Holding a mirror

Even in a place where outside news mattered little, Shamim seemed to feel the pulse of Kashmir and express everyone’s unspoken thoughts. He made the villagers avid readers of Aina. Even those who could not read had it read out to them.

At his best, Shamim could skewer a greedy or hypocritical politician without being cruel or snide. He could expose bureaucratic corruption or ineptitude without becoming cynical. He could look into the heart of a matter, casting aside what was unworthy and preserving what was good. People devoured every word of his.

I never met Shamim. I never even saw him while he was alive. I came to know of his writing years after his death in 1980, poring through the files of my father. There were pieces on everything from a minor roadside dispute to a major political development and from a description of a marriage party to a profile of a famous politician.

Be it Savaal Naak Ka (question of the nose) or Khuli Chithi Maulana Abul Kalam Azad kay roh kay naam (An open letter addressed to the spirit of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad), his stories were full of strong political comments that would generate excitement among the readers. His famous column for which he used a pseudonym Chirag Begh was noted for its outspoken stance on every issue. The beauty of his writings was his ability to blend literature and journalism.

I would read for hours on end, sometimes aloud to myself, savouring every word. Years later, when I myself became a journalist, it was Shamim whom I looked up to as a source of inspiration. Even now, long after his death at 44 and the demise of his beloved Aina, Shamim’s commentaries are amazingly relevant to contemporary Kashmir. Perhaps, the names have changed but the political patterns remain the same.

Shamim’s work has been belatedly honoured with the publication of a collection of his selected writings, in a volume called Aina Numa. Noted journalists Kuldip Nayar and Ved Bhasin have paid handsome tributes to Shamim, whom they knew for his commitment to civil liberties and relentless fight against the censorship during Emergency era. Despite his avid following, Shamim remained largely unsung outside Kashmir and without benefactors inside the state.

It was unfortunate that Kashmir’s most penetrating political analyst ultimately fell prey to the temptations of politics, himself. An equally powerful orator, Shamim was persuaded to run for Parliament against the most formidable politician of the day and former Prime Minister of Kashmir Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad.

The writer won the election, but quickly lost the unerring journalistic instinct that had set him apart from and above the political fray. Like all great journalists who tried to make that leap, he lost his bearings in the unfamiliar political maelstrom, with its back-scratching customs and marriages of convenience.

After a brief flirtation with power, he finally returned to his craft, but he had little time left. Cancer claimed him at a young age. And Kashmir wasdeprived of a strong, clear voice just when it was about to plunge into darkness and confusing times. How I wish he were alive!