New Delhi : Lovers of Urdu poetry are a bereaved lot. The loss of Nida Fazli, whose verses have echoed in the immortal voice of Jagjit Singh for decades now, comes as a big blow. Incidentally, he passed away on the birth anniversary of Jagjit Singh.
Indeed, for the larger world of Urdu literature, this is the second shock in recent times, as a few days ago Intizar Husain, the Basti born writer who understood the tragedy of partition the best, passed away in Lahore.
However, whether it was ‘Fazlisaab’ or ‘Husainsaab’, both had imbibed the ancient Indian tradition into their creativity and had the talent to make connections that transcended the barriers of time and distance. You just have to read the short stories based on the ‘Jataka’ tales that have been created by Husainsaab and remember that nearly 20 years ago Jagjit rendered these Kabiresque dohas from Fazlisaab in an album that was poetically titled ‘Insight’.
Main roya pardes mein, bheegaa maan kaa pyaar
dukh ne dukh se baat ki, bin chithhi bin taar
Chhotaa kar ke dekhiye jeevan kaa vistaar
aankhon bhar aakaash hai, baahon bhar sansaar
Leke tan ke naap ko, ghoomay basti gaanv
har chaadar ke gher se, baahar nikalay paanv
Sab ki poojaa ek si, alag alag hai reet
masjid jaaye maulavi, koyal gaaye geet
Pooja ghar mein murati Meera ke sang Shyam,
jiski jitni chaakari utne uske daam
Nadiyaa seenchay khet ko, tota kutaray aam
sooraj thekedaar saa, sab ko baantay kaam
Saaton din bhagawaan ke, kyaa mangal kyaa peer
jis din soye der tak, bhookhaa rahay fakir
Achhi sangat baithkar, sangi badalay roop
jaisay milkar aam se meethii ho gayi dhoop
Sapnaa jharnaa neend kaa, jaagii aankhen pyaas
paanaa, khonaa, khojanaa saanson kaa itihaas
Chaahay Geetaa baanchiye, yaa padhiye Quraan
mera tera pyaar hi har pustak kaa gyaan
Every verse is loaded with all the religious philosophy that you need to live a full life. At 90, Intizasaab was here for the Rekhta event in the capital, and his zest for life was infectious. Similarly, when Fazlisaab used to recite his verses at poetic gatherings, they may be loaded with poignant meanings, but he was full of life.
Of course, there is the cliché that they would continue to live in their works, but who can deny that the void left by these creative souls can be filled. The only consolation is that while mourning their loss we can still go back to their writings. But it is poor compensation.
