From thefridaytimes.com
Step back to a spring evening in 1989, where a casual visit with literary giants sparked a discussion on the essence of writing
I remember. It was an evening in late spring, 1989.
Rafiq Mangi and I went to see Professor Zafar Hassan, a Geography professor at the University of Sindh, Jamshoro. He was also an editor, compiler, short-story writer, and politically conscious educationist. His official residence stood beside the Institute of Sindhology on the university's main campus. We knocked at the gate. Within minutes, a peon opened it and arranged four iron chairs near a sukh-chain tree. Soon, Professor Zafar Hassan came out to welcome us. We settled into our chairs and began talking about diary writing, one of his favourite subjects. Professor Hassan was himself a dedicated diarist who kept a diary regularly.
A few minutes later, the gate bell rang again. Instead of waiting for the peon, Professor Zafar rose and went to see who had arrived. He soon returned with Haleem Brohi, a novelist, author, celebrated satirist, and writer in both Sindhi and English. At the time, Haleem was a regular contributor to the English evening newspaper The Star.
Haleem held an unlit cigarette in his hand. He never smoked in front of Professor Zafar Hassan. Professor Zafar was strongly opposed to smoking; if a magazine carried a cigarette advertisement, he would even cancel his subscription.
Haleem took his chair, crossed his left leg over his right, and raised a hand as if asking permission to enter the discussion.
“What is common between a diary and a journal?” he asked.
For a moment, we remained silent.
Haleem smiled. With a small gesture, he indicated that he wanted to step outside for a cigarette. Then he gave his answer.
“They have one thing in common,” he said. “Both are sold at a stationery shop.”
We laughed.
He moved towards the gate, but after a few steps, he turned back.
“But the real question remains,” he said. “What should we write in a diary or a notebook?”
Then he went outside.
Seven or ten minutes later, Haleem returned. He sat down again and repeated the question.
“What should we write in a diary?”
He paused, looked at Professor Zafar Hassan, and continued.
“More importantly, what should a diarist learn before putting anything on paper?”
This time, he did not wait for an answer.
“The art of observation,” he said. “And for that, we have an excellent teacher in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes.”
Professor Zafar Hassan looked at him with interest.
Haleem leaned back in his chair.
“So,” he asked, “what can a diarist learn from Sherlock Holmes?”
That question opened a much larger conversation.
The Art of Noticing
Haleem held the unlit cigarette between his fingers and looked at Professor Zafar Hassan.
“Let us begin with Holmes,” he said. “Not with the mystery he solves, but with the way he looks at the world.”
Professor Hasan leaned back in his chair.
“What does a diarist have to learn from a detective?”
“Quite a lot,” Haleem replied. “A good detective and a good diarist begin with the same discipline. Both must pay attention.”
He paused and smiled.
“Take A Scandal in Bohemia.”
“The first story in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?” Professor Hassan asked.
“Yes. That story gives us one of Holmes's most useful lessons. Watson believes that his eyesight is as good as Holmes's. Holmes does not disagree. Instead, he draws a distinction between seeing and observing.”
The detective searches for clues because he wants to solve a case, while the diarist has another purpose: to preserve a moment before time alters it
Haleem leaned forward.
“Watson sees. Holmes observes.”
Professor Hassan nodded.
“But what does that mean for a diarist?”
“It means that looking is not enough. A diarist must notice.”
Haleem glanced towards the doorway.
“Anyone can see a room. The diarist notices its light, its furniture, its windows, and the way people occupy the space. Anyone can meet a person. The diarist watches the face, the hands, the voice, and the pauses. Anyone can walk through an old building. The diarist notices the blocked doorway, the faded sign, the repaired wall, or the new wire running across the old surface.”
Professor Hassan smiled.
“You want the diarist to become a detective?”
“No. I want the diarist to become more attentive.”
He tapped the cigarette lightly against his palm.
“The detective searches for clues because he wants to solve a case. The diarist has another purpose. He wants to preserve a moment before time alters it.”
Professor Hassan looked towards the garden.
“Why do small details matter so much?”
“Because they often survive when larger things disappear.”
Haleem spoke more slowly now.
“Years later, you may forget the exact words of a conversation. You may forget who entered the room first. You may even forget what began the discussion. Yet you may remember where you were sitting. You may remember the light on the wall. You may remember a person's hands or the sound of a gate opening.”
Professor Hassan considered this.
“Then should a diarist record everything?”
“No. That would bury the day under detail.”
“Then what should he choose?”
“What he notices.”
“And how does he know what will matter later?”
“He does not.”
That answer made Professor Hassan smile.
“That makes the task difficult.”
“It makes it honest,” Haleem replied. “The diarist cannot know which detail memory will keep. He can only remain awake to the moment.”
Observe Before You Interpret
“Suppose you enter an old building and decide at once that it has been neglected. What will you notice?”
“Broken windows. Cracked walls,” Professor Hassan replied.
“Exactly. Your conclusion has already chosen the evidence for you.”
“And if I suspend the conclusion?”
“Then you may see more.”
Haleem began to count on his fingers.
“You may find one room still in use. Someone may have repaired part of the roof. A new electrical connection may run along an old wall. An earlier doorway may have been blocked. A faded sign may remain beneath a newer one.”
He lowered his hand.
“Now the building tells a more complicated story.”
Professor Hassan nodded.
“So the first impression can mislead us.”
“It can narrow our vision,” Haleem said. “Holmes keeps looking because he knows that the first explanation may not be the right one.”
“That is why I would give a diarist one rule.”
Professor Hassan waited.
“Observe before you interpret.”
“What if I think I understand someone's behaviour?”
“Record what you saw first.”
“Suppose a person pauses before answering?”
“Write down the pause.”
“And if someone avoids a particular name?”
“Record the silence.”
“What if I believe I know the reason?”
“Then mark it as your impression. Do not turn your impression into a fact.”
Professor Hassan nodded.
“That rule would help a historian too.”
“Especially a historian,” Haleem replied. “The historian works with evidence that has already survived the passage of time. The diarist records evidence while the moment is still alive.”
Watch the Person, Not Just the Words
Haleem settled deeper into his chair.
“A diarist must also watch people.”
Professor Hassan raised an eyebrow.
“Watch them?”
“Carefully, not suspiciously.”
He smiled.
“A nervous person may keep moving his hands while speaking. A tired person may sit down before anyone invites him. Someone may smile when an old memory returns. Another person may fall silent when a particular name enters the conversation.”
Professor Hassan asked, “Would you write that the person was nervous?”
“I would write what I saw.”
“For example?”
“I might write that he kept rubbing his fingers together while answering.”
“And leave the reader to decide?”
“Leave the future reader to decide. More importantly, leave your future self room to decide.”
Professor Hassan laughed.
“That sounds very much like Holmes.”
“It is.”
Haleem leaned forward.
“Holmes does not need to announce that a man is nervous. He notices the evidence. He watches the hands, listens to the voice, and studies the behaviour. Then he draws his conclusion.”
“And the diarist should do the same?”
“Yes, but with one difference. Holmes uses observation to solve a mystery. The diarist uses observation to preserve experience.”
The Seventeen Steps
“Holmes gives us an even simpler example,” Haleem continued.
Professor Hassan smiled.
“The seventeen steps.”
“Remember the story: A Scandal in Bohemia.”
“How could I forget?”
Haleem nodded.
“Watson had walked those steps many times. He had seen them. Holmes had counted them.”
“Seventeen,” Professor Hassan said.
“Seventeen.”
Haleem leaned back.
“Those steps explain the difference between seeing and observing. Watson was not blind. He simply had no reason to count them. Holmes trained himself to notice what others passed without thought.”
Professor Hassan looked towards the doorway.
“So what should a diarist count?”
“Not everything.”
“Then what?”
“Whatever helps him recover the moment.”
Haleem glanced around the room.
“The number of windows may matter. The colour of a door may matter. The position of a tree may matter. The sound coming from the street may matter. Even the way someone holds a cup may matter.”
Professor Hassan smiled.
“That sounds like a lifetime of noticing.”
“It is.”
What Memory Keeps
For a moment, Haleem said nothing. Then he spoke more quietly.
“Memory is selective.”
Professor Hassan nodded.
“Exact words disappear. Voices fade. Dates become uncertain. Sometimes the sequence of an event becomes confused.”
“But a small detail survives?”
“Very often.”
Haleem looked towards us.
“A chair may bring back a conversation. A doorway may recall a visitor. An old photograph may restore a room that no longer exists. A familiar road may return an entire journey.”
Professor Hassan asked, “So the diarist should record the setting as well as the event?”
“Yes. The setting gives the event somewhere to live.”
“What should he remember?”
Haleem answered without rushing.
“Where he was sitting. Who was there. What the room looked like. What he could hear. What the person did while speaking. What caught his attention.”
Professor Hassan nodded.
“You are saying that detail gives memory something to hold.”
“Exactly.”
Haleem smiled.
“Memory needs a place to return to.”
The Danger of Hindsight
Professor Hassan lifted his teacup.
“What about hindsight? Does that not change everything?”
“It can.”
“How?”
“Because years later we know what happened next. That knowledge can change the way we remember the beginning.”
“Suppose you meet someone today. The meeting seems ordinary. Ten years later, that person is gone. You may then remember the meeting as though you knew it was important.”
Professor Hassan agreed.
“Although you did not know it then.”
“Exactly. That is the danger.”
“So what should the diarist do?”
“Preserve the meeting as it appeared at the time.”
“And if his understanding changes later?”
“Record that later understanding separately.”
Haleem raised a finger.
“Keep the two apart. Write what you saw then. Write what you understood later. Do not allow hindsight to rewrite the original moment.”
Professor Hassan nodded.
“That makes the diary more trustworthy.”
“It also makes it more human,” Haleem said. “We change. Our understanding changes. The old entry allows us to see both versions of ourselves.”
Look Again
Haleem picked up the cigarette but did not light it.
“There is another lesson from Holmes. Look again.”
Professor Hassan smiled.
“Because the first look may miss something?”
“The first look gives you an impression. The second may give you evidence.”
He glanced towards the doorway.
“A building may appear abandoned. Look again. One room may still be occupied.”
He turned back to us.
“A photograph may look ordinary. Look again. Someone may have been removed from it.”
After a moment, he added, “A document may seem complete. Look again. A sentence may have been added later.”
Professor Hassan nodded.
“So the second look can change the story.”
“Sometimes it can change everything.”
“Then a diarist should reread his own entries?”
“Especially years later.”
“Why?”
“Because the writer who rereads an old diary is no longer the person who wrote it.”
Professor Hassan considered the sentence.
“That is true.”
“Time gives the old words a new light. A sentence that seemed casual may suddenly matter. A name that once seemed ordinary may acquire a different weight. A detail that occupied one line may tell us more than the event that filled an entire page.”
The Discipline of a Diarist
Professor Hassan looked at Haleem.
“Then give me the method in a few words.”
Haleem thought for a moment.
“Look closely. Ask questions. Record what you actually see. Then separate the observation from the interpretation.”
Professor Hassan smiled.
“That sounds less like detective work and more like discipline.”
“It is discipline.”
“Does the diarist need Holmes to become a good diarist?”
“No. But Holmes can teach him how to pay attention.”
Haleem took a cigarette from the table and tucked it behind his left ear.
“A diarist does not need to solve mysteries. He needs to preserve moments.”
Professor Hassan agreed.
“And that is the connection?”
“Yes.”
Haleem took a slow draw and looked towards the garden.
“Holmes studies the world to solve a mystery. The diarist studies the world so that memory does not lose it.”
For a while, nobody spoke. The afternoon settled around the bungalow. The cups rested on the tray, and faint sounds came from beyond the garden.
Then Haleem looked back at Professor Hassan.
“If someone wants to keep a good diary,” he said, “do not begin by asking what the day meant.”
Professor Hassan waited.
“Begin by asking what the day gave you to notice.”
He paused.
“Write the room. Write the faces. Write the sounds. Write the small action that caught your eye. Write the words you remember, but do not improve them with hindsight.”
Professor Hassan smiled.
“And the meaning?”
“Let it come later.”
Haleem looked towards the garden once more.
“Sometimes,” he said, “the meaning takes years to arrive.”
Rafiq Mangi and I took our leave from Professor Zafar Hassan and Haleem Brohi. But I was unaware that the evening would stay with me. We went for a conversation about diary writing and left with a lesson in observation: look closely, listen carefully, and preserve the details that keep memory alive.
https://www.thefridaytimes.com/20-Aug-2026/seeing-vs-observing-diarist-can-learn-sherlock-holmes
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