Majaz is sitting across from me바카라He recites a poem and the children forget they were playing. It바카라s a Calcutta evening, Majaz is crying. It바카라s a Bambai night, Majaz is dancing. It바카라s blurred out Lucknow, Majaz walks on drenched in the rain. It바카라s a political rally, and Majaz looks pensive. It바카라s a poetic congregation or maybe a literary conference, Majaz seems intoxicated. His name is being announced on radio and he is just smiling. He is right here in front of me with a thousand hues of his personality바카라This night, December 5, 1955, concludes a thousand nights바카라Death had been calling him somewhere from the sky since long. And he too had been headed towards death.
This is how eminent Urdu poet Ali Sardar Jafri recalls his friend Asrarul Haq Majaz, better known as Majaz Lucknowi, in an obituary in his book Lucknow Ki Paanch Raatain. Jafri was a leading light of the Progressive Writers바카라 Association, which grew out of the friends-driven Progressive Writers바카라 Movement in pre-Partition India. The comradeship among them was based on a shared concern for the deprived, dispossessed and disadvantaged people. Stories of their friendship are now part of the subcontinent바카라s literary folklore as tales of universal human love and trust. Jafri바카라s book details the idealism that he and his fellow poets and authors inherited from the Independence movement, his travelogues, friendships and associations with world famous humanist poets like Pablo Neruda and Nazim Hikmet. In fact, Jafri had named his sons Nazim and Hikmet after the Turkish poet.
Due to mental health issues, Majaz was admitted to Ranchi바카라s psychiatric hospital바카라where Bengali poet Kazi Nazrul Islam too was undergoing treatment바카라with the help of Sarojini Naidu, who was closely associated with the progressive writers. Even though Majaz had been discharged, he hadn바카라t fully recovered. On December 4, 1955, Majaz was putting up with his friends, Sardar Jafri and Sahir, in a hotel room. Sahir had brought a bottle of exquisite whisky for him. A promise was extracted from Majaz that he won바카라t drink it during the day and wouldn바카라t go out with his Lucknow 바카라friends바카라 in the evening. On Majaz바카라s advice, the bottle was locked in a cupboard. In the afternoon, Sardar Jafri and Sahir left for a conference while Majaz was asleep. Their return to the hotel room got a little delayed. And during this period Majaz was whisked away by some of friends for a get together. In the bitter cold night, they kept drinking on the roof of a tavern under the open sky. Then they left one by one, leaving Majaz alone in an inebriated state. He died of brain haemorrhage and pneumonia the same night. He was 44.
On a TV show, Javed Akhtar, noted film writer and poet, once talked about the friendship between Majaz, who was his maternal uncle, and Sahir. Both of them had gone to Mumbai together to try their luck in the film industry. But Majaz was quick to realise the manipulations of the art market. So he returned to Lucknow whereas Sahir stayed put. Unlike Majaz, he didn바카라t have a place to call home. But before Sahir bid Majaz adieu at the railway station, he promised him, 바카라Next time when you come to Bambai, I바카라ll come to receive you along with my chauffeur.바카라
Even though Sahir was a close friend of Jan Nisar Akhtar, another prominent progressive poet and Javed Akhtar바카라s father, he was Javed바카라s friend as well. When Javed was struggling to find a foothold in the industry, he was not on speaking terms with his father. He would sleep on footpaths and corridors of buildings. He would usually visit Sahir in the evening. But one day, he appeared at his home in the morning. After breakfast, Javed requested Sahir to help him find some work.
Sahir, who was at the zenith of his career at that time, spoke some words of assurance nonchalantly while combing his hair. Talking about his own struggle, Sahir then pointed at some cash on a table, and told Javed, 바카라Take it and return it later.바카라 With a lump in his throat and moist eyes, Javed recalled it at a public function, 바카라Sahir could have handed the money to me. But look at the sensitivity of that man, he felt it may look offensive to me. He didn바카라t have the courage to do so. He was trying to give me money and yet was talking like a thief.바카라 After some time, Javed left his house with Rs 200바카라which according to him, used to be a big amount those days. Many years later, Javed adds, he too became a big name in the film industry. It was a time when he would touch soil and it would turn to gold. They were now working together and attending silver and golden jubilee celebrations of their films. At such parties, he would tease Sahir that he wouldn바카라t return his money. Occasionally, Sahir would shyly retort, 바카라I know how to get back my money.바카라
But this phase too didn바카라t last long. Sahir died of cardiac arrest on October 25, 1980. He was just 51. And Javed was the first among the few who reached his sprawling Juhu home, Parchhaiyan (Silhouettes), which was named after his epic war poem, within minutes after hearing the tragic news. Next day, as soon as Javed was leaving the Juhu Muslim Cemetery바카라where Sahir was laid to rest바카라a person approached him, saying, 바카라I left home in a hurry after hearing about Sahir바카라s demise. I forgot to bring my wallet. Do you have some money, we have to pay the gravedigger?바카라 As Javed reached for his wallet, he recounts, 바카라I enquired, 바카라How much?바카라 And pat came the reply, 바카라Rs. 200!바카라바카라 Javed, who has co-written blockbusters like Sholay and Deewar with Salim Khan, recently claimed he is better equipped than anyone else to write a biopic of Sahir.
Shabana Azmi recalls an interesting story about how she got admitted to an English-medium school. Those were the days when her family used to live in a Mumbai commune at Red Flat Hall of the Communist Party of India. Her school required that both parents speak English. So she had to fake her entry into the school through family friends. In a moving tribute to her father, she writes, 바카라Sultana Jafri, Sardar Jafri바카라s wife, pretended to be my mother and Munish Narayan Saxena, a friend of abba바카라s, pretended to be my father.바카라 Besides poetry, Kaifi Azmi, another progressive poet, was well-versed with the virtue of friendship in equal measure. A few years after Sahir바카라s death, when Kaifi came to Sahir바카라s birthplace Ludhiana to attend a mushaira, he poignantly remembered his friend:
Tumhare shehar mein aaye hain hum, Sahir kahan ho tum
Ye rooh-poshi tumhari hai sitam, Sahir kahan ho tum?
(We have arrived in your city, where are you Sahir
This absence of yours is a torment, where are you Sahir?)
When his filmmaker-actor friend Guru Dutt died in 1964, he wrote a ghazal, 바카라Rehne ko sada dehar me aata nahi koi, tum jaise gaye aise bhi jata nahi koi (No one comes to stay on this earth forever. Yet no one departs the way you did).바카라
Noted poet and writer Gulzar turns nostalgic talking about poet-lyricist Shailendra. During those days, Gulzar used to work in a garage. And he had met Shailendra during a practice session of the Bombay Youth Choir. He credits Shailendra for his entry into the film industry. 바카라He egged me constantly to write and that바카라s how I ended up penning my first song, Mora gora ang layle for Bimal Roy바카라s Bandini. He was my friend, philosopher, guide and I learnt a lot from him.바카라 From those days, Gulzar cites an example of comradeship between Indian and the Pakistani writers and artists. Faiz Ahmad Faiz had been imprisoned when his poem Hum jo tareekh raahon mein mare gaye (We who were executed in the darkest lanes), slipped out of jail. Believing that Faiz was feeling depressed, a meeting was held and it was decided that a written representation would be sent to the Pakistan government, reassuring Faiz that the movement was still on and he must not feel disheartened. The poem, however, was Faiz바카라s tribute to American couple Julius Rosenberg and Ethel Rosenberg, who were executed on the electric chair for their 바카라political ideology바카라. It is widely believed that they were framed by the government for holding communist views and during the trial, the couple was demonised by the press for their leftist ideals.
Interestingly, there are several examples in Urdu poetry, where poet friends borrowed lines from each other. On the insistence of film director Yash Chopra, Majrooh Sultanpuri borrowed a telling line from Faiz바카라s iconic poem Mujh se pehli se mohabbat mere mehboob na maang (My love, don바카라t ask me for the love we once shared). Chopra was adamant to have the sentence Teri aankhon ke siwa duniya mein rakha kya hai (What is there to behold in this world except for your eyes) weaved into a song for Chirag (1969) starring Sunil Dutt and Asha Parekh. Sultantpuri wrote to Faiz, requesting permission to let him use his sentence. Being a good old friend, Faiz agreed readily. And later, the song was immortalised by Mohammad Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar.
When Majaz was taunted for his drinking habit, he would fire back, Main sharaab peeta hon, tum kya peetay ho? Aadmi ka khoon? (I drink liquor, what do you drink? Human blood?) Sahir used this expression when he wrote lyrics for a song sung by Mohammad Rafi in Naya Raasta (1970). It was picturised on Balraj Sahni: Maine pi sharaab, tumne kya piya? Aadmi ka khoon?
The friendships that were forged in the pre-Partition days continued to thrive despite wars and strained diplomatic relationships between India and Pakistan. Needless to say, the culture, history and the struggles of the common people didn바카라t see much change even after Partition and creation of three countries, India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Faiz and Makhdoom Mohiuddin were also good friends and fellow poets. Faiz chose Pakistan whereas Makhdoom stayed in India after Partition. On hearing about Makhdoom바카라s death in 1969, Faiz wrote an evocative poem using rhymes and metre of Makhdoom바카라s immensely popular ghazal, Aap ki yaad aati rahi raat bhar (Memories of yours kept overwhelming me, all night long). Similarly, Sardar Jafri wrote a poem in response to a poem written by Pakistani poet, Ahmad Faraz, that talked about friendship between India and Pakistan: Chalo main haath badhaata hun dosti ke liye. (Come on, let me extend the hand of friend!) And Jafri replied:
Tum aao gulshan-e-Lahore se chaman-bardosh
Ham aaen subh-e-banaras ki roshni le kar
Himalaya ki havaon ki taazgi le kar
Phir is ke baad ye puchhein ki kaun dushman hai!
(You bring us flowers from the garden of Lahore
We bring the dawn of Benaras for you,
We bring the fresh Himalayan breeze for you,
Then let us sit down and ask each other,
Who is the enemy now?)
A strong votary of India-Pakistan friendship, Sardar Jafri believed that Partition was irrevocable and both the countries need to reconcile with it to transcend an ugly past. When Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee made the historic peace trip to Pakistan, he presented Sarhad, an album of anti-war poems penned by Sardar Jafri and sung by Seema Anil Sehgal to his Pakistani counterpart Nawaz Sharif as a gift from India. And this is how his friend I.K. Gujral, another former Prime Minister, remembered Sardar Jafri after his death, in an article titled In Love With Poetry and Revolution: 바카라Sardar Jafri was a true nationalist, a tall thinker and protagonist of composite culture of India.바카라 According to him, Sardar Jafri was never after money or material things. 바카라One quality with Sardar was that he never told you of his financial difficulties. He never asked for a personal favour,바카라 he narrates, adding, 바카라A good company of friends, a heart full of compassion for the poor, love for children, optimism, humanism and a strong belief in Indo-Pak peace were some traits of his impressive personality.바카라
After the Kargil war, Gulzar wrote a poem in which he poignantly remembered his late friend Ahmad Faraz through metaphors from one of latter바카라s popular ghazals. The poem was also an ode to ghazal singer Mehdi Hassan, who was suffering from throat cancer at that point in time:
Aankhon ko visa nahi lagta
Sapnon ki sarhad hoti nahi
(No visas are required for the eyes,
Dreams know no borders)
Ghazal maestro Jagjit Singh and poet Nida Fazli too were great friends and votaries of India-Pakisan friendship. 바카라My condition is just like a bird separated from its flock,바카라 Nida told this writer once in 2011, referring to deaths of his friends, including Jagjit Singh in quick succession. Incidentally, Jagjit was born on February 8, 1941. Nida died on February 8, 2016. Speaking at a commemoration function, the poet who had teamed up on several occasions with Jagjit, paid tribute to him:
Khamoshi aaeena ban jaati hai,
Teri aawaz nazar aati hai !
(Silence turns into a mirror,
Your voice becomes visible)
