You are like a captured fort

An idol descends

In the sanctum sanctorum

Where you pray thankfully to your gods.

Neither this body nor this mind

Nothing belongs to you

Your soul is sucked

And your senses obliviated.

***

FREEDOM

If a dog gets free of its chain

What will it possibly do?

Its barking was never a problem

Only biting was.

So, that is the forbidden job

It will run out to perform.

A dog’s mind runs straight

No complexes, no complexities

It will run around and smell

A hundred places, pee at will,

And certainly look for

Female interest.

Freedom for a man does not mean

Anything else.

The liberties that the dog might take

Stand nowhere in comparison

To a man

Losing his chains.

Men are not prone to reason

As Rousseau premised,

They are more like Hobbes aboriginals

Chains off, they will run riot

Kill at will, and visit chaos all around.

Already there is moral confusion in society

Inspite of constitutions and conventions

Restraintless freedom

Is neither possible nor desirable

In a civilized society for dogs as for men*

*includes all genders

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Read: Are Gods Dim-Witted? – Mystic Poetry from India

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• Brotherless Night highlights the power of women when they organize as a community. A determined mother is a force unto herself. Dozens, hundreds, and thousands of determined mothers and sisters can stop a government in its tracks, even if it is for a short period.

By Raji Pillai

Radicalization of young men in a civil war

How does a young man become “radicalized?” Subject him, his family, and his community to injustice, ignite his anger with senseless acts of violence, and you will see him abandon his education, livelihood, and family to seek justice in a way he sees possible in the short term. In the absence of education, he becomes filled with hate, violence, and destruction.

What then, if he turns into the same people he despises? What if, backed into a corner, he adopts the same senseless strategies that pushed him onto this path? Does anyone win? Perhaps not. More often, everyone loses. This is the sadness of war, the heartbreak of families torn to shreds, lives upended or ended too soon.

An uncompromising novel

V V Ganeshananthan’s uncompromising novel Brotherless Night, the winner of the Women’s Prize for Fiction, 2024,  is a simply written account of enormous personal loss. It systematically documents the events, small and big, in the life of a family in Jaffna during the time of the Civil War in Sri Lanka from 1985-89, and the clashes between the Sinhalese government based in Colombo and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) based in Jaffna.

Amid the background of political unrest, turmoil, and grave danger, there are stories of friendship, love, and longing: abiding friendships, lasting, truncated, or unrequited love, longing for a ‘normal’ life, a life of simplicity, predictability, impossible in the midst of Civil War.

Sashikala Kulenthiren, the narrator, is a young woman in her teens, then 20s, as the narrative progresses, growing up in a family with four brothers, three older, and one younger. She is an aspiring doctor, following in the footsteps of her adored oldest brother Niranjan, as well as doctor-in-training K, the childhood companion who makes her heart race. Sashi’s father works away from home, and is largely absent as critical moments unfold and more and more young men from the neighborhood simply disappear. Some join the militant LTTE, also called the Tamil Tigers, while others are arrested by the government, never to be heard from again. Her mother steps out of her comfort zone into a primary role, joins forces with other women and mothers to demand answers and seek justice.

The voices of women

Brotherless Night highlights the power of women when they organize as a community. A determined mother is a force unto herself. Dozens, hundreds, and thousands of determined mothers and sisters can stop a government in its tracks, even if it is for a short period.  This book is a tribute to the women who sought to right wrongs, to save lives, to keep the peace. Foremost among them is Professor of Anatomy Dr. Anjali Parameswaran (addressed as Anjali Acca by her students,) modeled after Dr. Rajani Thiranagama, who was assassinated by the Tamil Tigers for her moderate views. A revered figure in Sri Lankan history, she also features as the white-coated spirit, Dr. Ranee in The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida, Shehan Karunatilaka’s 2022 Booker Prize-winning tale of the Sri Lankan Civil War in which the quotidian dances with the supernatural in a maelstrom of reality and make-believe.

Sashi is gentle but deliberate; possessed of deep conviction, she shows small, measured acts of courage, even if they are not fiery or flamboyant. As the horrors she witnesses and experiences increase, her voice remains young, idealistic, and vulnerable. Her words are poignant: “You must understand: I have to tell myself again because even though I was there, it seems impossible.”

Unsparing detail

The terror of a family hiding at home as armed agents of harm approach closer every minute, the horror of hearing, then seeing neighbors being slaughtered for belonging to a different ethnic group — Ganeshananthan relates these stories slowly, and with bone-chilling, bloodcurdling detail. There is no out here – no opportunity to imagine for a moment that it was not so bad. It was horrific, and she tells it how it was, from the exploding bombs and the point-blank executions to the violence against women. And no one is exempt– she shines the light on all perpetrators – the Sinhalese government, the Tamil militants, the Indian Peacekeeping Force. She showcases the callousness of politicians for whom lives are dispensable, even if they can be saved – a hunger strike that could have been called off, but wasn’t.

Wistful sister, resolute humanist

All this is told through the lens of a wistful sister struggling to hold on to her brothers and the tight, loving family they were – holding onto their persons, and the memories of the love they shared.

A resolute humanist, Sashi is inspired by Anjali Acca to write down everything she has seen, and joins efforts to document the experiences of those affected by the war. In The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida, incriminating photographs were the fiercely protected treasure; here it is the written word. The narrator helps others bear witness, and brings their stories to the larger world. A carefully compiled, anthropologically sound collection of war stories is a significant product of her efforts.

Read: What Sri Lanka’s economic crisis looks like for women

A woman lives through and survives a Civil War. She makes it her life mission to give voice to those who have suffered immense loss. One is left with a lingering feeling of pointlessness – did anyone gain, did everyone lose? Brotherless Night is an important new addition to the writings from and about Sri Lanka in the time of the Civil War, and notable in having women at its center.

Brotherless Night is the winner of the 2024 Women’s Prize for Fiction and the 2024 Carol Shields Prize, a New York Times Editors’ Choice, and an NPR Book of the Year.

Read: Life of a Sri Lankan student in Karachi

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Raji Pillai lives in the San Francisco Bay Area and writes at www.rajiwrites.com. You can find her on Twitter at @rajiwrites2

Courtesy: India Currents (Posted on December 1, 2024)

The post Brotherless Night: Family, Love & Civil War In Sri Lanka first appeared on Sindh Courier.