Issues
← Back to all issuesGranta 112: Pakistan
Autumn 2010
Filled with almost 200 million people speaking nearly sixty languages, brought into nationhood under the auspices of a single religion, but wracked with deep separatist fissures and the destabilizing forces of ongoing conflicts in Iran, Afghanistan and Kashmir, Pakistan is one of the most dynamic places in the world today.
From this Issue
Fiction|Granta 112
Fiction|Granta 112
Leila in the Wilderness
Nadeem Aslam
‘It was almost involuntary: it felt like falling, or like rising in a dream.’
Poetry|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Kashmir’s Forever War
Basharat Peer
‘Yes, the gun was from Pakistan, but the stones are our own. That is our only weapon against the occupation.’
Poetry|Granta 112
Poetry|Granta 112
Trying Tripe
Daniyal Mueenuddin
Three months this man’s been off the farm – go back now, back to diesel,...
Fiction|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
The House by the Gallows
Intizar Hussain
‘Along with religion, an unthinking nationalism had become the other god of Pakistan.’
Fiction|Granta 112
Fiction|Granta 112
Butt and Bhatti
Mohammad Hanif
‘Teddy is one of those people who are only articulate when they talk about cricket.’
Art & Photography|Granta 112
Art & Photography|Granta 112
High Noon
Green Cardamom
For the visual essay in Granta112: Pakistan, we collaborated with Green Cardamom – an organisation which focuses on international contemporary art viewed from an Indian Ocean perspective. With their help, we selected fourteen prominent figures from the contemporary art scene in Pakistan, and reproduced their work in the magazine.
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Arithmetic on the Frontier
Declan Walsh
‘These days the tempest of Taliban violence ripping across the frontier has shaken Peshawar to its core.’
Poetry|Granta 112
Poetry|Granta 112
Life and Time
Hasina Gul
We grow up but do not comprehend life. We think life is just the passing...
Fiction|Granta 112
Fiction|Granta 112
A Beheading
Mohsin Hamid
‘The words are just dribbling out of my mouth. I can’t stop them. They’re like tears.’
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Pop Idols
Kamila Shamsie
‘In our grandmother’s generation, when people became more religious, they turned devout. Now they turn fundamentalist.’
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Mangho Pir
Fatima Bhutto
‘Although they lived in the shadows, they refused to go unnoticed.’
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
White Girls
Sarfraz Manzoor
‘Not drinking was disastrous for my love life.’
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
Essays & Memoir|Granta 112
The Trials of Faisal Shahzad
Lorraine Adams & Ayesha Nasir
Pulitzer Prize-winning American journalist Lorraine Adams and Pakistani reporter Ayesha Nasir examine the life of Faisal Shahzad, the Pakistani-American who attempted to detonate a massive car bomb in New York’s Times Square.
Fiction|Granta 112
The Online Edition
In Conversation|The Online Edition
Kseniya Melnik | Interview
Ollie Brock & Kseniya Melnik
‘I wanted to write a story about the levels of pain, the ways people describe and explain sickness, and to what lengths they go to find a cure.’
Fiction|The Online Edition
The Witch
Kseniya Melnik
‘They hide in the hollows of the heart, warming themselves in the downy scarf of the child’s soul, leaking poisons of old hurt.’
In Conversation|The Online Edition
Bani Abidi | Interview
Bani Abidi & Saskia Vogel
‘I prefer to engage with things I may or may not find important at my own discretion, and feel a bit throttled by the world’s anxious curiosity about Pakistan.’
Poetry|The Online Edition
All the Good Help
Togara Muzanenhamo
‘He will not understand her fascination / for rain, these summer months of water / that somehow keep the money coming in.’
Essays & Memoir|The Online Edition
Bradistan
Zaiba Malik
‘I knew I was Pakistani long before I knew I was English, just as I knew I was Muslim long before I knew I was British.’
In Conversation|The Online Edition
Daniyal Mueenuddin | Interview
Daniyal Mueenuddin
‘Great translations are much rarer than great works of fiction or poetry.’
Essays & Memoir|The Online Edition
Six Snapshots of Partition
John Siddique
‘He hands me my inheritance: a box of conversations. Fragments of memory, blank spaces, things which there are no words for.’
In Conversation|The Online Edition
The National Language
Uzma Aslam Khan & Aamer Hussein
‘It gives me two languages to play with in my writing. It also gives me two languages to love and curse in.’
Essays & Memoir|The Online Edition
Where to Begin
Nadeem Aslam
‘Pages five, six and seven make her into a Pakistani, but for the first four pages she is nothing but a human being.’
Essays & Memoir|The Online Edition
How to Write About Pakistan
Various Contributors
‘Fundamentalist mangoes must have more texture; secular mangoes should have artificial flavouring.’
Essays & Memoir|The Online Edition
Road to Chitral
Azhar Abidi
‘I wonder sometimes when this cycle of violence began. When was year zero?’
Art & Photography|The Online Edition
Pakistan: Introduction
An animation inspired by Granta's Pakistan issue.
Essays & Memoir|The Online Edition
Power Failure
Bina Shah
‘And it’s not just the heat – it’s the humidity, that succubus that pushes the heat index up by ten degrees, makes the roads shimmer with sultry mirages.’
Fiction|The Online Edition
The Dog of Ṭeṭvāl
Saadat Hasan Manto
‘For some time now, the two sides had been entrenched in their positions on the front.’
Art & Photography|The Online Edition
Pakistani truck art
Islam Gull
‘Truck artists transform village rickshaws, city buses and commercial trucks into a procession of moving colour.’
Essays & Memoir|The Online Edition
Ants of Accra
Nii Ayikwei Parkes
‘Ants became an obsession with her – she darted with them as they changed paths, watched them find their way around obstacles placed in their way.’
Essays & Memoir|The Online Edition
Finding Nusrat
Janine di Giovanni
‘We sat for sometime, and I found after a while that there was little I could say.’