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SMOKERS’ CORNER: GHOSTS ON THE SCREEN

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 Illustration by Abro
Illustration by Abro

On the screen, horrific images of World War II flicker, showing the skeletal figures of Jewish men, women and children in Nazi concentration camps being marched into the horrors of the “Final Solution.”

It is a sombre cinematic and television ritual we have come to expect. Yet, if one observes the scheduling of these screened tragedies, a pattern emerges.

Whenever the state of Israel faces widespread condemnation for its brutal excursions in the Middle East, the Western entertainment industry develops a sudden, renewed obsession with Jewish victimhood during the last world war.

This is what media scholars call “affective management”, a term describing how our emotional responses are curated by those who control the narrative. In 1988, academics Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky examined this as an attempt to mitigate the public relations (PR) disaster of the present with the trauma of the past.

By re-running the tragedy faced by the Jewish people at the hands of the Nazis, the Western entertainment industry provides a moral counterweight that often dilutes contemporary criticism of Israeli state violence. The criticism becomes ‘antisemitism’.

In the 1970s and 1980s, as Israel’s image gradually mutated from the ‘underdog’ of 1948 to a regional leviathan, especially following its 1982 invasion of Lebanon, Western airwaves were hit with a wave of Holocaust dramas. The 1978 NBC miniseries Holocaust did not just win Emmys. It reached hundreds of millions of viewers precisely as the international community began to grapple with Israel’s diplomatic isolation at the United Nations (UN).

From acclaimed Holocaust dramas to nationalist blockbusters, the strategic revival of past trauma can influence public perception, shifting attention from present-day violence to the moral weight of historical suffering

When the First Intifada broke out in the occupied territories of Palestine in the late 1980s, during which young Palestinians fought Israeli troops with slingshots, the American broadcasting network ABC responded with the expensive multi-part epic War and Remembrance.

As the world watched nightly news footage of Israeli soldiers using violent tactics against Palestinian stone-throwers, War and Remembrance provided an emotional diversion. It ensured that the image of the Jew as the eternal victim remained the dominant cultural framework, even as the Israeli state was acting as the primary aggressor.

In 1997, media scholar Yosefa Loshitzky noted that the “sacralisation of the Holocaust” provides a moral shield, creating a binary where the memory of a past genocide is used to silence discourse on Israel’s contemporary human rights violations.

Films such as The Zone of Interest (2023), which depicts a troubled German commandant of a concentration camp during World War II, do not simply appear by chance. They are launched with massive fanfare at film festivals, precisely when discourse on apartheid or genocide in the Middle East reaches a boiling point.

In the age of Netflix and streaming, this reflex has become even more frequent. During the recent ‘Gaza War’, in which Israeli forces killed tens — if not hundreds — of thousands of Palestinian men, women and children, and during Israel’s recent attacks on Lebanon and Iran, streaming platforms seemed to have gone into overdrive.

Suddenly, films such as Schindler’s List (1993) and The Pianist (2002), meditations on the horrors of the Holocaust, were pushed to the top of ‘recommended’ lists, while old and new documentaries on World War II appeared to tell the same story repeatedly.

This is what the American literature professor Michael Rothberg, in his book Multidirectional Memory, identifies as “screen memory.” The term describes a historical trauma brought forward specifically to obscure a problematic contemporary reality. Viewers become so preoccupied weeping for the victims of the 1940s that they find themselves with very little emotional bandwidth left for the families currently being pulled from the rubble in Gaza and Iran.

However, this is not exclusively a Western speciality. Bollywood has also mastered this art of cultural deflection. Whenever the Modi government in India faces international heat over its increasingly exclusionary treatment of minorities, the Mumbai dream factory starts to churn out ‘epics’ about internal enemies whose ancestors supposedly sought to destroy Hinduism.

This is the Indian version of “competitive victimhood”, or the act of shouting about the past sufferings of the ‘self’ so loudly that the current suffering of ‘the other’ becomes mere background noise.

For example, 2020’s Tanhaji: The Unsung Warrior reimagined India’s historical Muslim rulers as monstrous invaders while elevating Hindu warriors as the ultimate defenders of Hinduism. Similarly, films such as The Kashmir Files (2022) or Article 370 (2024) framed the Indian state’s military presence in Kashmir not as an occupation but as a moral necessity, to prevent a return of past tragedies that befell Hindus.

In this narrative, the ‘other’ (largely Muslim) is cast as the eternal aggressor. This shift has been described by the US-based academic Nilanjana Bhattacharjya as the “new Bollywood”, where the screen memory of past conflicts is used to displace the immediate reality of contemporary state-led violence.

This trend went into overdrive after the Indian air force suffered major losses against Pakistan in May 2025. This time, instead of resurfacing a past trauma, a past victory from the 1971 Indo-Pakistan war was brought forward to displace the reality of a recent defeat. This year’s Border 2 is an example.

The Turks, under the banner of ‘Neo-Ottomanism’, have followed a similar script. While Ankara’s regional ambitions draw Western criticism, Turkish television has been dominated by historical fantasies such as Dirili: Erturul. Such shows re-imagine the Ottoman past as a period of heroic resistance against the West and internal traitors. As the Germany-based transcultural studies scholar Josh Carney points out, these dramas function as a “moral reset” for the modern state, priming the audience to view Turkiye as a beleaguered fortress defending its sacred heritage.

The early 20th century Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci wrote that dominant groups shape “cultural common sense”, making their version of history the absolute moral benchmark. When the Western entertainment industry consistently rewinds material on the violence against Jews, it establishes a framework where the security of the Jewish state is an ethical necessity that transcends international law.

By flooding the public sphere with historical trauma, the industry effectively moves the focus from the present to the past. The result is a self-reinforcing loop, where the market for historical tragedy becomes most active exactly when that tragedy serves a political purpose.

Across the board, from Hollywood to Mumbai, the industry’s reflex turns complex contemporary human rights issues into a binary struggle of survivors versus villains. It is a potent form of cultural hegemony, ensuring that the ghosts of the past remain more real to us than the dying children of the present.

Published in Dawn, EOS, March 29th, 2026



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LITBUZZ: ‘TELL US YOUR TRUTH’

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The Zeenat Haroon Rashid Writing Prize for Women calls for women writers to submit for its 2026 competition. The competition serves as a beacon of encouragement for Pakistani women writers both at home and in the diaspora, and carries a cash award of Rs100,000.

In 2026, the call for submissions is for NON-FICTION. Contestants are invited to submit entries in the form of a narrative, polemical or satirical essay, memoir, biography or travelogue on any subject or theme that uses Pakistan as a canvas or location and focuses on the country’s culture and society.

Entries open on April 1 and close on June 30. The competition is open to all women of Pakistani nationality or Pakistani heritage over the age of 18 and, as always, the judges will be looking for writing with a distinct voice.

This year the panel of judges once again features eminent figures in the literary landscape:

• Sanam Maher is a journalist from Karachi. Her book, A Woman Like Her: The Short Life of Qandeel Baloch (Bloomsbury 2019) was named one of the best books of the year by The New York Times and The New Yorker. Her work has appeared in Dawn, The New York Times, The Guardian, BBC and Al Jazeera, among other media. Since 2020, she has been a mentor for South Asia Speaks, a literary incubator for young writers in the region.

• Noreen Masud is an Associate Professor in English Literature at the University of Bristol, and an AHRC/BBC New Generation Thinker. Her memoir-travelogue, A Flat Place (Penguin 2023), was shortlisted for The Women’s Prize for Non-Fiction, The Sunday Times Charlotte Aitken Trust Young Writer of the Year Award, The Jhalak Prize, The RSL Ondaatje Prize and the Books Are My Bag Readers Awards.

• Sameer Rahim is a British novelist, critic and publisher with nearly two decades of experience in literary journalism. He has held editorial roles at publications including The London Review of Books, The Daily Telegraph, and Prospect magazine, and is currently publisher at The Bridge Street Press, a non-fiction imprint of Little, Brown (Hachette). Rahim has also served as a judge for several literary awards, including the Forward Prize for Poetry, the Orwell Prize for Political Writing, the Costa Poetry Award, and the 2020 Booker Prize. Rahim’s novel Asghar and Zahra (John Murray, 2019) received critical acclaim and was longlisted for the Desmond Elliott Prize.

Full details on how to enter and comprehensive competition rules can be found on the website

www.zhrwritingprize.com

For media enquiries please write to info@zhrwritingprize.com

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 29th, 2026



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NON-FICTION: LANGUAGES WITHOUT BORDERS

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Zubaan Aur Tehzeeb
By Safdar Rasheed
Sang-e-Meel Publications
ISBN: 978-969-35-3716-1
311pp.

Zubaan Aur Tehzeeb [Language and Civilisation] is a recent book by Dr Safdar Rasheed, an author and researcher on language and culture, which is based on a series of discussions that Dr Rasheed held during his post-doctoral stay at Heidelberg University in Germany.

Instead of relying only on documents and archives when writing the book, he also spoke to European and South Asian scholars, teachers and writers on language, culture and education. Urdu, Hindi and Sanskrit are Dr Rasheed’s main interests, but there are dialogues in the book on Bengali, Tamil and Nepali as well. Through these, he explores these languages’ history, shared roots, conflicts and their links with religion and the nation. He also looks at their present condition.

One strength of the book is Dr Rasheed’s method of writing. He does not dominate the discussions. He simply asks questions and lets the other person speak freely. This makes the book more open and diverse in tone.

The first dialogue with Dr Anand Mishra, who became associated with Heidelberg University’s Department of Cultural and Religious History in 2009, concerns Sanskrit. It challenges the common view that Sanskrit was the language of only Brahmins. We learn that it once served as a “cosmopolitan” language across South Asia, written in various scripts and used in many regions. The discussion offers an overview of Sanskrit’s evolution, from an oral to a written tradition and traces it to South Asia’s oldest intellectual history.

Through a series of dialogues with scholars, a recent Urdu book examines language, identity and culture across South Asia and Europe

As an elite language Sanskrit was used by educated and scholarly groups for intellectual, religious and literary purposes. At the same time, it functioned as a lingua franca among people across different religions. So Dr Mishra says, people from the north of India could communicate with South Indians through Sanskrit. He also notes that much of South Asia’s ancient literature, including philosophical and scientific texts, is preserved in Sanskrit, making it one of the richest classical traditions in the world. Dr Mishra further explains that many modern South Asian languages emerged from, or were deeply influenced by, Sanskrit. Therefore, he describes them as tributaries of a larger linguistic river that is Sanskrit.

Finally, the discussion connects language to identity, culture and learning in the present day. Dr Mishra stresses that studying multiple languages helps uncover shared histories and encourages cultural exchange rather than division. Therefore, languages should not be seen as enemies.

The Urdu-Hindi conflict is not a conflict and shouldn’t be a matter of concern. The actual concern, he warns, is the English language and Americanisation, which is being spread in the name of so-called “globalisation”.

The most important dialogue in the context of today’s South Asia is with Dr Pankaj Prashar, associate professor of Hindi at Aligarh Muslim University. Here, the focus is on Urdu and Hindi and Dr Prashar’s main aim is to highlight the shared past of these two languages. Instead of stressing their differences, he emphasises their similarities. According to him, insisting too much on difference only feeds conflicts related to identity, which we already see taking place on both sides of the border, especially in India.

Dr Prashar argues that many Pakistanis hold mistaken views about India, which, he says, can only be corrected by learning more about the country and engaging directly with its people. He challenges the common belief that Urdu is neglected in India. Instead, more work on the language is being done there than in Pakistan, both today and historically. Urdu, he points out, continues to be recognised as a state language in parts of India.

Dr Prashar recalls that the first Urdu printing press was set up before Partition by a Hindu publisher, Munshi Nawal Kishore. He also points to the long tradition of Hindu writers and poets who contributed to Urdu literature, including Firaq Gorakhpuri (Raghupati Sahay), Jagan Nath Azad, Kali Das Gupta Raza, Rajinder Singh Bedi and Krishan Chander.

He further highlights the widespread use of Urdu in Hindi cinema, particularly in film songs. The author also praises the contributions of Sanjiv Saraf who, through the Rekhta Foundation that he founded, is serving Urdu on an international level.

He says that the Urdu-Hindi conflict is not a conflict and shouldn’t be a matter of concern. The actual concern, he warns, is the English language and Americanisation, which is being spread in the name of so-called “globalisation”.

English, he argues, is slowly taking over not only Urdu and Hindi but almost all South Asian languages. It appears to unite people but, in reality, it is pushing local languages to the side. This, he says, is a new kind of linguistic colonialism. It does not come with soldiers or flags, but with jobs, education, status and power.

He also says that this is not only a South Asian problem. In Europe, too, English is becoming dominant. Where there was once curiosity about different cultures, there is now a rush towards English because it means global access, jobs and mobility.

The book also connects this language shift to modern life, in which language has largely become a tool, not a ‘home’. People choose the language that gives them the most advantage, not the one that carries their memories or their histories.

Although Sanskit, Urdu and Hindi remain the main focus of the book, other dialogues discuss Nepali, Bengali and Tamil in South Asia and how they are taught in Europe, while others focus on language education in Europe, postdoctoral research systems, and the experiences of migrants.

The book is not a heavy theoretical work. And this is what makes it an accessible read for those who are interested in South Asian languages and their relationship with Europe. For students, teachers and general readers alike, it offers a calm but serious look at where our languages are going and what we might lose if we stop caring about them.

The reviewer is a member of staff.

X: WaqasAliRanjha

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 29th, 2026



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FICTION: FRIENDS AND DOUBTS

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My Friend Maya
By Amber Zaffar Khan
Lightstone Publishers
ISBN: 978-969-716-311-3
239pp.

The title of the novel, My Friend Maya, seemed appealing, and the book seemed like an easy read, full of good times spent between two friends, laughter and mirth. But that wouldn’t make for a captivating story, and let the book pass as ordinary.

No wonder then, contrary to my first impression, the plot of My Friend Maya is, in fact, quite complex, as it explores themes such as narcissism, mental illness and substance abuse.

The author of the book, Amber Zaffar Khan, is an Abu Dhabi-based Pakistani art, culture and literature enthusiast and promoter, who began her literary career with a non-fiction essay, ‘Ordinary Lives’, in the anthology Home #itscomplicated. From Abu Dhabi, where she has been living for the last 23 years, she runs a successful book club with like-minded, literature-loving ladies that offers a collaborative space for sharing and discussing literary interests. My Friend Maya is her debut novel.

The story centres on the complex friendship between two friends who cross paths in their 20s, after they briefly interacted in college. They are opposite in nature — Maya is adventurous and feisty, with a rebellious approach to life, while Sehar is cool and practical and lives her life according to a strict moral and ethical code.

A debut novel tells the tale of a complex friendship between two young women while also exploring themes such as narcissism, mental illness and substance abuse

While most people in Sehar’s circle who meet Maya find something disturbing in her eyes, Sehar accepts this as just one of her characteristics. She even ignores people’s advice to be careful, despite acknowledging that “in her eyes there was an underlying fierceness and something unsettling about their gaze that discouraged prolonged eye contact, as if they invoked a subtle kind of terror.”

However, over time, their relationship is tested, and the close bond they initially formed evolves into a tumultuous one. Sehar, a steadfast loyalist, who is very kind towards Maya, realises that there is more to Maya than her charming exterior. As the story progresses and more and more facets of Maya’s personality and life are revealed, Sehar begins to question some of Maya’s actions. She is at a loss when it comes to understanding Maya’s behaviour and looks for excuses to justify her actions, though in her heart she is perplexed and not at ease.

With time, she begins to re-evaluate her place in this friendship; she struggles to cope with Maya’s erratic behaviour and constant demands for attention and time, and she continuously analyses the dynamics between them but finds it difficult to reach a clear answer. Later, she is left wondering: “Four years wasted on the belief that I was her unflinching anchor, supporting her through her darkest hours, blind to the fact that she was orchestrating a web of deceit to keep me tethered to her. How foolish I had been to think I was her saviour, her confidante, while she played the victim.”

Even when Sehar learns that her friend is suffering from a mental illness, she is at a loss to understand her behaviour. She realises that “Mental illness could alter perception and behaviour in inexplicable ways.” Yet, she has her doubts: “Was … mental illness… a genuine cause of her unstable behaviour, where the individual loses command over their thoughts and actions? Or were all the manipulations, lies and deceit also part of her personality, just compounded by her illness?”

This thought-provoking book explores the themes of psychological disorder, emotional manipulation and the human tendency for prejudice and domination, which often overlap and can profoundly damage interpersonal relations and the mental health of a person, often causing the victims to suffer from anxiety, depression and loss of self-worth.

It also addresses social taboos surrounding mental health, as well as the lack of awareness about — and understanding of — mental health problems, due to which it is difficult for people to detect if someone in the family or their circle of friends is suffering from a mental ailment. This sometimes results in the affected person’s condition deteriorating, and it is usually detected after too much water has flown under the bridge.

Furthermore, even if one realises there is a problem, seeking treatment can be difficult, due to the stigma attached to it. However, there is always hope for those who seek treatment, as when detected early and if the patient is surrounded by loving family and friends, the outcome can be positive.

Along with the relationship between the two friends, we read about issues in Sehar’s personal life — her family and her love life — which unfold as the story progresses and affect it at times. For instance, when her mother is hospitalised, Maya supports Sehar and stays overnight at her place so Sehar is not lonely. For this, Sehar feels deeply indebted to Maya for a long time, which may be another reason for her turning a blind eye or failing to see the reality of Maya’s mental state.

The reader gets a glimpse of Karachi of the mid-1980s and early 1990s through the eyes of young girls. For example, Sehar, while describing her college days in the mid-1980s, writes: “Those were simpler times; entertainment was simple and cost effective, and we were carefree youths indulging in innocent, innocuous frivolities”, such as playing badminton and throwball…; “other times just getting together and watching Top of the Pops on the VCR, or listening to music would make our day.” Readers who grew up during this time period are sure to feel nostalgic when reading such passages and will relate to them.

The book also touches on social norms now and then, the challenges faced by women of that era, the pressure to marry and the appropriate age for marriage — “Societal ethos of that era deemed that age [mid-20s] marriageable for girls” — and class consciousness. The friends, at one stage, openly discuss class differences and the characteristics that mark one as belonging to one class or another, and whether class differences affect one’s decisions, especially when choosing a life partner.

Though the book deals with some serious issues, it is a real page-turner, and the reader finds it difficult to put down, as the events in the girls’, especially Maya’s, lives keep the reader engrossed in the friends’ complex story that moves with twists and turns and keeps the reader guessing at what happens next.

The reviewer is a freelance journalist.

X: @naqviriz

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, March 29th, 2026



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