A heartwarming and sensitive portrayal of a growing bond between Yusuf, a British Pakistani grandfather, and his mixed heritage teenage granddaughter, Rubi, Sairish Hussain’s second novel Hidden Fires highlights the importance of preserving the histories of South Asia’s most tragedy ridden generation.
‘This whole thing is far from over. It’s been dormant since 1947 and I will find the closure I am looking for.’
At first glance, the story reads like contemporary fiction, as the author gains our trust by bringing us into the world of relatable characters in present day Britain; Yusuf, the stubbornly independent grandfather, Rubi, the teenager struggling with body issues and online bullying, and Hassan, a devoted father and husband, bearing the load of responsibilities towards his stressful job, his aging father, and his unhappy family life.
The historical elements are woven in both overtly, and subtly – overtly, with Hussain referencing BBC documentaries on the Partition as a gentle nudge for readers; and subtly, with Yusuf and his friends’ flashbacks as they realise they are running out of time to make peace with the ghosts of their past and can no longer suffer in silence.
Hussain asks us to question whether. the British invented the concept of a Stiff Upper Lip and we, the colonised, adopted the ways of those ruling over us in order to survive and rebuild, often from scratch; or was it we who taught our masters, that there is dignity in keeping silent in the face of unspeakable tragedy? ‘We don’t talk about it, is the unspoken rule.’
As a Pakistani reviewing works of literature for an Indian origin publication in the UK, I chose Hidden Fires for this month’s column, safe in the knowledge that with a mere change of name and religion, this story could very easily be that of a Hindu rather than Muslim family. The author maintains admirable neutrality in her storytelling and staunchly refrains from ‘taking sides’. As a result, her readers become equally hesitant about laying blame on either side of the border because of the way she evokes empathy through her characters who are dealing with universal issues from the past which have impacts right down to the present.
It is through the flashbacks of Yusuf and his friends that the reader starts to piece together what happened in their past. Yusuf starts showing signs of dementia and slowly, his secrets slip through the cracks, filtering down to Rubi as a cry for help. Hussain does the heavy lifting for us in the novel by propelling us through the terror and gore with the use of humour at just the right moments.
The resilience of her grandfather’s generation bolsters Rubi’s character journey, and she is able to fight some of her external demons and make peace with the ones still flailing inside her by the time we say goodbye to her. Her determination in giving voice to her grandfather’s story is a reminder that we must preserve in our individual journeys towards healing, but also repair our relationships across border lines.
