Keeping you updated on your birthday

On one of your previous birthdays many years ago

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Soon after you were assassinated and left us, the Government here named a Road after you … but, as usual, the name started with a 'Seen' (س) instead of a 'Suad' (ص). The Road had been named after you by Nafisa Shah (and Nasreen Jalil helped, too).

I was most upset and wrote to both of them and to Farooq Sattar to please change the name. No response.

I wrote to Awab Alvi, since his father is the President, and Awab was a friend of ours — in fact those two were the first to arrive at JPMC when we took you there — to try and intervene via his Dad. No response. 

Sharif Awan said he'd get it done and tried and tried. Nothing happened.

Isa Daudpota's father's name on the road read Dr Daud Pota. He said he had tried but no one wants to change it. I should give this up.

I tried even going there and painting it but friends told me I could be arrested … so I gave up this idea. After all, who wants to be on the wrong side of the Police, or Rangers, or worse: Bhatta-khors.

This year I started again.

I wrote on FB and Twitter that this had happened and no one has helped.

Kasim K said I should paint it. Two others also said the same thing. I said I'd like this to happen officially. Their responses were really 'snickering' for my waiting for someone to do this.

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Then I saw a message from Sen Murtaza Wahab of PPP asking me to send him the picture of the road. I sent it to him. He said he wanted a family member to write a letter and state the wrong name and say how the person was related. I spoke to Mimi and she spoke to Marvi who wrote a letter. Mimi signed it and added pictures and off it went.

Two days later we received a picture from Sen MW saying this was temporary but it had the name spelt right. The next morning he sent the final picture and the road was now with a 'Suad'. Wow! I have never seen anyone do anything good that fast in our Governments.

Marvi has worked with Sen MW so she set up a group on What's App with Mimi and him and me … and we reached a point where Mimi said she wanted to place a tree there. He agreed. I insisted that it be before your birthday. He agreed. And it was decided by Mimi that it would be today.

We all arrived there and you'll see details through Mimi's and Marvi's pictures. The one below is the tree that I planted just behind the board, with Nuzhat joining in. The others were planted by Mimi & Marvi. Think one was done by Seema, but she was not there when Nuzhat and I arrived. May have left earlier.

Here's the 4 of us 

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Sadly Sen MW could not be there because this morning he got tested and was found to have Covid-19. We all really missed him. But a great deal of thanks, Sen MW for all your help and sending the right people to help us plant the tree. Get well soon.

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Yeh Kyā Hüā

When I was in the Merchant Navy one of the things that I did on Pakistani ships was to start a library in our Smoke Room. There were books in English and Urdu that I purchased or was given by friends who waned people at sea to read. There were a couple of ships where I had Bengali officers, so they added Bengali books. 

One day, 40 years ago, a friend sent me some books for the ship and one of the books was of short stories from an author I had never heard of. I opened it at a random page … and was absolutely thrilled. I read other short stories in it and each one was brilliant. 

Since my ship was in Karachi I asked a young cousin of mine, Zulqarnain Shahid, to find out who this guy was ... and was told that he was a personal friend. So off we went that week to meet him. 

The book was ‘Atasfishañ Mayñ Khilay Gulāb’ ... The author was 21 year old Asif Aslam Farrukhi. He was the son of Dr. Aslam Farrukhi, one of our greatest critics, a writer who also wrote children's books, and a fabulous story-teller who had a remarkable memory. 

There were several stories that I asked Asif about, including a tremendous small SF piece. But the one that fascinated me most was about him and his brother traveling to India with their father. It seemed so real and it brought back my own memories of a similar trip. 

“But I have never travelled to India. Nor has my brother. The story is fictitious and it was written about things that my father and other family members said”, said Asif. 

Those who have read the book will understand the surprise I felt. It has remained a favourite take of mine ... and the book has many other pieces I adore. I had asked to read this at T2F, but Asif said it's an old tale, let me read something new instead. I insisted … and it would be done soon online. But ohhhh …

For many years we remained in contact, specially when he had a little mahfil where many young poets were invited, since he knew of my love of poetry. People like Fahmida Riaz, Attiya Dawood, Azra Abbas, and Zeeshan Sahil were at these sessions. 

(Some of you may know that Asif wrote poetry and had a collection published. But he said it wasn’t something he was proud of ... so he continued his prose writings.) 

When T2F opened we had  Zeeshan Sahil as our first poet. Asif was thrilled at my calling ZS and said it was a great move to call him in an area where people thought Urdu was hardly ever spoken. (T2F was packed!) Later on Sabeen invited him to be a T2F advisor ... and his love of Urdu plus his moderating skills made him a favourite person to anyone who saw him at a session. 

A Medical Doctor who didn’t practice at all, he worked with UNICEF. Asif had also worked at Aga Khan Foundation. And he was now teaching at Habib University.

His love of all forms of literature was astounding ... and he read everything he could read. And he certainly directed many others to read something he found interesting. I loved that.

Asif was a genius at everything he did and his magazine (Dunyazad), his marvellous and friendly teaching at HU where students felt so comfortable with him, his sessions at T2F, his festival organization, and his channel at YouTube are ample proofs of what he could do. 

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Two days before his death a well-known poet (a bit of a crook, as well) phoned me. I was surprised. I have known him for years. But in the last two years he has refused to answer my calls. I wanted him to come for a session about him and his book at T2F. A few friends told me that he won’t come because he thinks he ought to be paid. 

He started of by saying to me: Your friend Asif is at HU and he has no business to be there. He is a Doctor and knows nothing about literature. He hardly writes well. Most of the things he says are things that he picks up from literature abroad and translates them into Urdu as if he has written it. He takes illegal money from people to invite them to the various festivals he is involved with and has a battle with his colleague who had found this out.

My feeling is that this poet applied for a job at HU and was rejected. Possibly Asif may have known of his crookedness and didn't want him linking with the students there. I have not named the poet because I don’t want his fans and supporters starting a war of words.

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Two days later Asif left us.

We have lost a great person. Urdu lovers feel terribly at his leaving them at such a young age. 61 is no time to die. Students at HU are completely shaken. Friends in Pakistan, India, and in many countries abroad have mourned his death in articles and posts. 

The best thing we must do is to publish all his writings into a series of books. Can Scherezade - a publishing house that Asif set up - do this if someone is now handling it after him. And can HU help with the expense?

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Asif really loved  Karachi

 and now Karachi seems empty without him.