The many faces of van-walas

This is with reference to the cover article “The many faces of van-walas” by Marvi Soomro (YW, January 24).

I really enjoyed reading it because it captured a part of school life that most of us rarely think about, yet experience everyday. The van drivers described in the article were funny and very relatable. While reading, I could easily recognise the “DJ uncle” and the “shortcut master” from my own school days.

We often remember teachers and classmates, but the people who take us safely to and from school every day also play an important role in our lives.

Hassan Ali,
Karachi

II

The cover story “The many faces of van-walas” by Marvi Soomro was humorous and engaging, I felt it also indirectly highlighted some serious issues about school transportation.

Students in the school vans depend on the driver’s responsibility and careful behaviour on the road. Safety should always come first. Parents and drivers both need to ensure that school journeys are secure and not turned into risky adventures.

Still, the article did a good job of showing how memorable these daily rides can be in a student’s life.

Areeba Siddiqui,
Islamabad

It’s okay to be lonely

This is with reference to the article “It’s okay to be lonely by” Amna Qureshi (YW, January 10).

The article raised an important issue that many young people experience, but rarely talk about openly. Loneliness does not always mean being physically alone and that even in a crowd, one can feel disconnected.

While the article gave encouraging advice about accepting oneself and using alone time productively, I feel the topic could have explored deeper emotional aspects of loneliness as well.

Saad Mirza,
Peshawar

Home in a suitcase

This is with reference to the story “Home in a suitcase” by Rameen Kaka (YW, January 24).

The story described the mixed emotions a student feels when leaving home for studies. Simple details, like her mother’s dupatta and her Baba’s jacket, showed how small belongings can carry deep memories and comfort. What I liked most was how the writer explained that home is not just a place, but also a feeling shaped by the love and memories we carry with us.

It was a warm and thoughtful reminder that even when we are far away, our family remains close to us in many ways.

Hira Khan,
Sukkur

Published in Dawn, Young World, March 19th, 2026

Rebel English Academy
By Mohammed Hanif
Maktaba-e-Danyal
ISBN: 978-969-419-131-7
223pp.

Rumour says he is coming back. The coffin was locked. The burial supervised. The paperwork completed. Yet, somewhere in a dusty bazaar, someone swears former prime minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto has been seen. A pamphlet circulates. A whisper grows. And suddenly, a military officer, hundreds of miles away, is being screamed at for failing to keep a dead man dead.

In Rebel English Academy, Mohammed Hanif opens up the charged space between fact and rumour, showing how, in Pakistan, political gossip is never just talk. Set in the days following Bhutto’s execution, the novel unfolds in the fictional OK Town, where grief, denial and opportunism mingle in the air, and whispers travel quickly — from tea stalls to offices, from mosque loudspeakers to private bedrooms.

Soldiers, clerics and ordinary citizens alike find themselves unsettled by the slogan “Bhutto Lives”. Hanif understands something we continue to witness today: power may control events, but it rarely controls the story that follows.

It is through people, not slogans, that this tension becomes visible. Hanif explores three lives that reflect different responses to power. The first is Sir Baghi, who embodies the exhaustion of failed rebellion. Once a fiery revolutionary who paid for his rhetoric with torture, he now runs a modest English academy in a mosque’s compound. The academy of the novel’s title is less a school than a scaled-down revolution, a space where rebellion survives in language when it can no longer survive in politics; here, Baghi’s revolution narrows into grammar lessons and small, stubborn principles, a form of survival that may still afford him some dignity.

Mohammed Hanif’s deeply satirical new novel, set in the days following former prime minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s execution, uses three protagonists to explore ways of thinking about power

In contrast, Captain Gul represents a different kind of survival. Young, ambitious and slightly ridiculous, he works for the Field Intelligence Unit and dreams of becoming a legend whispered about in foreign capitals. Instead, he is posted to OK Town, where he must deal with slogans claiming “Bhutto Lives.” He is ordered to “make him go away” again, as if rumour requires a second burial. His bravado masks insecurity. He is loyal to the state but unsettled by how easily a whisper can undermine it.

Between these two men stands Sabiha Bano, who refuses both nostalgia and obedience. Once Baghi’s student and the daughter of a labour union leader, she re-enters his life carrying a pistol and difficult questions. Her essay Our Cow begins as a school exercise and turns into a charged memory of comrades, fire and impending violence. When she confronts Baghi and asks whether he is still the rebel people claim he was, she exposes the gap between his past and present. Sabiha is not content with nostalgia. She is impatient with compromise.

The academy of the novel’s title is less a school than a scaled-down revolution, a space where rebellion survives in language when it can no longer survive in politics.

It is in the friction between these three lives that the novel’s argument takes shape. Hanif does not linger on them merely for colour or subplot; each becomes a way of thinking about power. Through Baghi, we see what happens to rebellion when it survives but does not win. Through Gul, we see how authority performs strength while remaining anxious about legitimacy. Through Sabiha, we see the cost of inheriting both failure and force. Their stories are not digressions from the political moment, but its most intimate expression.

However, as the narrative expands in different directions, its momentum is occasionally unsettled by frequent shifts in perspectives and the sheer sprawl of voices and episodes. The narrative moves from Captain Gul’s cantonment theatrics to Baghi’s bruised introspection, from Sabiha’s essays to the spectacle of the alleged rumour-spreader’s burning.

In a town gripped by rumours and fear after the hanging of an ex-prime minister, stories do not unfold neatly. They collide, overlap and burn out mid-sentence. The fragmentation reflects a society where no life is allowed a single, uninterrupted narrative.

Hanif writes in a brisk, controlled style that carries the sharpness of his journalism. His sentences move quickly, often driven by dialogue that feels lived-in and unfiltered. He has a keen ear for how people in power speak, how rumours sound in a bazaar and how piety and paranoia share the same vocabulary. At times, this journalistic edge turns the novel into something close to public commentary. The satire bites harder than the sentiment lingers, giving the book its urgency and political clarity.

To write about a leader who was executed decades ago is not, in Hanif’s hands, an act of nostalgia. It is a way of asking why that moment still feels unfinished. The novel does not appear stuck in the past so much as alert to how often Pakistan returns to it and how the same tensions between elected power and uniformed authority resurface under new names and new slogans. Bhutto becomes less a historical figure and more a recurring argument.

The strong presence of Captain Gul underscores how deeply institutional power continues to shape civilian life. If there is an allegory here, it is not about one man’s authoritarian streak but about a cycle in which charisma, populism and control blur into one another.

Hanif suggests that, unless the balance between civilian rule and state authority is resolved, history will not simply echo but repeat itself. In that sense, Rebel English Academy reads less like a backwards glance and more like a warning about cycles we have yet to break.

The reviewer is a Teaching Fellow at the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences at LUMS

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 15th, 2026

The Book of Sheen: A Memoir
By Charlie Sheen
Gallery Books
ISBN: 978-1668075289
368pp.

A human train wreck may be the simplest way to describe Charlie Sheen.

His career began with promise, progressed quickly and crashed often, but somehow kept moving. After five decades in Hollywood, Sheen finally tells his side of the story in his memoir The Book of Sheen, a blunt account of fame, failure and survival.

The title may sound plain, but it is apt as the book allows Sheen to lay everything out. He writes about his early struggles to become an actor, his sudden success and his long fight with addiction. What starts as a story of opportunity slowly turns into one of self-destruction, marked by relapses, rehab stays and missed chances.

Sheen may not have become the superstar many expected, but he remains part of a strong Hollywood lineage. His father, Martin Sheen, paved the way and Charlie followed with memorable roles in Platoon, Wall Street, Major League and Hot Shots. The memoir makes it clear that talent was never the issue. Addiction was.

The book opens dramatically, with Sheen describing his birth, during which he nearly died. His umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck, and a priest was called in. His doctor refused to give up, and Sheen survived. It is a powerful beginning and, in many ways, it mirrors the rest of his life: narrow escapes followed by hard falls.

Actor Charlie Sheen may not have become the superstar many expected, but he remains part of a strong Hollywood lineage. His memoir makes it clear that talent was never the issue. Addiction was.

Sheen writes openly about his failures as a husband and father, and his inability to stay sober for long. When he was successful, he was one of the most photographed men in the world and the highest-paid actor on television. Then the tabloid headlines took over. Sex, drugs and reckless behaviour undid much of what he did.

The book’s voice ensures the reader feels as if Sheen is speaking directly to them. The pace is fast and casual, and sometimes lacks structure. He names friends, lovers, wives and one-night stands with little restraint. At times, it seems he forgets this is a book for the public, not a private confession, and these passages feel excessive and distracting.

Still, the memoir has its strengths. It is written in a clear chronological order, with short chapters that keep the pace moving. Sheen describes his childhood, constant changes in schools and friendships with future stars such as Sean Penn, Rob Lowe, Nicholas Cage and Chris Penn. He shares moments from the sets of Apocalypse Now, including meeting Marlon Brando and learning about his father’s heart attack while filming.

There are many entertaining behind-the-scenes stories. Sheen talks about making Super 8mm films with his brothers and friends, his late arrival on the set of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off for a cameo, and turning down the lead role in The Karate Kid on his father’s advice. He also reveals that he stuttered as a child, tried weed for the first time during his teens, and was mistaken for a real soldier by the Philippine army during the shooting of Platoon. Sounds unbelievable? Well, it happened!

The book becomes more engaging when Sheen focuses on his career. He describes how easily success came to him and how uncomfortable that made him. His account of losing and then gaining a role in Platoon at his brother Emilio’s expense is especially revealing. The darker chapters cover arrests, domestic disputes, rehab stints and scandals that made him famous for the wrong reasons. He does not shy away from these moments, but he also often blames substances rather than taking full responsibility.

When Sheen discusses Spin City and Two and a Half Men, the tone shifts. There is little gossip and few behind-the-scenes details, which might disappoint those who want to know more. Although he does talk about the insecurity he felt when Michael J. Fox returned to the sets of Spin City, he doesn’t satisfy the readers by reminiscing about his exit from the easiest job in the world — playing a version of himself in Two and a Half Men. What he does talk about freely is the subject of addiction, which seems to be the book’s central theme.

The memoir also features celebrity anecdotes about Bill Clinton, O.J. Simpson and Sophia Loren, playful spelling quirks, and defensive explanations of his past behaviour. These sections are lighter but less gripping than the rest of the book.

Sheen also touches on important moments of his life: his relationship with The Rookie co-star and director Clint Eastwood, working alongside his father, and living with HIV after being diagnosed with the disease in 2011. These parts are handled with more restraint and maturity.

In conclusion, The Book of Sheen is not a story of triumph. It is a story of survival. As Sheen himself writes, “We can live the stories or hear about them later from others. I choose the former.” His life proves that fame, talent and family connections are no guarantee of stability. This memoir is messy, honest and uneven — much like the man who wrote it.

The reviewer is a broadcast journalist who also writes on sports, film, television and popular culture

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 15th, 2026