It was sometime in November 1997. I was in New Delhi with a delegation of Pakistani journalists to attend a conference of the subcontinents mediapersons,organised by the South Asian Media Association (SAMA,the precursor to SAFMA). One afternoon,the then prime minister,I.K. Gujral,invited the participants for lunch. While he met delegates from all South Asian countries,it was with the Pakistani journalists that he communicated the most and in a language that is as dear to him as it is to us Urdu. He had to be politely reminded by joint secretary Pavan Kumar Varma (who has written a fine book on Ghalib in English) that journalists from other SAARC countries were not able to understand Urdu. He then expressed his apologies and switched to the language of the colonial power that once ruled over most of the subcontinent and continues to linguistically bind countries in the region.
When lunch was about to be served,senator Javed Jabbar (who led the Pakistani delegation) and I were invited to sit at the prime ministers table. I had read about Gujrals close friendship with Faiz Ahmed Faiz,so at the first gap in the conversation I requested the prime minister to tell us about Faiz,as he had known him closely for many years. He narrated an anecdote about the great poet: I was Indias ambassador to Russia,when Faiz was hospitalised in Moscow. The specialist attending Faiz had asked him to kick the bottle as his system could not take it anymore. He followed the advice for two or three days but couldnt resist the urge any further. He rang me up at my office,and asked me to arrange a bottle for that evening we were to spend together,as we did almost everyday. Khuda ke wastay,Faiz sahib aapko to doctor ne mere samnay sakhti se mana kiya hai (For Gods sake,I was there when the doctor strictly asked you to stop drinking), I protested. Arre bhai,mujhe peene se mana kiya hai lekin tumhe laane se to mana naheen kiya hai (My friend,he did tell me not to drink but he didnt stop you from bringing it), was his reply. Before Gujral could have revealed more about Faiz,the conversation drifted to another subject.
About Faiz,Gujral said,With Faiz I enjoyed a special relationship. I first met him when he was my teacher at Hailey College,Lahore. Then we became friends partly because both of us had leftist leanings. He was a highly endearing person in addition to being a poet par excellence. I remain among his greatest admirers. The PM said his brother,the artist Satish Gujral,has a Faiz couplet on the cover of his autobiography.
Last month I tried to contact Gujral through my friend Mani Tripathi and his wife Shashi,who were once the consul-general and the deputy consul-general respectively in Karachi. They had served as first secretaries when Gujral was Indian ambassador to the Soviet Union. Mani said his former boss was not keeping good health,but promised to get more out of him about Faiz.
Mani didnt tell me that in those days General Zia-ul-Haq had declared Faiz persona non grata and that the Pakistan embassy in the Soviet Union was avoiding Faiz like the plague. He,however,recalled that during Faizs stay in Moscow,well-known Hindi poet Harivanshrai Bachchan (Amitabhs father) had visited the city. Taking advantage of the situation,Gujral arranged an evening with the two great poets at the Indian embassy. The listeners,including some Pakistanis living in the city,gave them a standing ovation.
Later in the evening Gujral asked Bachchan,How come your poetry is replete with nasha (intoxication) and suroor (ecstasy) even though you are a teetotaller? My forefathers had taken so much alcohol that it is still very much in my veins,so I dont need to drink, replied the Hindi poet,evoking peals of laughter. The one who laughed most heartily was none other than Faiz,recalled Mani.
Once,Karachi-based literary critic Sibte Hasan was in Samnabad,then a Lahore suburb. A friend drove Faiz to the place where Sibte,a communist party cardholder and Faizs old jail buddy,was staying. They had a good time recalling their days in pre-Partition India and subsequent years when they were both colleagues in the left-oriented Progressive Papers Group. The following evening Faiz wanted to see Sibte again. So he took out his old car and went round and round the locality. Following him was the IB (Intelligence Bureau) van. Eventually Faiz gave up. He called the driver of the van and asked if he remembered the house he had visited the previous evening. The man laughed and said,You went past the place twice. Faiz offered a simple solution,For a change I will follow you.
That was Faiz for you not just a great poet,but also a man worth his weight in gold.
The writer is a Karachi-based journalist
