"If you can't solve it through journalism or in real life, then perhaps a novel is a good medium — if nobody is telling you the truth, you can create your own truth."

Mohammad Hanif is an acclaimed Pakistani author and journalist, known for his nuanced portrayal of Pakistan’s political and social complexities. He has composed notable novels, including A Case of Exploding Mangoes, Our Lady of Alice Bhatti, and Red Birds.

Hanif’s journey into writing began with a deep passion for reading. Like many aspiring authors, he felt a story inside him waiting to be told, although he initially lacked a clear narrative. Growing up in a village, life was rather uneventful, with no internet, cable TV, or phones — little to occupy the imagination. Seeking new opportunities beyond his rural upbringing, Hanif joined the Pakistan Air Force after answering a newspaper advertisement. The regimented environment offered little freedom, it gave him access to some of the finest libraries in Pakistan, where his love for books deepened and ultimately steered him toward journalism and fiction.

Unlike many authors with formal literary education, Hanif had no academic background in creative writing or the classics. His literary education was self-taught. During his time as a journalist in Karachi, he mingled with creative circles, writing plays and songs, and contributing to film ideas alongside his journalistic career.

Hanif's first novel, A Case of Exploding Mangoes, was inspired by a pivotal moment in Pakistan's history: the 1988 crash of General Zia-ul-Haq's plane. The tragedy, which claimed the lives of top generals and the U.S. ambassador, was surrounded by unanswered questions and a lack of a thorough investigation. Driven by a deep curiosity to understand what actually happened, Hanif saw the event as a compelling story that journalism alone could not fully unravel. This gap between reality and truth became the foundation for his novel, allowing him to explore the complexities and mysteries that official accounts left unresolved.

Writing, however, came with its own challenges. For a long time, Hanif struggled to begin, wrestling with his ideas and often ending up with little more than scattered notes. Over time, he completed three books, recognizing that each demanded inventing a new approach. He has said that writing a book demands solitude, patience, and a certain stubbornness — the endurance to keep going when no one else can see what you’re creating.

Hanif reflects on the dangers of self-censorship, recalling his editor, teacher, and friend, Razia Bhatti. She often reminded him that true press freedom is rare, as media outlets operate under commercial pressures. Nevertheless, the freedom of a journalist lies in refusing to impose limits on oneself. Hanif emphasizes this point, stating:

“I believe self-censorship is dangerous — because when you decide in advance that something can’t be done, it not only shrinks your own mind but also restricts the freedoms of society as a whole.”

— Mohammed Hanif, Author & Journalist

Hanif acknowledges the financial difficulties many readers face, especially students, and understands why unauthorized copies of books have become widespread. He explains that these pirated editions are often more affordable precisely because they are stolen and resold, making literature accessible to those who otherwise could not afford it. While recognizing the personal loss this causes authors, Hanif believes that addressing this issue is not the most urgent priority for the government. Instead, he argues that broader societal problems—such as improving water infrastructure—should be tackled before focusing on enforcement against illegal book distribution.

Hanif remains optimistic about Pakistan’s reading culture. He notes that publishing activity has grown, with more books and presses emerging than in the past. Yet the loss of communal literary spaces has fragmented the once-thriving culture of discussion and mentorship. Earlier, writers and readers would meet, exchange ideas, and draw young people into literary circles. Now, those spaces have faded, leaving fewer places to nurture curiosity and creative exchange.

Hanif points to a more fundamental problem behind Pakistan’s declining reading culture. A large part of the population, he says, simply cannot read Urdu, English, Sindhi, or Balochi—they are illiterate and have been deliberately kept that way. Those who can read often cannot afford books or make time for them, while those who can manage both often lack the interest to sustain the habit.

Today, Hanif continues to engage through social media, sharing his writing. While he avoids responding to online abuse, he welcomes genuine dialogue, especially with younger generations whose perspectives differ from his own.

Mohammad Hanif’s journey reflects the struggle of a writer determined to speak truth in a country where silence often feels safer. His work stands as both critique and testament—proof that fiction can sometimes tell the truth that journalism cannot.

Have you ever read a novel that changed your perspective on history or politics? Share the title in the comments below!

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