Memoirs that resemble hagiographical texts are grossly unreliable as they fail to present a nuanced portrait of reality. Syed Nizam Shah’s Paradise Lost: A Journey from Kashmir to Karachi marks a radical departure from such texts as it is fuelled by refreshing candour and objectivity.
Conventional wisdom would have us believe that an autobiography relies heavily on facts to act as doorways to a personal truth that is often shielded from disclosure. Shah’s 280-page account doesn’t intend to peel back the layers of his personal life. The author’s canvas is broader and captures the larger movements of history that shaped his consciousness. As a result, any attempts to label the book as a strictly personal memoir would be fundamentally flawed. The public sphere is an inescapable feature of Shah’s memoir and serves as a testament to his vast professional credentials. Shah is widely known in the fields of industrial management and finance and has held prominent positions in the public and private sectors. Even so, the creative thrust of the author’s narrative is steered by his unique identity as a Srinagar-born Kashmiri who has cultivated a home in Karachi.
In a string of propulsively readable chapters, Shah delves into the many milestones and pitfalls of his life as a Kashmiri migrant in Pakistan. It is difficult to ignore the sheer topicality of the memoir in a geopolitical context. The illegal annexation of Indian Occupied Kashmir in August 2019 remains a controversial subject that few in Pakistan can forgive or forget. At first glance, discerning readers may view Paradise Lost as a gut-wrenching reminder of the sacrifices rendered by Kashmiris to secure a future for Pakistan. There is some merit to such claims as a sizable chunk of the memoir focuses on his time in Karachi.
In the initial chapters, the magnetic pull of Shah’s childhood in Kashmir shines through in the memoir. The narrative is seeded with nostalgic musings of the labyrinthine streets of Srinagar and the distinct spirit of tolerance that now seems like an anachronism. According to Shah, the “air of neutrality” in Srinagar helped him “forge friendships regardless of geographical, ethnic or religious identities”. The exposure he received during his early life avowedly sharpened his ability to tackle the challenges of his professional life with aplomb.
Shah’s affinities with Kashmir remain intact even after it was divided between two countries. As the decades went by, the paradise of his youth became a warzone where bloodbaths became routine. Shah didn’t raise a public outcry over these changes and remained circumspect. The spirit of caution is imbued into the narrative. It serves as a much-needed reality check and a reminder that formal structures and institutions bear the potential to effect change. He writes: “Kashmiris see Pakistan as a champion of their right of self-determination. They believe that a strong and stable Pakistan is crucial for their survival”.
At its core, Paradise Lost is a tale of two realities. On the one hand, it is a paean to a lost world in the Kashmir Valley that the author still values like a precious gem and, on the other, it is an ode to his current life in Karachi. A tightly-braided chapter titled ‘The Karachi That Was’ shows how the city morphed from a quiet, restorative haven by the sea to a cesspool of ethnic strife.
Memorable because of its skilful evocation of a forgotten era, Shah’s memoir provides useful insights about the ways in which history, commerce and politics can make and break a nation’s destiny. Paradise Lost is a multifaceted account about a migrant’s struggle to survive the onslaught of the past by using the promise of the future as a panacea. 
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