
Haneef Shareef
Haneef Shareef (also spelled Hanif Sharif) was born in Karachi on 25 December 1976. (150) He completed his basic education in Turbat, Balochistan, and received a Bachelor of Medicine, Bachelor of Surgery (MBBS) degree from Bolan Medical College, Quetta, in 2003.
Haneef was active in the Baloch Students Organization (BSO), which in addition to organizing Baloch students engages in political activities. (151) His abduction by Pakistani secret agencies in 2005 was publicly protested by local and international human rights organizations, including Amnesty International. (152) He was released after nine months, and in 2011 he left Pakistan. After some years in Oman he moved to Germany, where he now lives in exile and is active as a writer, filmmaker, YouTuber, and photographer.
Haneef has written one novel, Chegerd Poll Ent (The Chegerd Tree is Blossoming), (153) and a number of short stories in Balochi. Some of his short stories have been published in the three collections, Shapá ke Hawra Gwárit (The Night When it Rains), (154) Tirándask (Tirandask), (155) and Hanipnám (Hey You, Hanip). (156)
In addition to his authorship, Haneef has directed four films in Balochi, two in Balochistan and two during the time he spent in Oman. (157) All of his films deal with the current political situation in Balochistan, and the main theme is Baloch patriotism. Haneef also runs a YouTube channel, Radio Balochistan, (158) where he publishes videos, stories, interviews and lectures on various topics.
Haneef Shareef’s short stories are characterized by a poetic style, and he often discusses taboo subjects. In the short story presented here, Bibi Maryam o Préshtag (Mother Mary and the Angel), Haneef skilfully portrays human relationships, both problematic and respectful. He draws on his experience as a medical doctor when describing a protagonist who has lofty dreams but whose kidney problems prevent him from making them come true.
Stories by this Author
Mother Mary and the Angel
After a very long time he dreamed again, after about eleven years… He had not dreamt since he was thirty-five, and now he was an old man of forty-six. Today, as he was lying on his bed in the nephrology ward, he closed his ey...