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NON-FICTION: KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON, AGAIN

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Jus’ Gistin’
By Imran Sheikh
Self-published
ISBN: 978-969-23922-1-1
pp. 150

It was about two years ago that I reviewed a book with the intriguing title The Past is Another Country for these pages. Authored by Imran Sheikh, it was a slim volume, comprising a series of episodes from his life while growing up in Pakistan and, later, working overseas. They were snapshots of a bygone era, recounted with incomparable charm and enthusiasm.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book — it had a wonderfully upbeat rhythm, and fluctuated back and forth between funny and downright hilarious. There was a distinct old-school P.G. Wodehouse inspiration at work, along with occasional chapters that hinted at the deeper truths of life. My only complaint at that time was that the book, clocking in at just over 100 pages, was too short. The sojourn was over much too soon and the reader was left with a palpable sense of disappointment.

After the book review came out, I was fortunate enough to talk to Sheikh a couple of times on the phone, and I strongly urged him to write a follow-up. He chuckled at the time, and said that he had written the book in support of a charitable venture and, while he appreciated the suggestion, he was much too busy for a serious project like that again.

It was, therefore, a wonderfully pleasant surprise when recently, out of the blue, I received a message from him that not only has a follow-up already been written but, even better, would I be able to review it? My answer, of course, was in the affirmative. The book, Jus’ Gistin’ arrived in the mail a few days later.

A follow-up to one man’s recounting of whimsical stories from his life retains the original’s wit and nostalgic narration of an era gone by

The title was a headscratcher. I imagined that the word ‘Gistin’’ meant to get to the root of something, the essence, the ‘gist’. But not so. Sheikh traces its origins to Nigeria — he has several adventures in that country, described in the book — where ‘gistin’’ refers to casual conversation, to gossip. He elaborates: “When I first heard the word ‘gistin’’, I asked a Nigerian friend what it meant. He looked at me in surprise and said, ‘It be yabbin’ back hand ‘bout dis ‘n’ dat.’ Of course, it is, and it served me right for asking!

In the context of this book, jus’ gistin’ might as well be a spin on ‘just jesting.’ I recall the first book had hooked me with the cautionary warning on the blurb: “If you have picked this book up looking for good advice, or wisdom of any kind, put it down immediately. It offers none.” And then the unforgettable opening lines: “A Persian proverb, roughly translated, says: ‘It is better to be a dog than a younger brother.’ My sister had both.”

This book follows in the tradition — on the back cover Sheikh declaims with signature wit: “After The Past is Another Country, I swore I would never write another book. This is that book.”

Jus’ Gistin’ repeats the winning formula of its predecessor. It is a slim and compact volume, comprising a series of episodes drawn from the author’s own life, briskly narrated with a twinkle in the eye and a balance of wit, wisdom and alacrity, which comes across as entirely natural. The stories again range across all walks of life up to the present day.

Sheikh calls upon childhood memories to walk us through the rituals and associated drama of Pakistani family weddings, the myriad politics of neighbourhood cricket, and the complex intricacies of kite warfare during Basant. As a young man, he documents the nail-biting suspense of tracking horse races at Jail Road and the vagaries of romance and courtship.

In England during his studies, he plays county cricket, busks on London trains and wrestles with racist white men. With a professional engineering degree, he works on large-scale industrial projects in Pakistan and in Africa, rubbing shoulders with diplomats and politicians as well as workers in the field. As a father, he takes his children hiking in Pakistan’s northern areas. Adventures abound, every story has a twist, a laugh and a message.

As before, there is a riotous cast of characters in these pages: leading the lot is Gama, the hulking village pehlwan [bodybuilder/wrestler] who later changes careers to become a tactless chauffeur. There is Gogi, the invincible squash player. We have the heartbroken cousin who haunts his beloved’s wedding and a nameless ‘expert’ who mentors the author and his friends at the horse races. There is Henry, the majordomo who fights snakes in Nigeria and many others.

The stories veer from the comical to the hilarious, occasionally changing gears to the sombre and tragic. There is the young assistant commissioner from Faisalabad, who faces a charged mob during the Partition riots. There are also encounters with the supernatural and the otherworldly.

In all of these stories, we see glimpses of a Pakistan that could have been, encapsulated moments, as if frozen in time, from a past which seems tantalisingly close even as it hovers infinitely distant from us. Sheikh turns a contemplative eye in several of these stories, even in the humorous ones, and there is a deeper subtext in there. We get a sense of kinder and gentler times, of alternate realities, of what Pakistan could have been, before everything fell apart.

But even in these stories, if one reads between the lines, one can discern hints of Pakistan’s fall from grace. There are signs of a slow yet certain decline: increasing religious intolerance, tribal rivalries, a general apathy and more. The chapters on African countries, particularly Nigeria, speak of typical Third-World problems, of elite capture, decadence, opulence, bureaucratic mismanagement and petty politics. These accounts are startlingly familiar — recounting events from decades past on distant shores, these stories would fit right in place in the pages of our own local papers today.

This book is the perfect companion to The Past is Another Country. It is more of the same, and that is exactly what we had been asking for. Sheikh has tapped into a rich vein of nostalgia, which he mines masterfully with effortless ease. The only complaint I would have, again, is the old one: at 150 pages, this book is only slightly bigger than its predecessor and, again, it is over before one realises it.

The logical thing to do, of course, is to request one more instalment — a third and final volume, to make things complete. A trilogy, a record of a life well lived and shared.

The reviewer teaches at the NUST School of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, Islamabad.

He can be reached at taha.ali@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, January 25th, 2026



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SMOKERS’ CORNER: MIRACLES AND MATERIALITY

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A recent video showing a Quran that survived the devastating fire at Karachi’s Gul Plaza has reignited a centuries-old conversation. Throughout history, accounts of Bibles, Qurans or Buddhist sutras emerging unscathed from catastrophic floods and fires have been celebrated as Divine interventions. While these events offer profound spiritual solace, a closer look reveals a fascinating intersection of material physics and psychological bias.

From a physical standpoint, Dougal Drysdale, Professor Emeritus at the University of Edinburgh, suggests that a hardbound book’s survival is often due to the ‘Closed Book Effect.’ When shut, a book functions as a dense, oxygen-starved block of cellulose. Because fire requires a steady flow of oxygen to consume fuel, the tightly packed pages resist ignition by preventing airflow from reaching the interior.

In the event of a flood, the surface tension of water against tightly pressed pages creates a natural barrier. This prevents deep seepage for a significant period, often leaving the heart of the book perfectly dry.

American psychologist Thomas Gilovich explains that when a sacred text survives a disaster, it often becomes more than just a book. It is elevated to a sacred relic. This transformation, according to Gilovich, can significantly redefine a community’s cultural path. In the aftermath of the 2011 Joplin tornado in Missouri, US, survivors and news outlets frequently highlighted the ‘miraculous’ discovery of intact Bibles among the rubble of flattened homes.

The survival of holy texts in the aftermath of natural catastrophes is often termed ‘Divine protection’, revealing the cultural and spiritual narratives people love to attach to such instances

While hardbound dictionaries and cookbooks likely survived in the same ruins due to their similar physical construction, these secular items were ignored by the media as mere debris. The surviving Bibles were immediately elevated from functional reading material to sacred relics, often being framed and displayed as symbols of Divine protection.

By focusing on these specific books, the media triggered a cognitive bias that led people to view the event through a supernatural lens rather than recognising the simple physical durability of bound paper.

British scholar Susan Whitfield, in her 2004 work The Silk Road: Trade, Travel, War and Faith, details the discovery of the Mogao Caves in China. In that instance, the sealing of the Buddhist text the Diamond Sutra (868 CE) within a dry, walled-up chamber created a “natural vault” that protected the world’s oldest-dated printed book from the degrading effects of humidity and oxygen for nearly a millennium. The perception of such objects often shifts from the literary to the ‘miraculous’.

During World War I, pocket Bibles carried by soldiers occasionally stopped shrapnel due to the high density of their compressed paper. This led many soldiers to treat the Bibles as protective talismans.

The Codex Amiatinus, frequently referred to as the ‘Grandfather’ of Latin Bibles, has survived for over 1,300 years due to its immense physical durability. According to Drysdale, this enormous volume, created around 700 CE in Northumbria, England, weighs over 34 kilogrammes and was crafted from the skins of more than 500 calves.

The use of high-quality parchment makes the Bible significantly more resistant to fire and decay, as organic animal skins lack the highly flammable, oxygen-trapping fibres found in wood-pulp paper. This Bible remained virtually untouched for a millennium, preserved by the stable environment of an Italian abbey that served as a ‘natural vault.’

In West Africa, the Desert Manuscripts of Timbuktu offer a compelling example of texts surviving environmental factors, a story often framed as miraculous. When Islamist militants set fire to the Ahmed Baba Institute in 2013, there was widespread global concern over the potential loss of thousands of ancient Islamic manuscripts. However, according to the researcher Mauro Nobili, the extreme aridity of the Sahara desert was critical in aiding their preservation for centuries.

The persistently low humidity prevented mould growth and kept the delicate ink stable, allowing for their long-term survival, which many viewed as a modern miracle. However, the more vulnerable manuscripts were secretly shifted to safer locations before the militants set fire to the Ahmed Baba Institute.

During the Viking raid on Lindisfarne — a tidal island off the northeast coast of England — in 793 CE, a legend emerged concerning a sacred book, Lindisfarne Gospels, which was said to have been dropped into the sea by fleeing priests. Three days later, it washed up perfectly dry. While this specific account is often considered apocryphal, the physical survival of such ancient texts is frequently due to their durable leather and metal bindings, which act as a protective shell for the internal vellum.

Gilovich would point to stories such as this ‘dry’ recovery of a Bible as prime examples of how the media and oral tradition prioritise miraculous narratives over the mundane reality of material science, thereby reinforcing spiritual beliefs.

According to the prominent professor of psychological sciences J. Park, communities frequently transform these survival stories into powerful symbols of “Divine protection” as a means of processing the profound trauma of disasters. This phenomenon ultimately highlights a dynamic intersection, where material science meets deep human sentiment.

While the inherent fire-resistant properties of vellum offer logical, scientific explanations for the physical survival of many books, the human psychological element remains paramount. The inherent human need to find order, meaning and hope within chaos is what elevates these surviving sacred objects from mere material items to vital spiritual anchors for a community’s recovery and continuity.

The endurance of these texts represents a profound intersection between material science and human psychology. It is not merely the density of vellum, the chemical stability of ancient inks or the aridity of a desert that ensures survival. Rather, it is the way these physical realities interact with our inherent drive to find order in the wake of destruction.

Gilovich’s research posits that when a community witnesses the survival of a sacred text, they are not simply observing a quirk of physics. They are engaging in what Park describes as “meaning-making”, using the survived sacred object to process trauma and reclaim a sense of ‘Divine protection.’ Whether through the preservation of the Diamond Sutra in caves, or a Bible or a Quran found amidst the ruins of a modern disaster, these serve as a bridge between the tangible and the transcendent. Their survival is a testament to the fact that, while fire and time may consume the material, the cultural and spiritual narratives we attach to them remain indestructible.

Yet, it is equally important that we recognise the physical realities of their endurance, acknowledging that the science of material durability does not diminish the ‘miracle’, but rather provides a rational foundation for understanding how the written word survives the very elements meant to destroy it.

Published in Dawn, EOS, February 1st, 2026



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GARDENING: SWISS ONLY IN NAME

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The colour of the mid ribs and stem often determines the name of the variety | Photos courtesy the writer
The colour of the mid ribs and stem often determines the name of the variety | Photos courtesy the writer

Different varieties of leafy green vegetables (locally known as saag) are commonly grown in the Subcontinent due to the favourable growing conditions here. These green vegetables are prepared in traditional meals that contain the signature South Asian touch. However, Swiss chard remains relatively unknown to many.

Swiss chard is one of the easiest-to-grow leafy green vegetables. Unlike other leafy green vegetables, Swiss chard has beautiful bright green-coloured leaves with white, yellow or maroon midribs and stem. No wonder that a few sub-varieties of the Swiss chard are referred to as rainbow chard!

It is also known as spinach beet and leaf beet, while other names reflect the colour of its stems. For instance, the ones with white midribs are referred to as silver beet and those with red or maroon stems are known as rhubarb chard. Its striking colour combinations make it attractive enough as an ornamental plant.

Scientifically known as Beta vulgaris L. var. cicla, Swiss chard belongs to the Amaranthaceae family, which was formerly known as the Chenopodiaceae family. While it is also considered a beet, its root is inedible. Due to its close resemblance to spinach and beet root, it is not recommended to grow Swiss chard near either of them. Pests and diseases affecting beet root and spinach will likely attack Swiss chard as well.

While many other types of saag dominate South Asian kitchens, Swiss chard — of Mediterranean origin — remains largely unknown here…

Contrary to its name, Swiss chard does not originate from Switzerland. The origin of the ‘Swiss’ prefix remains contentious. One theory is that it is widely grown in Switzerland. In fact, Swiss chard primarily originates from the Mediterranean region. However, it is extensively used in Swiss cuisine.

Another theory is that the botanist who first classified this vegetable was Swiss and used the prefix to create a distinction from other leafy vegetables. The most common theory is that the European seed merchants added Swiss to distinguish it from the closely related French chard. If that were not enough to confuse you all, the word ‘chard’ is of Latin origin, meaning thistle — a common gardening term referring to a flowering plant which has prickly bracts.

Swiss chard seeds resemble those of spinach
Swiss chard seeds resemble those of spinach

Swiss chard seeds are easily confused with those of spinach, due to their stark resemblance. The seeds of Swiss chard are faded brown to dark brown in colour. They have a dry, rough texture and are irregular in shape. The seeds are hard and are surprisingly light for their size. Like spinach, one seed of Swiss chard can result in three to four seedlings. For this reason, it is known as a seed ball, containing potentially three to four seeds.

Being hardy, Swiss chard has minimal requirements. One of the best aspects about sowing Swiss chard seeds is that they can be grown in almost any available space. You can grow it on a strip of land, small pots and even around other plants in the same pot. However, when sowing Swiss chard seeds for a full crop, certain aspects should be taken into account.

In climates similar to Karachi, the seeds can be sown from mid-October onwards or when the temperature falls to 20 degrees Celsius. The potting mix should be pre-moistened and clear of pebbles and stones. Seeds should be placed half an inch below the surface and covered with a layer of compost. The soil should remain moist, not wet.

Depending on the desired yield, any pot size can be used, since the roots are small. Pots should then be placed in a cool shade with indirect sunlight. If the Swiss chard plant is being grown in an open field or in raised beds, it should be shielded from direct sunlight exposure, to minimise evaporation.

Some gardeners prefer to soak the seeds in water for four to six hours to ensure better and quick germination. In favourable conditions, Swiss chard seeds are likely to sprout within one week to 10 days.

Please send your queries and emails to doctree101@hotmail.com. The writer is a physician and a host for the YouTube channel ‘DocTree Gardening’ promoting organic kitchen gardening

Published in Dawn, EOS, February 1st, 2026



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ADVICE: AUNTIE AGNI

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Dear Auntie,
Hope you are well. I am seeking your advice regarding a situation that has been bothering me for a long time. I’m a university student and I met this girl. She seemed very interested in me at that time and so was I in her. We had great chemistry, something I’ve never felt in my life. But I never confessed my feelings to her because of certain things I heard about her. Later, I found out she was dating someone. I internalised my love for her for quite a long time, almost a year, until I couldn’t hold it in, and confessed everything to her, even though I knew she was in a relationship.

The nature of my work requires me to face her and, whenever we work together, that chemistry-like muscle memory hits like a truck and I fall head over heels for her all over again. Even though getting her is nothing but a distant dream, I still can’t get over her and long for her all the time. It’s like a stalemate. I would really appreciate your advice on this.
Longing and Yearning

‘I Am Obsessed With a Woman I Can’t Have’

Dear Longing and Yearning,
This is a classic case of excellent chemistry but bad timing. Auntie has seen this film before and the hero always thinks that this one love is ‘different’. Maybe it is different for you. But the situation is very, very old.

Let’s start with the fact that you don’t want to face… that this is not love. This is emotional attachment, mixed with a heavy dose of imagination. And it is a powerful mix, made more powerful because the person in question is unavailable.

Every time you see her, your brain tells you “Ah yes, the unfinished business.” But notice something important… the girl chose someone else. This was not because you are not good enough, but because her life moved in a different direction. That is her choice, and chasing emotionally after someone who has chosen another path slowly kills your self-respect.

The chemistry you talk about is a result of you training your mind for a year to revolve around her. Of course, your brain runs back there. Our minds do what seems familiar and comfortable. Right now, you are feeding the feeling every time you replay moments and analyse your interactions with her. You are emotionally investing in a door that is firmly shut and you are wondering why you feel stuck outside. Of course, you are stuck!

It is time to start acting professionally with her. And it is time to stop any emotional conversations with her and avoid needless eye-contact. When your mind starts romanticising anything about her, interrupt it with reality, by reminding yourself that she is in a relationship and that you deserve someone who is available.

The person who is meant for you will not require this much suffering just to exist in your life. Mutual love is supposed to feel stable.

You are not losing her. You are grieving a life that you imagined. The grief will pass when you stop feeding it. You are simply holding on to an illusion because it once felt beautiful. Just let it be beautiful. And let it go.

Disclaimer: If you or someone you know is in crisis and/or feeling suicidal, please go to your nearest emergency room and seek medical help immediately.

Auntie will not reply privately to any query. Please send concise queries to: auntieagni@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, February 1st, 2026



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