By S.Sarwar.Malik
Death is inevitable, so is the appearance of press releases or speeches, by way of tribute or obituary; more true by politicians or those resembling their ilk-ever ready with the stereotyped stuff; doling-out such statements as “vacuum created”… “I was shocked”…. “He was an embodiment of virtues & qualities” etc. Readers, as well as the writers, know how honest the statements are yet nobody feels uncomfortable. Probably there exists logic in uttering even blatant lies at such formal occasions. It is after all a mere formality with most of them; ‘where the heart needs not speak’. Thus these statements are expectedly drab.
Probably that is the reason, till my retirement from Govtt. service and before donning my present day white-haired- look, I usually extended excuses and apology when called to speak at formal functions held on retirement of office mates or demise of acquaintances. Not that I always escaped such ordeals when my friends & acquaintances expected materials similar to “26 Jan. mushaira “ or welcome addresses “ eulogizing chief guests (who other than Hon’ble VIP’s? )- I hardly knew or liked ( even for that matter ; during my active Government service, superior officers/bureaucrats)”. Thanks to the shadow-writing pastime, of yore, it is less painful to re- read the pieces carried under the name of someone else ,or hear the words thrust into the address system by somebody else-while I stole a nap or silently consoled myself by words “untrue…false…fake…lies and nothing more”.
For reasons like these I was not at all particular to hear what people had written or said by way of obituary or tribute when famous persons died. But…but…but…
One big exception & one somewhat not so big one. First one, today, I mention very briefly, but in bold font, because it concerns my soul, viz:
“ One day, that year, I “One day, that year, I was sitting with some conversing friends-who had dropped in for teemardari & haal chaal deryaft kernay kay liye; ( somewhat disinterested in the topic of conversation; but more so because of my back ache…) When one of them informed me thus : Mustafa saebbin anniversary manaven Hussaini halluss manz.
It so happened that my head & heart corroborated during late hours that day and an urdu poem was born. I contacted one of the sons of Moulana Mustafa Ansari Saeb, Who agreed to my request about its recitation on the said date and also published it in this Newspaper, which you are holding in your hands dear reader. [[ Some time, readers might see what this humble- penman wrote some days back, (and mailed it too; that might see the light of day, later ) , when the revered mother of Sajjad, & S and H Ansari’s; passed away. ]].
Now back to the other Person, who was part and also subject of my recently published write up’s part IV… about Sahir Ludhyanvi’s anti war poem, parchhaiyaan; rechristened by me as PSALMS OF PEACE, in my Rendition. ( I had to request the Opinion Editor of K.O to hold back this part of my already- mailed article and to wait for incorporation of appropriate lines, here & there). You remembered it rightly but guess who?…. yes Amrita Preetam; the well known Punjabi poetess.
During the month, when Amrita Pritam ( 1919- 2005 ), left the literary scene, I regretted not hearing promptly what her close associates had said. So one evening,I was consoling myself: imagining Sahir Ludhianvi repeating in heaven what earlier Amrita Pritam had said on Sahir’s demise.
[ Caution :I have never verified the veracity of the report and even today I do not consider it necessary to do so because deep inside I see that such genuine sentiments and expressions of uncensored feelings can come from a person like Sahir or Amrita, alone.]
It is said that the news of his death first left her speechless -the most profound response. Later in the day she narrated an incident of bye-gone days when both of them, along with some other men of repute were invited to a function, organized to honour them with robes. Engrossed in the tete they had to be goaded to hurry and don the robes as the time of function was approaching fast. As they were the last to enter the green room Sahir and Amrita hurriedly put on the robes only to discover on the dais that the one carrying the name of Amrita was donned by Sahir and vice versa-triggering mischievous smiles from spectators. Relating this, Amrita said on the day of Sahir’s demise:
“…..probably the Angel of death read the name ,Sahir Ludhianvi, on the robe; not knowing the wearer was actually Amrita, whose death has come, today”.
So O’ Amrita, on this day of 2024 , from this valley of Kashmir, one unknown penman is writing: …I know not of “lakhaan teeyain” of Punjab but I hear a voice of welcome
“Tu dhaktay hovay aariz ki shoayein layker…
gulshudah shammein jalanay ko challi aayee hai”
….isn’t it the same old Sahir?
Dear reader, hear with me and recite with me, the words of Warris Shah before I bid you farewell, today, including English rendition of a poem of Amrita , as tailpiece :
“When you leave for the next world,
Do a favour unto me,
Do not steal a glance
Of my face, please.”//
Now the translation:
Inscribed on my palm, a pledge resides,/
Agony’s script, where love abides./
Faith’s line soars above the rest,/
Love speaks in silence, unexpressed.//
“How long will love endure?”/ You seek to know,/
Love thrives wordlessly, its essence aglow./
No need for speech in love’s grandeur,/
Its wealth beyond words, a silent grandeur./
Breath fleeting, bound to life’s decree,/
Yet our love etched in eternity./
No rehashed tales from the past’s design,/
Love’s story is fresh, in each unique line.//
Anguish’s arrows sting and stab,/
Hope flickers where edges grab./
Amidst pain’s grasp, amid the strife,/
Hope awakens, breathing life.//
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