Having followed Shanzay Subzwari’s trajectory since her striking large-scale portraits of Pakistan’s cricket stars at The Second Floor (T2F) in 2013, when she was still a student at the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture (IVS), one has witnessed a compelling evolution in both form and thought. What began as an engagement with popular culture and recognisable iconography has gradually deepened into a far more introspective and metaphysical practice.

Subzwari’s work has consistently drawn from an eclectic visual vocabulary, ranging from Mughal miniature painting to currency imagery and contemporary popular culture. Her practice, enriched through international exposure at platforms such as the Moniker Art Fair in London and residencies in Switzerland and Finland, reflects both technical dexterity and conceptual ambition. Accolades such as the Chevening Scholarship and the recent Charles Wallace Fellowship further underscore her commitment to expanding her artistic language in art-making and writing.

Over the years, Subzwari’s imagery has shifted from delicate, atmospheric compositions towards more immersive and layered explorations of the inner self. Her earlier works hinted at emotional undercurrents through subtle figuration and dreamlike spaces — these have now expanded into complex visual terrains, where memory, identity and the unseen converge. This gradual movement away from the observational towards the existential finds a cohesive articulation in her recent exhibition ‘Lands Beyond the Veil’ at VM Art Gallery in Karachi.

Rooted in personal grief following the loss of two loved ones, the current body of work is suffused with a contemplative tranquillity. Yet, interestingly, this introspection is rendered through a palette of candy colours: soft pinks, luminous blues and pastel hues, which the artist describes as her “comfort colours.” Rather than sombre mourning, these tonalities create a gentle, almost tender visual language, suggesting not despair but solace.

In her latest body of work, Shanzay Subzwari transforms loss into a meditative visual language rendered in luminous colours

At the heart of the exhibition lies a meditation on the soul’s journey beyond the physical realm. Subzwari constructs richly imagined, mystical landscapes that seem to exist in an in-between state, echoing the Islamic concept of barzakh.

Unlike the Christian notion of purgatory, which is transformative and purificatory, barzakh is a space of suspension — a threshold where the soul awaits its eventual return to the Divine. Her paintings, therefore, are not about death in a literal sense, but about transition. About suspension. About the quiet choreography of souls in a space where time, identity and geography dissolve. This idea of waiting, of existing between states, permeates all the works.

In A Royal Welcome, a rhythmic and ordered procession of elongated, anonymous figures moves along the edge of a body of water. Drawing upon the flattened perspective and jewel-like precision of Mughal miniatures, Subzwari reorients this historical idiom towards the metaphysical. Identity dissolves in repetition — the figures become less individual and more like a presence, engaged in a silent, meditative circulation. The water here is not merely pictorial but is liminal, evoking a boundary that is both physical and spiritual.

At its centre blooms a lotus, an unexpected yet resonant symbol within a South Asian context, signifying transcendence and rebirth. Beneath this serene upper world, however, hot air balloons drift. Each distinct in colour, they read like an individual soul, buoyant and gently ascending, disrupting any sense of pastoral calm and reminding us of the vast unknowability of what lies beyond.

The balloons reappear in another painting, Garden Party, in which the upper half becomes even more otherworldly. The balloons — functioning as vessels of transition — populate a vast, open sky.

Another work, Jungle in the Clouds, shifts from movement to stillness. Set within an enclosed, garden-like space reminiscent of a Mughal bagh [garden], the composition feels intimate. A richly adorned elephant, evoking memory and wisdom, stands as a central, anchoring presence, bearing a small, ethereal figure that seems suspended between the human and the Divine. Opposite, a lone haloed figure raises a hand in what appears to be a gesture of recognition. Around them, a tiger resting yet alert, evokes latent power, yet it is not threatening — it coexists peacefully within this garden.

The peacock, often associated with beauty and vanity, but also immortality in various traditions, stands near water, invoking reflection and immortality. The garden itself becomes a metaphorical paradise, framed by an arch that functions as both a visual and conceptual threshold. Here, the sense of barzakh is no longer one of movement or waiting, but of dawning awareness — a moment where the veil is not fully lifted, but gently parted.

What is remarkable across these works is Subzwari’s ability to hold multiple symbolic systems in delicate balance — Islamic, South Asian and personal — without collapsing them into a singular narrative. Her paintings resist closure. Instead, they dwell in ambiguity, in suspension, in becoming.

‘Lands Beyond the Veil’ is thus not simply an exhibition about death, nor even about the afterlife. It is, more profoundly, about transition, about inhabiting the spaces between certainty and the unknown, presence and absence, grief and consolation. Through her evolving practice, Subzwari invites us not to look beyond the veil, but to pause within it.

‘Lands Beyond the Veil’ is on display at VM Art Gallery in Karachi from March 28-April 28, 2026

Rumana Husain is a writer, artist and educator. She is the author of two coffee-table books on Karachi, and has authored and illustrated 90 children’s books

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 12th, 2026

Echoes of History — Unheeded in Pakistan
By Asim Imdad
ILQA Publications
ISBN: 978-969-640-338-8
303pp.

Asim Imdad Ali, the author, explaining the reason for writing Echoes of History — Unheeded in Pakistan, says that some readers of his earlier works, Circular History of Pakistan and Blind Spots in Pakistan’s History, posed “insightful” questions. “How long [has it] been like this, walking around in circles? The short answer: it has been like this for a while now… Are we the only ones trapped in such a political predicament? The short answer is, astonishingly, no.”

He seems to imply that, in Pakistan, instead of gaining objective lessons from history, we tend to beat around the bush and hide behind fables, while repeating our mistakes again and again.

Ali pursued postgraduate education at the School of Law at King’s College London, completed a master’s degree in Public Administration at the Harvard Kennedy School and served in the Pakistan Administrative Service.

The first thing that grabs the reader’s attention in Echoes of History is its outstanding English. In fact, while the highbrow, rich vocabulary and the substantial use of unique, uncommon diction make the book remarkable in the literary sense, on occasion it distracts the reader from the chain of the narrative, the flow of thought and the continuity of the case being made by the author, like a stream which disappears under the soil only to re-emerge on its subsequent course. To comprehend the articulation of arguments in this book requires effort, if not struggle, to connect the dots.

A recent book attempts to decode the patterns of power and politics in Pakistan by connecting these dynamics with examples from ancient and modern world history

Similarly, the proliferation of hundreds of impressive quotations — from William Shakespeare, Aristotle, Sigmund Freud, Niccolo Machiavelli, Rudyard Kipling, Sun Yat-sen, George Orwell, Victor Hugo, Karl Marx and innumerable others — is another challenge a reader has to confront to place the arguments in perspective vis-à-vis the book’s subject.

Notwithstanding the above remarks, Ali offers an uncommon perspective on history and mythology to describe the reverberations of history that have been disregarded in Pakistan, albeit in a hyperbolic manner. Although he often paraphrases what we mostly know in Pakistan and read all the time about the political culture and turmoil, he takes the trouble to connect these dynamics with patterns and examples from ancient and modern world history.

For instance, in a section titled ‘Cultology’, he discusses the fate of cult figures such as Adolf Hitler, who committed suicide along with his mistress, and Benito Mussolini, who was executed by Italian partisans and his body, along with that of his mistress, was hung upside down publicly at a petrol station in Milan.

It transpires, according to the author, that historically there is only one model of control: the ancient, classic one of ruling through the force of might, money and the authority of the state. The names and titles have been changing, but the general infrastructure remains an oligarchy of families, syndicates (mafias) and elitism.

“The generals and commanders in their uniforms (potentates), the politicians with their electoral badges, business barons with deep pockets and even deeper connections (princes), judges in their black robes and the media moguls wielding digitally empowered usernames (prelates), all serve as modern masks for age-old archetypes,” he writes.

Ali discerns that, despite evolving law, judiciary and justice in a state to replace violent revenge, states still resort to the old culture of violence. Man never changes his passions and desires. That is why he doesn’t learn from history, because he is not guided by knowledge and intellect but by his heart.

“Like many states, Pakistan is governed by an oligarchy of one percent (or even less),” he asserts. “Power remains lucratively locked in the hands of potentates, princes and prelates. The totem pole is clear: the men on horseback still hectoringly call the shots. This has been our core model of governance for centuries. We perform rituals of horizontal power shifts — new faces, same hierarchy.

“Some other groups have attempted veritable vertical redistribution to at least get a second chance (however fleeting) in the race of life. Not us. Our 99 percent is excluded from every critical decision. That is the root of public angst. If the meek have but a slim chance of inheriting the earth elsewhere, what hope do they really have in Pakistan? Perhaps even less — and should their turn come, it will likely arrive later than anywhere else.”

He describes well-known realities such as military rule behind elected governments, dynastic politics and the emergence of the business/industrial class as rulers, as well as the role of the judiciary as their collaborator. But in more flowery language and complicated diction.

In the chapter ‘No Revolution in Subcontinent’, Ali analyses why the Indian Subcontinent has never experienced a true revolution. He argues that there has never been a popular uprising that led to fundamental vertical change in societal structure and power dynamics. He differentiates a ‘revolution’ from revolts, rebellions, the toppling of monarchs and invasions. A revolution brings vertical changes, while the rest of the upheavals are basically horizontal shifts of power.

He believes three factors stand as the reason for the absence of a revolutionary “groundswell” in the history of the Indian Subcontinent. One, a lack of urban density due to the dominant, widely spread-out and loosely linked villages. Two, a superficial “transfer of power” at the time of decolonisation. And, three, a deeply held belief in predestination among the populace.

Referring to the French Revolution of 1789, he writes: “The distinction between revolts and revolutions may not carry the same weight that it once did for the king who lost his head over confusing the two [mistaking the revolution for a revolt], but it is crucial when evaluating underlying motives, manifestos and machinations of those who seek our consent, contribution and cash for their grand plans, proposals and policies.”

Echoes of History — Unheeded in Pakistan can be an effective academic textbook for higher studies in the history of power tussles. However, it may not be as handy for a general readership.

The reviewer is a freelance writer and translator.

He can be reached at mehwer@yahoo.com

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

Trouble in the streets of Kuala Lumpur

This concerns the story “Trouble in the streets of Kuala Lumpur” by Huzaifa Shaikh (YW, February 21). The message in the story comes across in a slightly indirect way.

On the surface, it felt like a suspenseful and dramatic experience, but underneath that, it highlighted how quickly situations can change, especially when you are in an unfamiliar place.

The story showed that even in a city that seemed safe, beautiful and welcoming, one careless moment, like trusting a stranger too quickly, can lead to danger. It quietly reminds readers to stay alert and cautious, no matter where they are.

At the end, the sudden return home brought a sense of relief, almost as if the whole experience was a harsh wake-up call. It reflected the idea that home is a place of safety and comfort, something we often take for granted until we face something unpleasant.

Abdul Haadi
Karachi

II

I liked the story “Trouble in the streets of Kuala Lumpur” by Huzaifa Shaikh. The writer built an interesting atmosphere, especially with the details of the city, the food and the busy streets, which made the later incident in the story feel even more unexpected and dramatic.

The contrast between the peaceful description of Kuala Lumpur earlier and the sudden danger later was quite striking.

Bilal Hussain
Sukkur

More than the class joker

This is regarding the story “More than the class joker” by Mahnoor Sohail (YW, February 21). It was an interesting story that reflected how people are often judged by what is visible, like their humour, popularity or success. However, their real struggles remain hidden.

The writer reminded readers that behind someone’s smile there can be responsibilities, pain and sacrifices that others know nothing about. It also encouraged readers to be more understanding and less quick to assume that everyone’s life is easy.

Sara Nadeem
Islamabad

The amazing world of caves

I really loved reading the cover article “The amazing world of caves” by Shahmeer Asif (YW, February 28). The article was full of interesting information about caves that we hardly know about.

All the caves mentioned were so unique and one of a kind that I was amazed to learn about them. I request the YW team to publish more informative articles like this that tell us about unusual places around the world.

Jawad Ahmed
Sukkur

Published in Dawn, Young World, April 11th, 2026