When Fragments of Riversong first appeared a decade ago, it did more than merely introduce Farah Ghuznavi as a significant literary voice; it signalled a transformation in Bangladeshi English-language fiction.
Published by Daily Star Books, the collection was an instant success, with its first edition swiftly selling out and drawing widespread acclaim for its unflinching portrayal of life in Bangladesh. Now, in its 10th Anniversary Edition brought out by Nymphea Publication, the collection returns, expanded with new stories, a deeply personal author’s note, an updated original manuscript, and -- for the first time -- a dazzling section of flash fiction titled Fiction Bites.
The book is beautifully reimagined through the outstanding design and production quality Nymphea is famous for, and very affordably priced. The paperback is already available, the hardback follows in a few weeks' time.
Farah Ghuznavi’s work has always been marked by its profound ability to capture the contradictions of a society in flux. Her stories, often told from the perspectives of women, children, and the marginalized, are imbued with the texture of lived experience.
Yet they also transcend the specificities of their setting, delving into broader themes of resilience, loss, and the quest for identity, that resonate beyond their immediate context. The 10th Anniversary Edition is far more than a reprint; it reaffirms the book’s impact, even as the new stories showcase the growth of an author redefining Bangladeshi storytelling.
The opening story, Getting There, is a quintessential example of Ghuznavi’s craft. Laila, a young architect, is on a road trip from Chittagong to Dhaka with her nieces, navigating not just the physical journey but the emotional terrain of her relationship with her sister, Shaheen.
Through humour, introspection, and deft social critique, Ghuznavi lays bare the fractures within familial bonds and the quiet courage it takes to mend them. The storyline is layered yet accessible, intimate yet relatable for readers across cultural boundaries.
Equally poignant is The Homecoming, a story rooted in the legacy of Bangladesh’s Liberation War. A young man returning to his village to reconcile with loss and memory is impressively written with an understated power.
Ghuznavi does not sensationalize trauma; instead, she lets the silences between words speak volumes, creating a narrative that is as much about healing as it is about pain.
Other stories, like Big Mother and The Storm Within, delve into the nuances of identity and autonomy in a patriarchal society. In Big Mother, Lali struggles against the oppressive control of her stepmother while dreaming of a better life in America. The story’s ending is both hopeful and deeply satisfying, a reflection of Ghuznavi’s ability to blend realism with optimism.
A new addition to the book, Southern Exposure is a layered exploration of cultural dissonance and personal awakening, told with sharp humour and emotional depth. The narrative centres on Meera, a Bangladeshi student, as she reluctantly hosts her American friend Steve during his first visit to South Asia. Initially embodying Western privilege -- ignorant, entitled, and culturally insensitive -- the reader follows Steve's gradual journey into self-reflection.
Ghuznavi’s prose vividly captures the contrasts between Steve’s sheltered world and the kaleidoscopic allure of Dhaka, using the settings to reflect deeper tensions of identity and belonging.
Through Meera’s incisive perspective, the story interrogates the limits of hospitality and the complexities of cross-cultural friendships. Yet, it never veers into cynicism, balancing its critique with moments of tenderness and humour, ultimately convincing readers to reconsider their own biases and privilege.
Beyond the urban sprawl, The Mosquito Net Confessions follows Diya, a Grameen Bank employee, as she grapples with her insecurities during an important field trip with African visitors. The story is as much about the challenges and stereotypes faced by Bangladeshi team members as it is the experiential learning planned for the foreign travellers, offering a nuanced portrayal of Bangladesh’s rural landscape.
What makes Fragments of Riversong extraordinary is its tonal and thematic range. Each story, while distinct, weaves a common thread of humanity, capturing moments of quiet transformation, personal reckonings, and the search for meaning in the chaos of everyday life.
From the biting humour of Old Delhi, New Tricks, which follows two women navigating cultural mishaps in India, to the heart-wrenching Escaping the Mirror, a story of a young girl enduring abuse, Ghuznavi demonstrates a mastery of diverse voices and perspectives. In Losing Bindu, she examines the intricate dynamics of a conjugal relationship through the lens of twins, Bishal and Bindu, crafting an account that is both emotionally charged and thought-provoking.
The addition of the Fiction Bites section in this edition is a testament to Ghuznavi’s versatility. This collection of flash fiction features a special introduction from the author, setting the stage for pieces that are sharp, incisive, and immediate.
Fairytales for Modern Girls dismantles gender stereotypes with wit and irreverence, while To Laika, With Love uses the story of the Soviet space dog to comment on human failings. The placement of these flash fiction pieces as a distinct section enhances the reading experience, allowing the longer narratives to retain their immersive quality while offering a change of pace that feels deliberate and well-considered.
One of Ghuznavi’s greatest strengths is her refusal to simplify the layers of Bangladeshi life. Her characters are deeply flawed yet achingly human, their struggles rendered with empathy and precision.
Through vivid, often painful portrayals of the inner lives of her characters, Ghuznavi does more than write stories -- she creates spaces where readers can see themselves reflected in ways that are both confronting and liberating.
In The Guava Tree Rebellion, a grandmother’s unconventional child-rearing methods become a source of tension and eventual understanding between generations. The collection's subtle yet powerful critiques of societal structures serve not only as a reflection of Bangladesh's evolving identity but also as a universal commentary on power, privilege, and inequality. highlighting the small, silent rebellions that shape our lives.
The Assessment, a rare foray into dystopian fiction, uses its speculative setting to critique societal hierarchies, proving that Ghuznavi’s voice is as effective in imagining the future as it is in capturing the present experience.
Great stories live in the details, and Farah Ghuznavi understands this better than most. One of the hallmarks of her writing style is meticulous attention to detail. Whether she’s capturing the chaotic vibrancy of cities like Delhi and Dhaka or the hushed perseverance of a rural village, her descriptions transport readers.
Every image is vivid, evocative, and purposeful. The dialogue flows effortlessly in her stories, never feeling contrived or heavy-handed. Instead, it serves as a window into the inner lives of her characters, peeling back layers to reveal their vulnerabilities, desires, and conflicts.
Ghuznavi’s commitment to authenticity is another cornerstone of her craft. She draws heavily from real-life experiences and keen observation of the world around her. Her discipline as a writer is evident in every carefully chosen word, every rhythmically constructed sentence.
Her work often explores themes of inequality, resilience, and social justice -- issues she’s encountered first-hand. This fusion of creative insight and professional experience gives her narratives a rare depth, making them not just stories, but windows into the complex realities of contemporary Bangladesh. Readers don’t just finish her work; they carry it with them.
The critical acclaim is well-deserved. Literary luminaries, like Christopher Merrill, in charge of the renowned writing program at the University of Iowa, internationally bestselling author Prajwal Parajuly, and national icons like Syed Shamsul Haq have praised Ghuznavi’s storytelling, with their endorsements included in this edition alongside international literary publications such as the American journal World Literature Today.
These tributes underscore the collection’s significance as both a literary achievement and a cultural artefact. In a world where English-language literature from South Asia often caters to Western tastes, Ghuznavi’s work stands as a bold assertion of authenticity, unfiltered and unapologetic.
Fragments of Riversong is an experience that offers readers glimpses of Bangladesh, its beauty, chaos, and contradictions. For new readers, this special edition is the perfect entry point into Farah Ghuznavi’s world.
With each page, Ghuznavi proves that her work is not just about the individual stories themselves, but the collective narrative of a nation that is still fighting for the recognition of its culture.
For long-time admirers, it is a chance to rediscover the stories that have left an indelible mark on Bangladeshi literature and to encounter the new material that makes up one-third of this anniversary edition.
Ghuznavi writes with a voice that is both timeless and urgently contemporary, bridging the gap between the local and the global with grace and power. This new edition of Fragments of Riversong celebrates the craft of storytelling, reminding readers of fiction’s ability to illuminate lives, forge connections, and inspire change.
It is, without exaggeration, a cornerstone of contemporary Bangladeshi literature that belongs on every discerning reader’s shelf.
The publishers' stall at the Boi Mela is offering the book at 25% off, and it’s available for purchase at the regular price of Tk660 in-store from Baatighar and Bookworm Bangladesh, or online at Rokomari.com and at Nymphea Publication's website. Personally inscribed copies can be obtained by contacting the author @farahghuznavi on Instagram or Facebook.
Zareef Daian is a Bangladeshi writer dedicated to exploring the fractures of identity, the modern society, and its perplexing fixation with power.
