Bilal Tanweer
Bilal Tanweer
Full Name and Common Aliases
Bilal Tanweer's full name is Bilal Tanweer. He is commonly known by his pen name, Bilal.
Birth and Death Dates
Bilal Tanweer was born on 1987 in Pakistan.
Nationality and Profession(s)
Tanweer holds Pakistani nationality and has worked as a journalist, writer, and activist.
Early Life and Background
Growing up in Lahore, Pakistan, Tanweer developed an interest in writing at a young age. He began his career in journalism, working for various publications before transitioning to non-fiction writing.
Major Accomplishments
Tanweer's notable achievements include winning the 2011-2012 Charles Wallace Doctoral Fellowship and being shortlisted for the 2013 BBC International Short Story Prize.
Notable Works or Actions
His most well-known work is _The Body in the Suitcase_, a non-fiction book exploring Pakistan's history through crime stories. Tanweer has also been involved in various writing workshops, promoting creative writing among underprivileged communities.
Impact and Legacy
Tanweer's writing focuses on shedding light on the darker aspects of human nature and society, often tackling sensitive topics like crime and corruption. His ability to weave engaging narratives has helped readers confront uncomfortable truths about Pakistan's past and present.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
Bilal Tanweer is widely quoted and remembered for his thought-provoking writings that have sparked discussions on human nature, society, and the complexities of life in Pakistan. His unique approach to storytelling has earned him recognition as a prominent writer and journalist, making him an important voice in contemporary Pakistani literature.
Tanweer's ability to tackle difficult subjects with sensitivity and nuance has made his work widely read and respected. As a result, he is often sought out for quotes and insights on topics related to crime, corruption, and social issues in Pakistan.
Quotes by Bilal Tanweer
Bilal Tanweer's insights on:
The sea, you see, feels good for only a few days, but then it starts suffocating you. You first escape to the sea to escape yourself, but after a while that's all you find there. City is better that way. There are too many lanes and alleys. You never run into yourself there.
You just gave her an angry glance in return. It was the kind of glance that children give their parents when they know exactly the kind of total power they have over them and when the temptation to shatter them with one word, one phrase is overwhelming, but something – just the vague knowledge perhaps that the mess they create would be too great to gather – holds them back.
Ever seen a bullet-smashed windscreen? The hole at the center becomes an eye. You see less through it but you gain focus, sharpness. That's how it is -- our wounds become our eyes. Seeing outside becomes seeing inside. Listen.
My dear, you are not one person. You have many people in you, and each one can ask only some kinds of questions.
for the first time I am confronted with the fact that places and people are like things: both made of memories and meaningful to us in the same way: we construct ourselves in our conversations with them.
You see, my son, a city is all about how you look at it...We must learn to see it in many ways, so that when one of the ways of looking hurts us, we can take refuge in another way of looking. You must always love the city.
We must learn to see it in many ways, so that when one of the ways of looking hurts us, we can take refuge in another way of looking. You must always love the city.
That was the strange problem with writing, you had discovered. Meaning never matched the words and words always evaded the thought.