In the quiet corners of the old Gulf — beneath the fading call of the adhan, behind weather-worn minarets, and among the forgotten scrolls of village mosques — lie stories that history books seldom tell. For Mohsen Fallahian, Emirati novelist and literary scholar, these silent histories are not just echoes of the past — they are invitations to imagine, remember, and write.

A former journalist, acquisitions editor, and now a full-time writer and teacher, Fallahian has dedicated much of his literary career to uncovering and reimagining the lives of those overlooked by mainstream historical narratives. Through his award-winning novels, most notably The Silent Minaret, he gives voice to the ordinary scholars, mystics, wanderers, and rebels who once walked the alleys of 19th-century Abu Dhabi and beyond.

History as a Human Story

Unlike the formal tone of academic history or the nationalistic framing of textbooks, Fallahian approaches history through emotion, ambiguity, and introspection. His protagonists often find themselves caught between the expectations of tradition and the burden of independent thought — a reflection, perhaps, of the author’s own fascination with the boundaries of faith, knowledge, and power.

“In every corner of our cities, especially the older ones, there are stories left untold,” Fallahian says. “Not of rulers or warriors — we know those. I’m interested in the silent ones: the scribe who questioned the official version of events, the imam who collected poetry, the servant who knew the secrets of the elite.”

This ethos is at the heart of The Silent Minaret, his second novel and perhaps his most celebrated work. Set in the late 1800s, the book follows a reclusive scholar, Tahir, who dares to challenge the religious and political authorities of his time. Inspired by real accounts found in obscure Gulf manuscripts, the story explores what happens when faith collides with intellect, and when loyalty to truth threatens one’s place in society.

Crafting Fiction from Fragments

Fallahian is quick to admit that he does not aim for perfect historical accuracy — instead, he constructs his narratives from historical fragments, oral legends, and personal imagination. “I don’t write history. I write through it,” he explains. “I use fiction to explore the emotional and moral texture of a time, not just its events.”

His process often begins in archives — dusty libraries in Sharjah, Al Ain, or even personal family collections. But just as often, it begins in conversation with elders who remember stories passed down through generations. “Sometimes a single phrase, a folk riddle, or a proverb can unlock an entire subplot,” he notes.

This layered method of storytelling gives his novels a rich sense of place — not just in geography, but in spiritual and cultural context. His mosques are not merely architectural; they are spaces of reflection, rebellion, and sometimes, quiet despair.

The Minaret as Symbol

The minaret — a recurring motif in Fallahian’s work — becomes more than a religious structure. It symbolizes silence, elevation, and the thin line between visibility and invisibility.

In The Silent Minaret, Tahir retreats into silence, mirroring the architectural symbol that stands above the city, always present yet rarely noticed. The minaret speaks without words, much like those whose stories Fallahian seeks to tell.

“It’s easy to overlook what doesn’t make noise,” he says. “But silence can be a form of protest. And often, the most transformative figures in our history were the quietest ones.”

Literature as Restoration

Fallahian’s literary mission is not just creative — it’s restorative. He believes that fiction can act as a cultural memory bank, a space where suppressed or sidelined stories can breathe again.

In the UAE, where the pace of modernization has sometimes left heritage in its shadow, his work helps reconnect younger generations to the layered complexities of their past. It’s a role he takes seriously, especially as a creative writing instructor at the Mohammed bin Rashid Library and host of the "Tales from the Gulf" podcast.

“Young Emirati writers are often surprised to discover how rich and diverse their own history is,” he says. “My goal isn’t to teach them what to write — it’s to remind them that they already carry stories worth telling.”

Beyond the Page

For Fallahian, historical fiction isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about illumination — turning the dim corners of the past into lanterns for the present. His characters may be fictional, but the questions they wrestle with — faith vs. freedom, tradition vs. change — are timeless and deeply relevant in today’s rapidly evolving Gulf.

“In the end,” he reflects, “I write to remember — not just for myself, but for my people, and for those who will come after us. Because when we stop remembering, we stop being.”