I have always been drawn to Urdu literature. The melancholy verses of Mir Taqi Mir, the revolutionary vision of Iqbal, the heart-touching ghazals of Faiz Ahmad Faiz, and the delicate romance of Parveen Shakir have all been my companions. But Urdu literature has never only belonged to poets; its richness also lies in the short stories of Saadat Hasan Manto, Ismat Chughtai, Rajinder Singh Bedi, and Qurratulain Hyder. Each of them used stories to give voice to what society often hides.

 

In the recently concluded Chinar Festival, as I browsed through the book stalls, I came across a slim volume with an evocative title: راکھ میں دبی چنگاری (Raakh Mn Dabi Chingari) by Nasreen Hamza. The book is published by the Khusro Foundation (2025), priced very modestly at Rs. 100, and runs across 100 pages, containing a collection of short stories. At first glance, it looks like a small book. But as the saying goes, “sometimes the smallest boxes hold the brightest sparks.” And that is exactly what Hamza’s stories feel like—sparks hidden under layers of ash.

 

 Raakh Mn Dabi Chingari (A Spark Hidden in Ashes) is not just a poetic phrase; it is a metaphor for suppressed truths, muffled cries, and unspoken desires. Each story in the collection seems to live up to this imagery—there is always a flame underneath, a quiet restlessness, something burning to be free.

 

This is where Hamza shows her sensitivity as a storyteller. She does not present her characters as extraordinary heroes or martyrs. Instead, she writes of ordinary men and women—people we may see in our neighbourhoods, our families, or even in ourselves—who carry unexpressed pain and unacknowledged dreams. The ashes are their everyday lives; the spark is their inner strength, longing, or protest. READ MORE