Ibn_e_Ramadan

The "Imran Series" by Ibn-e-Safi is a renowned collection of Urdu spy novels, centered around the character Ali Imran, a secret agent working for the secret service of an unnamed country. The series, started in the early 1950s, blends elements of mystery, adventure, and humor, creating a unique and captivating narrative style.

Ali Imran, the protagonist, is portrayed as a deceptively goofy and frivolous character, often underestimated by his adversaries due to his seemingly inept behavior. However, beneath this facade lies a brilliant and cunning mind, making him an exceptional detective and spy. Imran operates under various aliases and employs an eclectic team of assistants to tackle criminal masterminds, thwart espionage plots, and unravel complex mysteries.

The series features a rich array of recurring characters, including Imran's loyal sidekicks like Joseph Mugonda, a strongman with a gentle heart, and the beautiful yet deadly Julia. Each novel introduces readers to new villains and intricate plots, keeping the stories fresh and engaging. The blend of action, intrigue, and humor, along with Safi's vivid and witty writing, has earned the "Imran Series" a cherished place in South Asian literature, continuing to captivate readers across generations.

Disclaimer: I'm not the writer of this series. The original writer was actually "Asrar Ahmed" and he wrote this beautiful series of novels by the alias of "Ibn-e-Safi" (1928-1980). The original series was in Urdu language. I'm a big fan of "Ibn-e-Safi" and "Imran Series". I wanted to bring this series to global readers, so I am translating it into English and putting it on this large platform.

Imran Series by Ibn_e_Safi

Imran kept thinking for a while and then said, "Yes! And I asked about the plaster of this room."

"Judge Sahib showed ignorance about it. However, he mentioned that his friend's death occurred in this room."

"No, natural death, according to the villagers, he had been ill for a long time."

"He bought this mansion from whom?" Imran asked.

"What's the point of this discussion! Why are you so interested in this mansion?"

"Ask the beloved one-eyed elder about it."

Fayyaz got up and left! As soon as he left, the two women entered the drawing-room.

"Where did they go!" Fayyaz's wife asked.

"Drinking alcohol," Imran said seriously.

"What?" Fayyaz's wife exclaimed, then chuckled.

"We always have a little before dinner," Imran said.

"You are misunderstanding... it's a tank."

"It's not difficult to put alcohol in an empty bottle!"

"You want to tease," Fayyaz's wife laughed.

"Is there something wrong with your eyes?" Imran addressed Rabia.

"Yes... no... no," Rabia's nervousness started to show.

"Nothing," Fayyaz's wife quickly replied. "She can't tolerate bright lights, so this fountain..."

"Oh, okay!" Imran nodded. "What was I thinking just now?"

"You were probably thinking that Fayyaz's wife is very outspoken. Dinner couldn't even be prepared yet."

"No, that's not it. My biggest problem is that I forget very quickly! I forget what I was thinking about while thinking. I might forget right now who you are and where I am? My family keeps nagging me all the time."

"Meaning that if I make a mistake, I'll correct it without hesitation," Imran said.

This conversation was still going on when Fayyaz returned.

"How long until dinner?" he asked his wife.

Fayyaz didn't mention the keys, and from Imran's demeanor, it seemed as if he had forgotten where he had sent Fayyaz.

A little later, dinner was served.

During dinner, tears were flowing from Imran's eyes. Everyone saw, but no one asked, especially Fayyaz, who claimed to know every inch of Imran's soul, couldn't understand. Fayyaz's wife and Rabia kept looking at him with puzzled eyes. The tears were somehow not mentioned. Even Imran himself seemed unaware of those tears. Finally, Fayyaz's wife couldn't contain herself and asked.

"Is there too much chili in something?"

"Tears... where?" Imran, rubbing his face, said, "Oh... no power, no strength. Maybe it's that... I didn't feel it definitively."

"What's the matter?" Fayyaz asked.

"In fact, seeing a roasted chicken reminded me of the death of a loved one."

"What? Seeing a roasted chicken?" Fayyaz's wife said in astonishment.

"Why on earth seeing a roasted chicken?"

"In fact, the concept of hell was in my mind! Seeing a musallam chicken made me think of a mussallam person. The name of my loved one is Aslam, and 'Aslam' became 'musallam'... Then the thought of his death came to mind. Then I thought, if he were thrown into hell, Aslam musallim... May God forbid!"

"What a strange man," Fayyaz said, shaking his head.

Judge Sahib's daughter Rabia was laughing uncontrollably.

"When did he pass away?" Fayyaz's wife asked.

"He hasn't passed away yet," Imran said simply and busied himself with eating.

"Friend, I'm afraid you might end up being truly mad somewhere."

"No, as long as Coca-Cola is available in the market, I can't go mad."

"I don't know!... But I feel this way anyway."

Even after dinner was over, perhaps Judge Sahib's daughter wanted to stay there. But Fayyaz's wife took her away with some excuse, perhaps Fayyaz had hinted at it. "As soon as they left, Faiyaz handed Imran the key and, after observing the key for a while, Imran spoke."

"It's replica has just been made recently. It has wax particles inside the holes! Wax mold - you understand, right?"

Reflections of Grief and Absurdity, Replica