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City on Fire: A Boyhood in Aligarh
Zeyad Masroor Khan was four years old when he realized that an innocent act of clicking a switch near a window overlooking the street could trigger a riot. As the distant thud of a crowd grew closer and calls for murder rent the air, he got his first taste of growing up in Upar Kot, a Muslim ghetto in Aligarh. Khan's world was far-removed from the Aligarh of popular imagination-of poets, tehzeeb and the intellectual corridors of the Aligarh Muslim University. His was a city where serpentine lanes simmered with violence, homes fervently prayed to dispel the omnipresent fear of a family member turning up dead, and the soft breeze that blew over crowded terraces carried rumours of a bloodthirsty mob on the prowl.
In his coming-of-age memoir, Khan writes, with searing honesty and raw power, about the undercurrents of religious violence and the ensuing 'othering' that followed him everywhere he went: from his schooldays in Aligarh, when hopping over to the lending library to the 'Hindu' part of town to find his favourite comic book or lighting candles with neighbours on Diwali was fraught with tension; through his years as a college student in Delhi, where being denied apartments because of his name was the norm; to ultimately becoming a journalist documenting history of his country as it happened.
City on Fire is a rare, visceral portrait of how everyday violence and hate become a part of our lives and consciousness; a society where name and clothes mark out a person as the 'other'. It is as much an incisive examination of religion and violence, imagined histories and fractured realities, grief and love in today's India, as it is a paean to the hope of continued unity, to an idea of India.
In his coming-of-age memoir, Khan writes, with searing honesty and raw power, about the undercurrents of religious violence and the ensuing 'othering' that followed him everywhere he went: from his schooldays in Aligarh, when hopping over to the lending library to the 'Hindu' part of town to find his favourite comic book or lighting candles with neighbours on Diwali was fraught with tension; through his years as a college student in Delhi, where being denied apartments because of his name was the norm; to ultimately becoming a journalist documenting history of his country as it happened.
City on Fire is a rare, visceral portrait of how everyday violence and hate become a part of our lives and consciousness; a society where name and clothes mark out a person as the 'other'. It is as much an incisive examination of religion and violence, imagined histories and fractured realities, grief and love in today's India, as it is a paean to the hope of continued unity, to an idea of India.
348 pages, Kindle Edition
Published December 6, 2023
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237 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 30 reviews
January 14, 2025
Once again necks have lolled, heads have been chopped off
People have been divided, and their gods too
Asked my name...I am scared
Who does one worship... I am scared
So many times I have been hung from a scaffold by some people
Awaken, awaken, stay awake..." - Gulzar
Zeyad Masroor Khan's account of growing up in the religious hotpot of Aligarh has been both an intriguing and worrisome thing to read. It didn't take him a long time to understand the dynamics between the many people who lived in the Upar Kot of Aligarh. The neighbouring communities were friendly enough during easy days but unreliable on the days when riots broke out. From realising how a simple button hanging from a wire at his home carried the power to wake up an entire community in case of a riot to witness the many losses of his neighbouring brothers, Zeyad grew up to be able journalist.
Zeyad's unflinching account of how it is to live as a Muslim back in the 90s and even decades later when he moved to Delhi, has both saddened and infuriated me. As I read about the many strangers who lost their lives for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, my heart hardened with some inexplicable grief. This memoir comes at a time when religious persecutions are at a raise, when human lives are devalued in the name of religion. To sit from a place of privilege and to watch the country turn into an unfamiliar land and to read stories of people whose lives are never safe, I feel great distress.
But amidst all this, there is still a little bit of hope. Hope that the mankind will prevail by overlooking caste, race and religion. That brotherhood and friendship will surpass all the labels. That the city on fire will eventually be doused with love.
People have been divided, and their gods too
Asked my name...I am scared
Who does one worship... I am scared
So many times I have been hung from a scaffold by some people
Awaken, awaken, stay awake..." - Gulzar
Zeyad Masroor Khan's account of growing up in the religious hotpot of Aligarh has been both an intriguing and worrisome thing to read. It didn't take him a long time to understand the dynamics between the many people who lived in the Upar Kot of Aligarh. The neighbouring communities were friendly enough during easy days but unreliable on the days when riots broke out. From realising how a simple button hanging from a wire at his home carried the power to wake up an entire community in case of a riot to witness the many losses of his neighbouring brothers, Zeyad grew up to be able journalist.
Zeyad's unflinching account of how it is to live as a Muslim back in the 90s and even decades later when he moved to Delhi, has both saddened and infuriated me. As I read about the many strangers who lost their lives for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, my heart hardened with some inexplicable grief. This memoir comes at a time when religious persecutions are at a raise, when human lives are devalued in the name of religion. To sit from a place of privilege and to watch the country turn into an unfamiliar land and to read stories of people whose lives are never safe, I feel great distress.
But amidst all this, there is still a little bit of hope. Hope that the mankind will prevail by overlooking caste, race and religion. That brotherhood and friendship will surpass all the labels. That the city on fire will eventually be doused with love.
April 16, 2024
The care and humour infused into this memoir is unparalleled. Thank you, Zeyad for taking me through your world – Aligarh is indeed rich in its stories. May peace prevail.
As a bonus, do listen to his interview on Anurag Minus Verma podcast.
As a bonus, do listen to his interview on Anurag Minus Verma podcast.
February 4, 2024
In India, the threads of Hindu and Muslim communities often intertwine in a complex dance of unity and discord. The aftermath of partition painted this dance in shades of deep sorrow, leaving scars that generations continue to bear. I, on the other hand was always interested to learn the morbid history from both perpectives, which tempted me to unearth whether "City on Fire" would perpetuate a trope of presenting Muslims on the perennial losing end. To my delight, I stand dutifully corrected.
In the shadowed heart of Aligarh, where sunlight plays hide-and-seek with crumbling buildings, lies Upar Kot. Forget the romanticized tales of poets and scholars; this is a different reality. Violence simmers beneath the surface, its heat felt even in the scent of spices wafting from bustling kitchens. Fear clings to the air, heavy and constant, like the whispers of hate-filled mobs carried on the wind.
But amidst the shadows, life pulses with an unexpected beauty. Laughter bursts from overflowing rooftops, echoing down narrow lanes filled with children chasing dreams. This is the Upar Kot that Zeyad Masroor Khan paints in "City on Fire," not as a canvas of pain, but as a testament to the unyielding spirit. It's a story that tugs at your heartstrings, reminding you that even in the grimmest corners, resilience blooms like a stubborn wildflower.
Now... for the writing, It's just beautiful. As a fellow Indian, picking up "City on Fire" felt like stepping into a familiar, yet unsettling, alleyway. The echo of communal tensions, the simmering fear, the whispers of hate – resonated in a way that sent shivers down my spine. But here's the beauty - the author doesn't shy away from the harsh realities, he humanizes everyone – Hindus and Muslims alike. It's not a sob story, but a vibrant picture woven with laughter, tears, and raw anger. I found myself wincing at the ever-present fear and fuming at the societal ills that plague these tightly knit lanes. It's a story that will stay with you long after the last page, a story that whispers, "We are more alike than we think." :)
In the shadowed heart of Aligarh, where sunlight plays hide-and-seek with crumbling buildings, lies Upar Kot. Forget the romanticized tales of poets and scholars; this is a different reality. Violence simmers beneath the surface, its heat felt even in the scent of spices wafting from bustling kitchens. Fear clings to the air, heavy and constant, like the whispers of hate-filled mobs carried on the wind.
But amidst the shadows, life pulses with an unexpected beauty. Laughter bursts from overflowing rooftops, echoing down narrow lanes filled with children chasing dreams. This is the Upar Kot that Zeyad Masroor Khan paints in "City on Fire," not as a canvas of pain, but as a testament to the unyielding spirit. It's a story that tugs at your heartstrings, reminding you that even in the grimmest corners, resilience blooms like a stubborn wildflower.
Now... for the writing, It's just beautiful. As a fellow Indian, picking up "City on Fire" felt like stepping into a familiar, yet unsettling, alleyway. The echo of communal tensions, the simmering fear, the whispers of hate – resonated in a way that sent shivers down my spine. But here's the beauty - the author doesn't shy away from the harsh realities, he humanizes everyone – Hindus and Muslims alike. It's not a sob story, but a vibrant picture woven with laughter, tears, and raw anger. I found myself wincing at the ever-present fear and fuming at the societal ills that plague these tightly knit lanes. It's a story that will stay with you long after the last page, a story that whispers, "We are more alike than we think." :)
May 28, 2024
While I am still coming to terms with my reality and accepting my identity and questions around it - this book has reinstated my faith about the questions and all that I’ve been feeling. I found a friend in Zeyad’s upbringing and sometimes another person that we’d marginalise because he didn’t behave like the ‘others’.
Witty, sharp and sprinkled with facts - it is a middle class boy’s story who has a mind of his own - and has struggled his way to the top to tell his story. Despite everything that he has grown up with - he leaves the reader with a lasting message - all the polarisation today can only be reversed with love and kindness.
Witty, sharp and sprinkled with facts - it is a middle class boy’s story who has a mind of his own - and has struggled his way to the top to tell his story. Despite everything that he has grown up with - he leaves the reader with a lasting message - all the polarisation today can only be reversed with love and kindness.
December 30, 2024
As an upper-caste Hindu largely distanced—partly by popular media and partly by my own analysis paralysis—from understanding the Muslim experience in India, especially in Muslim ghettos, this book has been a profound eye-opener. It has inspired me to seek a deeper inquiry into what it means to be marginalized in the complex, cacophonous tapestry of cultures that is India. A must-read for anyone willing to confront uncomfortable truths and broaden their perspective.
August 13, 2025
An outstanding debut.
The burden of articulating your own oppression has fallen on the oppressed. Zeyad makes this responsibility a funny, cathartic, reflective and ultimately an entertaining experience for the reader.
The burden of articulating your own oppression has fallen on the oppressed. Zeyad makes this responsibility a funny, cathartic, reflective and ultimately an entertaining experience for the reader.
August 7, 2024
In 2017, Crown Prince Muhammad bin Salman vowed to make Saudi Arabia ‘a bastion of moderate Islam’. Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan retorted that ‘Islam cannot be either moderate or non-moderate. Islam can only be one thing’. Of course, he didn’t specify which one. When a terrorist attack takes place, or more commonly when jihadist propaganda is loosened on social media, we wonder why the ‘moderate’ Muslims are silent or inactive in the face of effervescence on the extremists’ part. Instead of addressing the social evils associated with the community such as polygamy, arbitrary termination of marriages at the husband’s whim, discriminatory treatment of women in distribution of family property and a host of other such issues, the so-called moderates blame others for offending the hardliners through any real or imagined action. The true fact is that notions of religious supremacy and the desire to dominate over the other religions are what make the hardliners restless, but the moderates adroitly obfuscate it and loudly play the victim card to find justifications for the physical or ideological violence exerted by the jihadists. This leads us to conclude that Erdogan is, after all, quite right in what he said. This book from Zeyad Masroor Khan is about his life in Aligarh which is marked by frequent skirmishes and riots between the Hindu and Muslim communities. Khan finds the conditions repeated in Delhi as well where he worked as a journalist. The author is a journalist, writer and documentary film-maker based in New Delhi. He has worked with national and international media companies like Reuters, Vice, Brut and Deccan Herald. This is his first book.
Surprisingly for a native, Khan is unusually circumspect and subdued in extolling the legacy of Aligarh in deciding the destiny of the subcontinent. Aligarh was the epicentre of the Pakistan Movement and the nerve centre of the seditious campaign that ended up in the partition of the country. Jinnah and Liaquat Ali Khan were carried on the shoulders of students whenever they visited the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) which was their intellectual headquarters. Yasmin Khan notes in her book ‘The Great Partition’ that there were student leaders in AMU who openly boasted to have killed Hindus in riots (read my review of ‘The Great Partition’ here). Aligarh Muslims voted en masse for the Muslim League and thronged in support to its policies. The polling data leaves no doubt on the total support the League enjoyed. But when Partition actually came, they chose to happily stay back in India. The author says that after Partition, his grandfather ‘believed in Gandhi and wanted to stay in a secular India’. The author also comments on the violent methods used by the Pakistan supporters: ‘riots were taking place, people were butchered on the streets, trains were robbed and houses set on fire’ (p.21). With this truculent past behind their back, Zeyad Khan is acting astonished that the Hindus were not on friendly terms with them after partition. Communal riots were very common in Aligarh. The book talks about secret electric switches wired in Muslim areas for sounding emergency alarms to quickly gather people for fighting the Hindus.
This book is thoroughly hostile to Hindus and contains unmitigated hatred towards them. All Hindus are straitjacketed to be antagonistic towards Muslims. Some quotes from the book would help to uncover the fangs of venom concealed in the text: “Even the Hindus respected Ishrat Bhai for his honesty” (p.31), “Even the Hindus here are nicer than those from other neighbourhoods” (p.12, speaking about Uparkot), “During riots, Rasool’s house was attacked first, even if they acted all friendly with their Hindu neighbours” (p.32), “In my dreams, I’d see Hindus entering my home and setting it ablaze” (p.247). Muslims living among Hindus on very friendly terms were said to be mercilessly and treacherously assaulted during riots. The constant refrain of the book is that Hindus cheat. If the word ‘Hindu’ was replaced by ‘Jew’, this book would’ve been proscribed as a classic case of anti-Semitism. Beneath all these charades, the author’s real intention to play the victim card on Muslims comes out in the open. Khan is also careful to distinguish Hindus into upper caste and rich businessmen, lower caste labourers who are as poor as Muslims and Dalits (p.14). This newfound sympathy for the oppressed is just another masquerade for cutting down the tall poppy rather than upliftment of the downtrodden. Whenever a riot occurs, it is the Hindu who is on the other side, without any subtle caste demarcations.
The extraordinary effort exerted by Khan in appearing temperamentally indistinguishable from a boy who grew up in the 1990s elsewhere would’ve been appreciable had it not been used for giving respectability to his sinister and vicious narrative. His interest in comic books as a child helped to foster his faculty in handling languages. But the places to access these books were in Hindu areas and Khan narrates going about these places in trepidation that the Hindus may attack him. On the other hand, comic books were considered ‘the pinnacle of wise’ in his family. Drawing or seeing pictures is frowned upon in Islam. Practising music also infuriated some of his family members. Muslim children dutifully attended local madrassas while the author enjoyed reading comic books in Hindu areas. The comics told the story of a detective duo Ram and Rahim who intervened to save the country from aggression. Even though these books thus carried the rudiments of secularism and living in a pluralistic society, the author is anguished that “Muslims were never the central characters in any comic books. They were only the sidekicks and villains, a trend that continued in almost all the ones I read” (p.66). That’s simply because most of the Muslim children didn’t read them! In the books they actually read at madrassas, infidels were the villains. You get heroes in books who appeal to the bulk of its readers. As years go by, Khan tries his best to look and sound like a regular, mainstream school-going boy interested in Cartoon channel and video games. His discusses about a lot of cartoon characters he found attractive on TV. At times, he appeals to reason, ridiculing Muslims’ belief in djinns and spirits. He even pretends to be rational, but beneath this thin veil lurks his poisonous divisive agenda of being victimized in spite of holding all these ‘modern’ habits and tastes. He even feigns that he didn’t know how to offer namaz though he joined the hard-line Tablighi Jamaat a few years later. Khan also confesses that Osama bin Laden was a hero for him after 9/11 and dreamed of the Arab terrorist defeating the US in Afghanistan and then taking over Pakistan and India. He also dreamed that it would lead to Islam’s domination over the whole world. All this is written in a half-humorous way designed to disarm sceptics who might not read the whole book and to wriggle himself free of allegations of vituperation. A careful scrutiny will expose the vicious payload of communal hatred cloaked under the blanket of superficial humour.
Khan’s reproduction of communal unrest in Aligarh is deviously and shamelessly partisan. It serves only to bolster the Left/Islamist propaganda that Muslims are scared to live in India. Such an argument strengthens only the anti-national narrative. Mindless exaggeration oozes out of assertions like “all people in Muslim neighbourhoods lived in anticipation of the bad times that were always round the corner���. Communal tension is said to be a part of existence for Muslims around which the lives of everyone were moulded. This book narrates fine details of violence in which Muslims got killed or injured. These are so one-sided and quoting abuses verbatim that they appear to be insinuations for taking revenge. Aligarh has a history of communal rioting going back several centuries but for the author it mysteriously starts only in 1984 following the build-up of the Ayodhya temple movement. The narrative maliciously and cleverly omits the Rushdie ‘Satanic Verses’ and Shah Bano agitations in which Muslims went on the rampage. At one point, the author is forced to admit that Hindus also were killed in the riots but he rues that they were “fewer in numbers than the Muslims” and makes a sneering comment that “these were small sacrifices to achieve larger goals” (p.172). All the violent scenes portrayed in the book appear to be concocted fantasies and they always take place ‘a few feet away from a police station’ where the policemen ignored appeals for help. On the other hand, he proudly describes how BJP leaders were killed in retaliation (p.180) who were suspected to be behind attacks on Muslims. Khan notes some curious characteristics of AMU professors. Most of them have an ancestral connection to nawabs, zamindars or rich families. Only a few have risen from underprivileged backgrounds. Most are anti-student and part of regional lobbies. Occasionally, there were professors who became goons themselves and carried country-made guns in their pockets (p.188). This confirms Yasmin Khan’s observations referred to in Para 2 above.
It is astonishing that the author maintains his sentiment of hate for most of the narrative. He has packed that much malice in this book. Many a times the readers vainly hope that the verbs and adjectives are being used in half-jest, but it’s not so. Like a guided missile evading and going around obstacles to home in on the target, Khan is very focussed and totally dedicated to deliver his communal payload even though sometimes he acts like a rationalist or a leftist. Any Muslim reading this book will naturally feel pain and get offended. This is quite expected as the story is carefully crafted to produce this effect. Only the last five pages of the book are free from spite. In fact, this portion which tells about the author’s long walks in Aligarh after abandoning his job in Delhi in the aftermath of Covid, is the only saving grace. Then the author observes Hindus living alongside Muslims – as if for the first time – and realizes that they too belong to the Homo sapiens species. Like a flash of lightning suddenly illuminating a dark landscape, his bigoted mind escapes its shackles for a brief moment to realize that ‘forgiveness, coexistence, compassion, empathy and respect’ are the characters which are required to be instilled in every person for a harmonious communal life in India. At this instant, the author acknowledges workers everywhere in the world for giving him hope through their resilience and courage. This looks like a weak strategic ploy to appear leftist rather than borne from any genuine conviction or empathy.
In the beginning of the book, Khan records that ‘slight exaggeration is an inextricable part of Aligarh’s culture. If somebody from Aligarh tells you a story, take it with a grain of salt’ (p.4). Readers are advised to keep this confession in mind while reading through the author’s communally prejudiced rant. However, the exaggeration in this book is not at all slight and you require a full chest of salt to make it palatable. The author has a western audience in mind, possibly of the NGO variety, while telling his story. Usual tropes of foreign authors in India such as pot-holed roads, open drains, nightly power outages, stench from drains and garbage accumulated in streets are mentioned many times for effect even though not exactly suited or even relevant in the context.
This book is a piece of Islamist propaganda and it’s astonishing why HarperCollins chose to publish it. The book is not at all recommended.
Some other books which features Aligarh in a prominent way and were reviewed earlier here are
a) Aligarh’s First Generation by David Lelyveld (read review here)
b) Separatism among Indian Muslims by Francis Robinson (read review here)
c) The Great Partition by Yasmin Khan (read review here)
Surprisingly for a native, Khan is unusually circumspect and subdued in extolling the legacy of Aligarh in deciding the destiny of the subcontinent. Aligarh was the epicentre of the Pakistan Movement and the nerve centre of the seditious campaign that ended up in the partition of the country. Jinnah and Liaquat Ali Khan were carried on the shoulders of students whenever they visited the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) which was their intellectual headquarters. Yasmin Khan notes in her book ‘The Great Partition’ that there were student leaders in AMU who openly boasted to have killed Hindus in riots (read my review of ‘The Great Partition’ here). Aligarh Muslims voted en masse for the Muslim League and thronged in support to its policies. The polling data leaves no doubt on the total support the League enjoyed. But when Partition actually came, they chose to happily stay back in India. The author says that after Partition, his grandfather ‘believed in Gandhi and wanted to stay in a secular India’. The author also comments on the violent methods used by the Pakistan supporters: ‘riots were taking place, people were butchered on the streets, trains were robbed and houses set on fire’ (p.21). With this truculent past behind their back, Zeyad Khan is acting astonished that the Hindus were not on friendly terms with them after partition. Communal riots were very common in Aligarh. The book talks about secret electric switches wired in Muslim areas for sounding emergency alarms to quickly gather people for fighting the Hindus.
This book is thoroughly hostile to Hindus and contains unmitigated hatred towards them. All Hindus are straitjacketed to be antagonistic towards Muslims. Some quotes from the book would help to uncover the fangs of venom concealed in the text: “Even the Hindus respected Ishrat Bhai for his honesty” (p.31), “Even the Hindus here are nicer than those from other neighbourhoods” (p.12, speaking about Uparkot), “During riots, Rasool’s house was attacked first, even if they acted all friendly with their Hindu neighbours” (p.32), “In my dreams, I’d see Hindus entering my home and setting it ablaze” (p.247). Muslims living among Hindus on very friendly terms were said to be mercilessly and treacherously assaulted during riots. The constant refrain of the book is that Hindus cheat. If the word ‘Hindu’ was replaced by ‘Jew’, this book would’ve been proscribed as a classic case of anti-Semitism. Beneath all these charades, the author’s real intention to play the victim card on Muslims comes out in the open. Khan is also careful to distinguish Hindus into upper caste and rich businessmen, lower caste labourers who are as poor as Muslims and Dalits (p.14). This newfound sympathy for the oppressed is just another masquerade for cutting down the tall poppy rather than upliftment of the downtrodden. Whenever a riot occurs, it is the Hindu who is on the other side, without any subtle caste demarcations.
The extraordinary effort exerted by Khan in appearing temperamentally indistinguishable from a boy who grew up in the 1990s elsewhere would’ve been appreciable had it not been used for giving respectability to his sinister and vicious narrative. His interest in comic books as a child helped to foster his faculty in handling languages. But the places to access these books were in Hindu areas and Khan narrates going about these places in trepidation that the Hindus may attack him. On the other hand, comic books were considered ‘the pinnacle of wise’ in his family. Drawing or seeing pictures is frowned upon in Islam. Practising music also infuriated some of his family members. Muslim children dutifully attended local madrassas while the author enjoyed reading comic books in Hindu areas. The comics told the story of a detective duo Ram and Rahim who intervened to save the country from aggression. Even though these books thus carried the rudiments of secularism and living in a pluralistic society, the author is anguished that “Muslims were never the central characters in any comic books. They were only the sidekicks and villains, a trend that continued in almost all the ones I read” (p.66). That’s simply because most of the Muslim children didn’t read them! In the books they actually read at madrassas, infidels were the villains. You get heroes in books who appeal to the bulk of its readers. As years go by, Khan tries his best to look and sound like a regular, mainstream school-going boy interested in Cartoon channel and video games. His discusses about a lot of cartoon characters he found attractive on TV. At times, he appeals to reason, ridiculing Muslims’ belief in djinns and spirits. He even pretends to be rational, but beneath this thin veil lurks his poisonous divisive agenda of being victimized in spite of holding all these ‘modern’ habits and tastes. He even feigns that he didn’t know how to offer namaz though he joined the hard-line Tablighi Jamaat a few years later. Khan also confesses that Osama bin Laden was a hero for him after 9/11 and dreamed of the Arab terrorist defeating the US in Afghanistan and then taking over Pakistan and India. He also dreamed that it would lead to Islam’s domination over the whole world. All this is written in a half-humorous way designed to disarm sceptics who might not read the whole book and to wriggle himself free of allegations of vituperation. A careful scrutiny will expose the vicious payload of communal hatred cloaked under the blanket of superficial humour.
Khan’s reproduction of communal unrest in Aligarh is deviously and shamelessly partisan. It serves only to bolster the Left/Islamist propaganda that Muslims are scared to live in India. Such an argument strengthens only the anti-national narrative. Mindless exaggeration oozes out of assertions like “all people in Muslim neighbourhoods lived in anticipation of the bad times that were always round the corner���. Communal tension is said to be a part of existence for Muslims around which the lives of everyone were moulded. This book narrates fine details of violence in which Muslims got killed or injured. These are so one-sided and quoting abuses verbatim that they appear to be insinuations for taking revenge. Aligarh has a history of communal rioting going back several centuries but for the author it mysteriously starts only in 1984 following the build-up of the Ayodhya temple movement. The narrative maliciously and cleverly omits the Rushdie ‘Satanic Verses’ and Shah Bano agitations in which Muslims went on the rampage. At one point, the author is forced to admit that Hindus also were killed in the riots but he rues that they were “fewer in numbers than the Muslims” and makes a sneering comment that “these were small sacrifices to achieve larger goals” (p.172). All the violent scenes portrayed in the book appear to be concocted fantasies and they always take place ‘a few feet away from a police station’ where the policemen ignored appeals for help. On the other hand, he proudly describes how BJP leaders were killed in retaliation (p.180) who were suspected to be behind attacks on Muslims. Khan notes some curious characteristics of AMU professors. Most of them have an ancestral connection to nawabs, zamindars or rich families. Only a few have risen from underprivileged backgrounds. Most are anti-student and part of regional lobbies. Occasionally, there were professors who became goons themselves and carried country-made guns in their pockets (p.188). This confirms Yasmin Khan’s observations referred to in Para 2 above.
It is astonishing that the author maintains his sentiment of hate for most of the narrative. He has packed that much malice in this book. Many a times the readers vainly hope that the verbs and adjectives are being used in half-jest, but it’s not so. Like a guided missile evading and going around obstacles to home in on the target, Khan is very focussed and totally dedicated to deliver his communal payload even though sometimes he acts like a rationalist or a leftist. Any Muslim reading this book will naturally feel pain and get offended. This is quite expected as the story is carefully crafted to produce this effect. Only the last five pages of the book are free from spite. In fact, this portion which tells about the author’s long walks in Aligarh after abandoning his job in Delhi in the aftermath of Covid, is the only saving grace. Then the author observes Hindus living alongside Muslims – as if for the first time – and realizes that they too belong to the Homo sapiens species. Like a flash of lightning suddenly illuminating a dark landscape, his bigoted mind escapes its shackles for a brief moment to realize that ‘forgiveness, coexistence, compassion, empathy and respect’ are the characters which are required to be instilled in every person for a harmonious communal life in India. At this instant, the author acknowledges workers everywhere in the world for giving him hope through their resilience and courage. This looks like a weak strategic ploy to appear leftist rather than borne from any genuine conviction or empathy.
In the beginning of the book, Khan records that ‘slight exaggeration is an inextricable part of Aligarh’s culture. If somebody from Aligarh tells you a story, take it with a grain of salt’ (p.4). Readers are advised to keep this confession in mind while reading through the author’s communally prejudiced rant. However, the exaggeration in this book is not at all slight and you require a full chest of salt to make it palatable. The author has a western audience in mind, possibly of the NGO variety, while telling his story. Usual tropes of foreign authors in India such as pot-holed roads, open drains, nightly power outages, stench from drains and garbage accumulated in streets are mentioned many times for effect even though not exactly suited or even relevant in the context.
This book is a piece of Islamist propaganda and it’s astonishing why HarperCollins chose to publish it. The book is not at all recommended.
Some other books which features Aligarh in a prominent way and were reviewed earlier here are
a) Aligarh’s First Generation by David Lelyveld (read review here)
b) Separatism among Indian Muslims by Francis Robinson (read review here)
c) The Great Partition by Yasmin Khan (read review here)
January 7, 2024
Harry Crews wrote in A Childhood: The Biography of a Place, “Nothing is allowed to die in a society of storytelling people. It is all-the good and the bad-carted up and brought along from one generation to the next. And everything that is brought along is colored and shaped by those who bring it.”
What makes the City of Fire far more important is the context and times. Allow me to indulge a little. We live in bizarre times, times of ‘monumental crudeness’ as Toni Morrison mentioned. When she was two years old, the landlord set fire to the house because her parents could not pay the rent. Toni’s family responded by laughing over the face of such ‘monumental crudeness.’ These are the times that Aligarh and especially the UK (Upar Kot) of Aligarh has lived in since a long, long time. Where life is lived between and during the fire, the riots. While the events (riots) seem continuous, a life is lived in the interim. What surprises me is how Zeyad, despite being an aware journalist, manages to weave a beautiful story without getting carried away to conduct a political-economic analysis. It must have been very difficult to set off that gaze when selecting and describing the incidents to be non-reductive and non-stereotypical. As Chindamama Adichie says, there are ‘dangers of single stories’, those who reduce the sufferers or even the perpetrators to be stereotyped. Zeyad’s novel does that pretty well- maintaining the ‘conscious’ innocence of a young boy who has seen it all. The innocent risk-benefit scaling when you venture into the unknown or “dangerous” territories where the comics or CDs are available. From the 3 stages of his life-childhood, manhood and Aligarh, he has managed to create a living story of a place.
The appeal of the stories of the dead creates journalistic pieces and spectacles, but the stories of the living speak volumes about life. The stitching between the lives of the dead and the living has been wonderful at some places, especially in the chapter, Alleys of blood. Doesn’t evoke an extraordinary sense of anger or hate or pessimism, but trying to make sense of a disturbing routine, mostly one-sided but never final (yet). How minorities are a placeholder in movies, comics and their everyday lives (IF- they have any representation). Where their businesses have to have a secular name, their identities camouflaging only to be evoked when the time comes. The times keep on coming, the intergenerational cycle of violence continuing.
However, Zeyad’s book has hope, life, reflections, and a lot more and has often intrigued me how as a journalist he wasn’t busy dissecting the causes, the processes, and the outcomes of those riots. I am reminded of The Little Prince, ‘A businessman cannot appreciate the beauty of the stars as he is busy counting them’ and “What is essential is invisible to the eye” when I think about how he would have been able to narrate this lived reality of UK of Aligarh.
Declaration: I am from Aligarh, I know Zeyad and was present in one of the book release. The book release video is available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spDfr...
What makes the City of Fire far more important is the context and times. Allow me to indulge a little. We live in bizarre times, times of ‘monumental crudeness’ as Toni Morrison mentioned. When she was two years old, the landlord set fire to the house because her parents could not pay the rent. Toni’s family responded by laughing over the face of such ‘monumental crudeness.’ These are the times that Aligarh and especially the UK (Upar Kot) of Aligarh has lived in since a long, long time. Where life is lived between and during the fire, the riots. While the events (riots) seem continuous, a life is lived in the interim. What surprises me is how Zeyad, despite being an aware journalist, manages to weave a beautiful story without getting carried away to conduct a political-economic analysis. It must have been very difficult to set off that gaze when selecting and describing the incidents to be non-reductive and non-stereotypical. As Chindamama Adichie says, there are ‘dangers of single stories’, those who reduce the sufferers or even the perpetrators to be stereotyped. Zeyad’s novel does that pretty well- maintaining the ‘conscious’ innocence of a young boy who has seen it all. The innocent risk-benefit scaling when you venture into the unknown or “dangerous” territories where the comics or CDs are available. From the 3 stages of his life-childhood, manhood and Aligarh, he has managed to create a living story of a place.
The appeal of the stories of the dead creates journalistic pieces and spectacles, but the stories of the living speak volumes about life. The stitching between the lives of the dead and the living has been wonderful at some places, especially in the chapter, Alleys of blood. Doesn’t evoke an extraordinary sense of anger or hate or pessimism, but trying to make sense of a disturbing routine, mostly one-sided but never final (yet). How minorities are a placeholder in movies, comics and their everyday lives (IF- they have any representation). Where their businesses have to have a secular name, their identities camouflaging only to be evoked when the time comes. The times keep on coming, the intergenerational cycle of violence continuing.
However, Zeyad’s book has hope, life, reflections, and a lot more and has often intrigued me how as a journalist he wasn’t busy dissecting the causes, the processes, and the outcomes of those riots. I am reminded of The Little Prince, ‘A businessman cannot appreciate the beauty of the stars as he is busy counting them’ and “What is essential is invisible to the eye” when I think about how he would have been able to narrate this lived reality of UK of Aligarh.
Declaration: I am from Aligarh, I know Zeyad and was present in one of the book release. The book release video is available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spDfr...
January 23, 2024
"City on Fire" by Zeyad Masroor Khan unfolds as an evocative coming-of-age memoir, offering an unfiltered and gripping account of life in Upar Kot, a Muslim enclave nestled in Aligarh. From the outset, Author's narrative reveals a city starkly different from idealized depictions, beginning with a poignant childhood moment when the author, at the tender age of four, becomes acutely aware of the potential for riots triggered by a seemingly innocent act near a window overlooking the street.
The vivid tapestry Author weaves delves into the heart of Upar Kot, a place where serpentine lanes simmer with the threat of violence, and homes live in perpetual fear of losing a family member. The tension is palpable even during routine activities, such as borrowing a comic book from the 'Hindu' part of town or participating in Diwali celebrations. These everyday occurrences carry an undercurrent of unease, painting a picture of a community living under the shadow of religious strife.
As Author matures, the memoir becomes a chronicle of 'othering,' a lens through which he navigates life – from his schooldays in Aligarh, marked by tension during simple errands, to his time as a college student in Delhi, where rejections based on his name become a norm when seeking accommodation. The narrative matures further as Author transforms into a journalist, providing a firsthand account of the nation's history as it unfolds.
"City on Fire" stands out as more than an exploration of religious violence; it acts as a mirror reflecting the fractured realities of contemporary India. The memoir grapples with issues of identity, grief, and love within a society where a person's name and attire can mark them as the 'other.' Through the author's lens, the book becomes a poignant testament to the enduring hope for unity and a broader, more inclusive idea of India.
All-in-all, "City on Fire" appears to be a profound and personal narrative that invites readers to not only witness the complexities of religious strife but to reflect on the broader socio-political landscape, touching upon the universal themes of identity, violence, and the collective yearning for a more unified future.
The vivid tapestry Author weaves delves into the heart of Upar Kot, a place where serpentine lanes simmer with the threat of violence, and homes live in perpetual fear of losing a family member. The tension is palpable even during routine activities, such as borrowing a comic book from the 'Hindu' part of town or participating in Diwali celebrations. These everyday occurrences carry an undercurrent of unease, painting a picture of a community living under the shadow of religious strife.
As Author matures, the memoir becomes a chronicle of 'othering,' a lens through which he navigates life – from his schooldays in Aligarh, marked by tension during simple errands, to his time as a college student in Delhi, where rejections based on his name become a norm when seeking accommodation. The narrative matures further as Author transforms into a journalist, providing a firsthand account of the nation's history as it unfolds.
"City on Fire" stands out as more than an exploration of religious violence; it acts as a mirror reflecting the fractured realities of contemporary India. The memoir grapples with issues of identity, grief, and love within a society where a person's name and attire can mark them as the 'other.' Through the author's lens, the book becomes a poignant testament to the enduring hope for unity and a broader, more inclusive idea of India.
All-in-all, "City on Fire" appears to be a profound and personal narrative that invites readers to not only witness the complexities of religious strife but to reflect on the broader socio-political landscape, touching upon the universal themes of identity, violence, and the collective yearning for a more unified future.
February 18, 2024
The most searing image in Zeyad Masroor Khan’s powerful memoir about growing up in a Muslim ghetto of India’s Aligarh is of a Hindu man named Bablu, an employee on the school bus bringing students back home when riots break out.
The Atlas-like figure blocks the door, standing between a Hindu mob baying for the blood of 14-year-old Zeyad and other Muslims cowering inside as stones ricochet off the windows of the Route number 4 bus.
Zeyad escapes unscathed that day and Bablu, an unlikely hero, goes back into obscurity. But it’s one in a string of traumatic experiences for a young Muslim boy caught in a crossfire of hate.
"City on Fire," Zeyad’s coming-of-age memoir, includes self-deprecatory digs and vivid descriptions of Farsh Manzil, his ever-changing ancestral home that is a character by itself. A haunting, emotional read.
The Atlas-like figure blocks the door, standing between a Hindu mob baying for the blood of 14-year-old Zeyad and other Muslims cowering inside as stones ricochet off the windows of the Route number 4 bus.
Zeyad escapes unscathed that day and Bablu, an unlikely hero, goes back into obscurity. But it’s one in a string of traumatic experiences for a young Muslim boy caught in a crossfire of hate.
"City on Fire," Zeyad’s coming-of-age memoir, includes self-deprecatory digs and vivid descriptions of Farsh Manzil, his ever-changing ancestral home that is a character by itself. A haunting, emotional read.
November 3, 2024
A beautiful memoir of a boy growing up in a city rich in culture & conflict, City on Fire brings home the experience of othering that the country bestows on its muslim margins. Through Zeyad's stories of the people of Upar Kot & it's adjoining neighborhoods, one starts to see beneath the layers of fear & hostility crafted towards a community - who are in no uncertain terms as Indian, as complicated, as happy, as miserable, as ambitious, as worried as the rest of this country.
I also found refreshing Zeyad's focal points for this story. These focal points of a shifting neoliberal economy, changing political landscapes & the fissures wrought by market forces made this personal history a necessary account of the middle class experience in modern India.
I felt I was given access to the disturbing experience of living contested identities from a visceral closeness.
Being muslim in India has never been an easy experience - this I was aware of on an intellectual plane. The memoir let me go beyond this rational form of "knowing" to understand what's it like to live in the backdrop of riots, violence, mob lynchings; impending dooms that are never denied only bargained with. I also found hope in this story - hope of forgiveness, of love, of a country that's brimming with histories of people who choose to practice love everyday regardless of outcomes. (Bablu who saved young Zeyad's life on a school bus & Noorjahan who saved his home from a mob both are etched in my heart as heroes we choose to tragically forget.)
If all of us could access stories of people who decide to see themselves in others - of bus managers who save children from riots & tenants who protect homes from burning down - then perhaps this politically manufactured drama of hate will come to an end.
One must read this book simply to live behind the eyes of those the dominant Hindu imagination likes to vilify & obscure. A much needed antidote to the venomous rhetoric of media injected into our minds everyday.
I also found refreshing Zeyad's focal points for this story. These focal points of a shifting neoliberal economy, changing political landscapes & the fissures wrought by market forces made this personal history a necessary account of the middle class experience in modern India.
I felt I was given access to the disturbing experience of living contested identities from a visceral closeness.
Being muslim in India has never been an easy experience - this I was aware of on an intellectual plane. The memoir let me go beyond this rational form of "knowing" to understand what's it like to live in the backdrop of riots, violence, mob lynchings; impending dooms that are never denied only bargained with. I also found hope in this story - hope of forgiveness, of love, of a country that's brimming with histories of people who choose to practice love everyday regardless of outcomes. (Bablu who saved young Zeyad's life on a school bus & Noorjahan who saved his home from a mob both are etched in my heart as heroes we choose to tragically forget.)
If all of us could access stories of people who decide to see themselves in others - of bus managers who save children from riots & tenants who protect homes from burning down - then perhaps this politically manufactured drama of hate will come to an end.
One must read this book simply to live behind the eyes of those the dominant Hindu imagination likes to vilify & obscure. A much needed antidote to the venomous rhetoric of media injected into our minds everyday.
February 4, 2024
Some days back I completed reading Attia Hosain’s Sunlight on a Broken Column, which is a female bildungsroman, but little did I know my next read is a bildungsroman too. (seriously not planned)
Amid this darkened backdrop, the City on Fire delivers a distinct and poignant depiction of how violent demeanour and hostility slowly sinks into our ordinary life and then, consciousness. Khan focuses on trash-can realities of the complex socio-profane sector of society teeming with institutionalized taboos and stratified class system where a name and a dress proclaim the ‘other’; here, Khan reveals the tears of the constructed narratives and broken realities of the present-day India. This work does not only that offer penetrated analysis of religion and violence but additionally, a poignant examination of the sorrow, the love, and the complicated arrangement of sentiments that characterize present-day India.
Khan’s narrative technique is marked by seething candor and raw efficacy as he reveals the subterranean currents of religious translations and the persistent marginalization that inexorably ensheathes the hero’s being. From tensed episodes in his day as an infant in Aligarh to the way that he needed to face difficulties for housing in Delhi, attributable to his name, while at college, Khan’s excursion is a comprehension of the endurance under the heavyweight of discrimination and hardships.
Amid this darkened backdrop, the City on Fire delivers a distinct and poignant depiction of how violent demeanour and hostility slowly sinks into our ordinary life and then, consciousness. Khan focuses on trash-can realities of the complex socio-profane sector of society teeming with institutionalized taboos and stratified class system where a name and a dress proclaim the ‘other’; here, Khan reveals the tears of the constructed narratives and broken realities of the present-day India. This work does not only that offer penetrated analysis of religion and violence but additionally, a poignant examination of the sorrow, the love, and the complicated arrangement of sentiments that characterize present-day India.
Khan’s narrative technique is marked by seething candor and raw efficacy as he reveals the subterranean currents of religious translations and the persistent marginalization that inexorably ensheathes the hero’s being. From tensed episodes in his day as an infant in Aligarh to the way that he needed to face difficulties for housing in Delhi, attributable to his name, while at college, Khan’s excursion is a comprehension of the endurance under the heavyweight of discrimination and hardships.
February 5, 2024
I just love it when authors describe the neighborhood of a city. The last time I remember being introduced to a city was in Aanchal Malhotra's debut novel. In this book, Zeyad Masroor Khan introduces us to Aligarh as a small town and then proceeds to describe the nature of the people and the lanes of Upar Kot in detail.Based on tales of past and present, author has somehow mirrored the current situation of India.
This book is timely written. I had this prejudice about Aligarh, thinking it was merely the land of AMU where peace has always prevailed due to one religion dominating over others. The book describes different places, some posh, others as bad as garbage bins, without any sense of hesitation. It may also act as a warning of how bad things can get if people continue to draw clear lines based on religion, which I believe is happening in India these days. The book basically consists of three parts, and I certainly think that the second part was the most important one. It may help a few people to correctly understand the motives of some Muslim groups, Tabliqi Jamat to be specific.
In short, this book has reflected the idea of what it feels like to be Muslim and grow up in Aligarh and in India in these days. It explores the experience of hearing about various atrocities like riots and facing the blame of their religion as one of its reasons.
This book is timely written. I had this prejudice about Aligarh, thinking it was merely the land of AMU where peace has always prevailed due to one religion dominating over others. The book describes different places, some posh, others as bad as garbage bins, without any sense of hesitation. It may also act as a warning of how bad things can get if people continue to draw clear lines based on religion, which I believe is happening in India these days. The book basically consists of three parts, and I certainly think that the second part was the most important one. It may help a few people to correctly understand the motives of some Muslim groups, Tabliqi Jamat to be specific.
In short, this book has reflected the idea of what it feels like to be Muslim and grow up in Aligarh and in India in these days. It explores the experience of hearing about various atrocities like riots and facing the blame of their religion as one of its reasons.
December 7, 2024
Boyhood in Aligarh and also as a Muslim growing up through the 1990s and 2000s. These are events which we all lived through – the Babri destruction and its aftermath, 9/11 while watching from India, Godhra massacres. I wanted to read this to see things from the writer’s perspective and how much my experience overlaps with his. While what we/India has done to its Muslims over the last 15 odd years is unforgiveable, this suggested that it was more a ramped up version of what was already there before rather than an aberration. Riots are a running theme, radicalization is a comfort and the only option for a young boy trying to make sense of this world. Things spiral a bit towards the end – his journey to AMU and college / working life is skimmed through. By the end, the writer’s all grown up, accepting and disillusioned - though surer of his place. I felt that there were too many mundane details of life included and the characters weren’t well developed, however for a debut book the writing is decent - not brilliant, but occasionally insightful. I liked the end – the change of Aligarh to Harigarh and all that that implies.
April 18, 2024
What a fantastic read this was! Khan weaves an intricate portrait of Aligarh, tinged with nostalgia. The description of Aligarh and Upar Kot are exquisite and transported me to this world. This coming-of-age memoir would be hard to read without the humor and empathy that Khan brings. It speaks highly of his talent that I was able to finish this book despite the horrifying reality of living in a highly polarized society that this book describes so simply yet with so much attention to detail.
A minor quibble: some events felt a little disjointed. Sometimes that added to the almost surreal quality of the book but also jolted me out of it more often than not. However, as with the brilliant H-Pop, this is another highly recommended read!
A minor quibble: some events felt a little disjointed. Sometimes that added to the almost surreal quality of the book but also jolted me out of it more often than not. However, as with the brilliant H-Pop, this is another highly recommended read!
March 8, 2025
Although a memoir, I probably had higher expectations from the book. I wanted to know Aligarh, its shortcomings, its beauty, its insecurities and its people. What I got rather was less than half pages of the book dedicated to the city. I didn't want to have a 'perspective' on hindus vs muslims because it's the same everywhere. The ugliness of the underlying script doesn't change.
Part of books are for Delhi, its riots in 2020 and part of books narrate authors views and his family problems.
I was a bit disappointed halfway through the book but carried on expecting a better writing.
Nevertheless, an alright book.
Part of books are for Delhi, its riots in 2020 and part of books narrate authors views and his family problems.
I was a bit disappointed halfway through the book but carried on expecting a better writing.
Nevertheless, an alright book.
March 6, 2024
Beautifully written book. Emotive, baring the stark realities in contemporary India, though still with a hopeful note in the concluding chapter, along with a very immersive portrayal of the growing up from a kid, a joint family kid, to the adulthood and the realizations on the way. The book brings to life many aspects of the society and somewhere in some parts vaguely reminding me Twilight in Delhi by Ahmed Ali, Desperately Seeking Paradise by Ziauddin Sardar, and of Who killed Liberal Islam by Hasan Suroor.
March 11, 2024
Was introduced to the book as I listened to Anurag minus Varma's podcast with Zeyad. Reading through the book felt like going through your own life. We are not very different as the Radicals would want us to believe. Especially love the childhood parts with comics and Zeyad bhai's father. My father is a similar person and reading this book makes me appreciate him even more. I also love the snippets in which he has explained about many of human nature and the human condition related things. They were very insightful and inspiring. Thanks for writing this gem Zeyad bhai! An essential read.
March 1, 2024
A poignant coming of age story of another world which only few of us would have familiar with-that of a neighborhood (In Aligarh, Uttar Pradesh) where a riot could break out anytime..how do people navigate through everyday hate and have things changed over the years? Read this terrific debut and find out
April 23, 2024
What a powerful writer and an evocative book! I walked the lanes of Upar Kot, experienced the loss, anxieties and happiness of the Farsh household, engaged in baruapanti and felt the friendships and love of Aligarh. A dream debut.
May 26, 2024
A good book about contemporary Indian society and politics. 3 due to there is so much personal information which in my opinion lacks to connect the broader idea of the book. One should read who wants to know about Aligarh and the contemporary social-political scenario of the country.
January 19, 2024
A little bleak.
May 18, 2024
What a book!
I really loved reading this through and through. The book made me very misty in the eyes at times. I'd like to visit Aligarh someday, and take a turn about Farsh Manzil.
I really loved reading this through and through. The book made me very misty in the eyes at times. I'd like to visit Aligarh someday, and take a turn about Farsh Manzil.
November 6, 2024
this was so GOOD!! I wish it ended with him embracing his tablighi self again, but cest la vie, i suppose (?)
anyway, it gave me vs. naipaul vibes, and i love vs. naipaul 📈📈
anyway, it gave me vs. naipaul vibes, and i love vs. naipaul 📈📈
July 22, 2025
I resonate with this book at times
emotional
reflective
informative
emotional
reflective
informative
May 1, 2024
"City on Fire" emerges as an unparalleled testament to raw honesty, capturing a lived reality that feels incredibly tangible yet brimming with hope. It stands as one of the most exceptional memoirs of recent memory, offering both insight and inspiration. This eye-opening and timely narrative is a much-needed addition to our literary landscape.
July 28, 2024
This memoir was equal parts entertaining and heartbreaking. The parts that touched me most were the extremely beautiful descriptions of the city of Aligarh through it’s people; I found that to be a “humanisation” of Muslims which is very rarely afforded to us in media or literature. The fact that Muslims have the same hopes, dreams, and life experiences like other human beings; it’s sad that this is something that even needs to be reiterated.
The author weaves both dark humour and poignant insights in his story-telling.
Although I didn’t agree with some of the opinions of the author, this is a memoir, and it is not claiming to be an academic book, so that’s neither here nor there.
I believe books like a City on Fire are a dire necessity to challenge the dehumanisation of Muslims by offering honest, poignant, and deeply human portrayals of Muslims, flaws and shortcomings notwithstanding; to reiterate the reality of our shared humanity.
(P.S: I picked up this book at Delhi Book Fair and only months later did I realise that it was a signed copy, so that was nice!)
The author weaves both dark humour and poignant insights in his story-telling.
Although I didn’t agree with some of the opinions of the author, this is a memoir, and it is not claiming to be an academic book, so that’s neither here nor there.
I believe books like a City on Fire are a dire necessity to challenge the dehumanisation of Muslims by offering honest, poignant, and deeply human portrayals of Muslims, flaws and shortcomings notwithstanding; to reiterate the reality of our shared humanity.
(P.S: I picked up this book at Delhi Book Fair and only months later did I realise that it was a signed copy, so that was nice!)
July 7, 2024
Why was I so intrigued in a journalist's life who really has nothing to do with me? It was heartbreaking to read this book. And even sad to know that stuff like this is still happening in Aligarh as I write this...
May 13, 2025
After reading The Strange Life of Syeda X and The Lucky Ones, I looked forward to reading this one. It is a coming-of-age account of a young Muslim journalist from Aligarh.
The author writes about the communal riots in Aligarh that he had witnessed growing up and how these came to be 'normalised'; how after braying for each other's blood, the two predominant communities in the city would soon return to living and working together. But reading about the daily travails of Muslim families was very unsettling. 'One of the reasons I hadn't lived in the Muslim-majority Jamia Nagar was that most cab drivers simply refused to go there. Everyone who lives there knows that it would generally take at least thrice as many attempts to go there than to other places.' (p. 263) A chill ran down my spine when he interviewed a woman BJP leader who had earlier been arrested for leading a mob that attacked his home and the death of a friend.
Not all writers who have a story to tell have the skills of storytelling, which is why the editor’s role is so critical. When a publisher accepts a manuscript, it is their duty to edit it as best as they can. They are accountable not just to the author but to the readers as well. They cannot merely bring out a subpar publication, only because they are aware that the story will sell.
The editing of this book is dismal! Some writings need a lot more editorial work than others, and there is no excuse for not putting in that effort after accepting a manuscript.
The narrative gets so clunky that I would have given up reading after the initial 40 pages had I not wanted to read this story. Apart from phrases like ‘didn’t cut any ice’, ‘on rare occasions when they met’, ‘nodding their heads back and forth like a pendulum’, the tenses and punctuations go all over.
The sentence construction is clumsy: ‘Some students, associated with… SIMI, which was founded in Aligarh, put up posters mocking Vajpayee’s decision to support America in parts of Delhi’; Is it a sin to ask a girl for his number you like? She’d cook something that we loved or made a lot of curtains and sweets made of dry fruits. (pp. 44-45) The more I sat for hours in front of the TV, (p. 98); …bringing him his Sweety Supari from the paan shop or bring him chhole… (pp. 57-58) I was just glued to Twitter and on my phone, my anxiety… (p. 259)
Typos after typos: …Mehro Phuppos’ portion, was on the right, while ours was on the right (p.19).
Some literal translations from Hindi: She should have thought about marrying a married man (which meant just the opposite, p. 40) … became a politician after fighting her family. (p. 280)
The horrible translation of ‘daant kati roti’ as ‘half-masticated roti’ (p. 33).
There are unnecessary details of comic books and TV programmes of the day; several repetitions of ‘I was so cute’. Insensitive things like, ‘So my friends and I would roam around in the area where ugly boys and girls went. (p. 99). The author as a schoolboy telling his parents: ‘You people are fools. (! p. 111)
It is unfortunate that a publisher of such high repute has produced a work of such poor quality.
The author writes about the communal riots in Aligarh that he had witnessed growing up and how these came to be 'normalised'; how after braying for each other's blood, the two predominant communities in the city would soon return to living and working together. But reading about the daily travails of Muslim families was very unsettling. 'One of the reasons I hadn't lived in the Muslim-majority Jamia Nagar was that most cab drivers simply refused to go there. Everyone who lives there knows that it would generally take at least thrice as many attempts to go there than to other places.' (p. 263) A chill ran down my spine when he interviewed a woman BJP leader who had earlier been arrested for leading a mob that attacked his home and the death of a friend.
Not all writers who have a story to tell have the skills of storytelling, which is why the editor’s role is so critical. When a publisher accepts a manuscript, it is their duty to edit it as best as they can. They are accountable not just to the author but to the readers as well. They cannot merely bring out a subpar publication, only because they are aware that the story will sell.
The editing of this book is dismal! Some writings need a lot more editorial work than others, and there is no excuse for not putting in that effort after accepting a manuscript.
The narrative gets so clunky that I would have given up reading after the initial 40 pages had I not wanted to read this story. Apart from phrases like ‘didn’t cut any ice’, ‘on rare occasions when they met’, ‘nodding their heads back and forth like a pendulum’, the tenses and punctuations go all over.
The sentence construction is clumsy: ‘Some students, associated with… SIMI, which was founded in Aligarh, put up posters mocking Vajpayee’s decision to support America in parts of Delhi’; Is it a sin to ask a girl for his number you like? She’d cook something that we loved or made a lot of curtains and sweets made of dry fruits. (pp. 44-45) The more I sat for hours in front of the TV, (p. 98); …bringing him his Sweety Supari from the paan shop or bring him chhole… (pp. 57-58) I was just glued to Twitter and on my phone, my anxiety… (p. 259)
Typos after typos: …Mehro Phuppos’ portion, was on the right, while ours was on the right (p.19).
Some literal translations from Hindi: She should have thought about marrying a married man (which meant just the opposite, p. 40) … became a politician after fighting her family. (p. 280)
The horrible translation of ‘daant kati roti’ as ‘half-masticated roti’ (p. 33).
There are unnecessary details of comic books and TV programmes of the day; several repetitions of ‘I was so cute’. Insensitive things like, ‘So my friends and I would roam around in the area where ugly boys and girls went. (p. 99). The author as a schoolboy telling his parents: ‘You people are fools. (! p. 111)
It is unfortunate that a publisher of such high repute has produced a work of such poor quality.
August 1, 2024
A beautiful, tender account of what it means to be a Muslim in this country today—living through the everyday traumas, fears and struggles of a severely oppressed minority and still finding hope and humour in little things. It takes you through the tiny bylines and chor gallis (secret lanes built to help people escape communal riots) of Aligarh, through unimaginable violence and people carrying on with their lives in the aftermath, living and loving with these open wounds.
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