The Night in Her Hair
By Huma Agha Abbas and Taiba Abbas
Ala Books and Authors, Lahore
ISBN: 978-9692358407
364pp.

The Night in Her Hair is a collection of nine folk tales from across Pakistan, retold by mother-daughter duo Huma Agha Abbas and Taiba Abbas. Rife with beautiful imagery and tender pining that helps you traverse loves across the different regions of Pakistan — including lesser known folk tales from Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa and Kashmir — this is a book that certainly deserves to take up space on your shelf.

Objectively speaking, the book is very well-crafted. When you’re someone who both reads and writes, oftentimes you find yourself not just reading the story that’s presented, but also noting ‘how’ it’s presented. How well is it written? Are there any typos? Are there any brilliant expressions you want to remember, parts you disagree with, and so on and so forth. In the case of The Night in Her Hair, I thought it was fascinating that, from a technical perspective, there are next to no faults in it.

The first major publication by Lahore-based independent publisher Ala Books and Authors, it must be pointed out how well the book has been edited. I didn’t spot any typos, which — while one would think is to be expected — is actually quite difficult to achieve, especially for a small press. Kudos to Ala Books and Authors for upholding such a high standard of work from the get-go.

The stories are accompanied by original artwork by Abbas Senior and the whole book is really quite beautifully designed by Ramsha Afaq. The greens, the golds and the sunset orange tones of the paintings within laudably augment the romance of the stories.

Containing whirlwind romance, transportive imagery and plenty of food for thought, a well-crafted collection of retold Pakistani folk tales deserves a place on all bookshelves

I devoured the beautiful imagery crafted within the text itself — when Himal and Nagrai trek through the snow; when Habba Khatoon and Yusuf Shah glide across a lake in a shikara, watching the night sky; when the mighty River Chenab ebbs and flows, dictating how soon, or not, Sohni will meet Mahiwal.

If I faintly recalled some of the popular folk tales before, I will be sure to remember each one perfectly now. This is another reason to have this book on your shelf: it acts as a reference to stories that many of us might only vaguely know of, and refreshes details that may have fallen by the wayside, or corrupted by how they are depicted in pop culture.

For instance, we all know that Sohni drowned in the Chenab on her way to meet Mahiwal. But now we have the specifics: she was not some flighty teenager who sat around daydreaming, but a remarkably talented, skilled and accomplished artisan, and Mahiwal — the erstwhile rich merchant Izzat Beyg — was smitten first by her craft (although initially highly sceptical that a woman could be capable of producing such exemplary clay pots and pitchers).

Among the nine stories making up the collection are the recognisable tales of Umar Marvi, Sassi Punhu, Heer Ranjha, Mirza Sahiban and Sohni Mahiwal. Then there are the stories we may not be so greatly familiar with, such as that of Kash Kash Jinn, Habba Khatoon Yusuf Shah, Adam Khan Dur Khanai and Himal Nagrai.

In this last one, Himal is a princess kept in seclusion until someone ‘buys’ her with enough riches to allow her father to secure his kingdom against enemies. Enter the mysterious Nagrai, rising from the depths of the river. He possesses untold wealth and, as a result, is quickly accepted by the king as his son-in-law, no further questions asked.

It’s a good thing that Himal likes him, too. Later, it transpires that Nagrai has not been entirely honest with Himal, but then, what is a timeless romance without a few magical secrets between lovers? As countless books and films have shown, reality can be a bit boring, while straightforward discussions are a veritable death knell for the romantic.

And what if one is not a romantic? Frankly, I’m not much of one myself (neither are most Pakistan men, despite what these stories would have you think), and perhaps that is what posed the biggest challenge to me as a reader: I often found myself mentally yelling at the lovers to use their brains, to talk to one another, listen to one another.

Mahiwal, you should’ve listened to Sohni; the woman knows her father! And Himal, you should’ve used your wits before asking Nagrai to bathe in milk! I know these small misunderstandings are meant to be catalysts, that the naiveté of lovers is meant to show us their evolution through the stories — it’s a writing technique, after all — but it just felt very frustrating because it seems so avoidable!

The wise old Baba Amin from the tale of Habba Khatoon and Yusuf Shah would share this sentiment, which is probably another reason why I loved that story. When Yusuf says of Habba, “She is the reason I believe”, the venerable elder replies, “Don’t let that be the only reason you’re with her. Seek a companion in her. Nothing else.”

Yes, please, Yusuf. Do not make Habba responsible for your lack of faith.

But these are quibbles with the genre of folk romance and don’t reflect on the writing. However, since the stories in the book are billed as “adapted anew”, I admit there were moments where I wished for more. When I see the word ‘retelling’, I love to see drastic changes, reclamation of certain tropes, perhaps. The authors of this collection have stayed very close to the source material — think of it as filling in the visual gaps of the folk tales — which is partially why I think this book serves as a good reference. And, of course, staying true to the original versions isn’t a demerit; in the case of well-loved folk tales, one might even say it is important in order to avoid hurting sentiments.

Still, I felt there were some drags, some holes in the plots and I wondered why certain artistic liberties weren’t taken. I was left desiring tighter, more cohesive compositions — I wanted more of how my favourite tale in the collection, ‘Habba Khatoon’, was crafted.

Many of the stories in The Night in Her Hair have a structure that alters between showing us where the story is taking place and telling us about the powerful feelings of the protagonists, with brief moments or hints of fantastical elements that end up feeling abrupt or out of place.

‘Habba Khatoon’ does a lovely job of weaving in elements of magical realism throughout, making it possible to visualise it in greater detail, and also making the story itself stronger, more evocative and the elements better connected. Perhaps it’s my liking for speculative fiction, but — considering that many of these folk tales have transcended time partially because they have been able to take on forms in music and other arts that blend reality with fantasy, acting as vehicles for notions of devotion, courage and unconventional thinking — I do believe that the presence of fantastical elements, and reworking some existing elements, would have strengthened them and acted as a powerful visual balance to the overpowering romance.

But I do encourage reading the book. Whether read for pleasure, research, critique or a class, The Night in Her Hair is the kind of work that offers something to everyone. There is whirlwind romance, transportive imagery and, without a shadow of a doubt, plenty of food for thought. Meanwhile, I look forward to the next offering from Ala Books and Authors.

The reviewer is a design generalist, writer and occasional artist from Karach whose writing mostly explores postcolonial speculative and fantasy fiction. She tweets @heymushba

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, October 30th, 2022