The poet of love: Remembering Amjad Islam Amjad sahib

On a hot and humid afternoon in Lahore, on Aug 16, 2021, I walked out of a house having photographed one of the living legends of our times, whose poems had been the soundtrack of my life.

I grew up in a house of Urdu poetry lovers, and of all the South Asian poets that I was introduced to, Amjad Islam Amjad sahib was the one who spoke to me the most. His rhythmical compositions held simplicity — simple words that would carry the weight of profound life lessons, making his poetry subtle, beautiful, and relatable.

In the test of life, all questions are compulsory

In the ’90s, the typical Urdu exam at school would have these words written at the top: ‘Answer any five out of the 10 questions below.’ This format was loved by all — high risk takers would prepare answers for only five, based on their best guess of what might be on the exam after looking at the past papers; those in the middle would prepare answers for six to eight questions, and the ones like me, having a low appetite for risk, would prepare for the entire coursework.

Who knew if one question that I had not prepared for would turn out to be the compulsory one on the exam, right? What I knew, for sure, was that all 10 questions would come from a finite, narrow curriculum. I liked that certainty. I would be fully prepared.

So when I first came across this verse from Amjad Sahib’s poem, ‘Ek kamra-e-imtihan mein’ [In an exam room], it presented an otherwise thought-provoking perspective to my early-teen self. It touched me deeply, and left a lasting impression.

zindagi ke parche ke
sab saval lazim hain, sab saval mushkil hain

[in the test of life, all questions are compulsory; all are difficult]

Later, as life exposed itself with its complexities and non-negotiable set of questions — from an infinite pool of uncertainty — answers to which I did not know, nor had time to prepare for, the meaning of the verse above unfolded itself in its truest form.

A born storyteller

The same charm that one finds in his writings, his real-life persona endorsed. He would naturally own any space with his command over language and immersive storytelling style, yet that power was not intimidating at all, as it was offset by Amjad sahib’s affectionate nature and humble demeanour, which had immediately made me feel at home.

Growing up, there was an elder in Amjad sahib’s family who had lost her eyesight, yet was adored by all the children, who flocked around her as she would narrate captivating stories to them. This had a marked influence on him and he found the act of storytelling both potent and fascinating. His teachers at school also recognised the storyteller in him early on. This observation and encouragement from early on in his childhood translated and reflected in his TV dramas as a playwright later on in life.

Author of Geet Hamaray [Our Songs], and an avid contributor to children’s literature, Amjad sahib was very pleased to learn about my podcast Bachpan Ki Kahaniyan [Stories from our Childhood] on Urdu stories for children, and reiterated the importance of producing quality content for children.

For our children

Both children were born in the US They are both teenagers now. One question that perpetually follows me around is: ‘How much to hold on to, how much to let go?’

We were chatting in his drawing room when the tea trolley arrived. Amjad sahib walked towards it, lifted a plate to serve, and asked “beta chai piyo gi?” [Would you like some tea, dear?]. Embarrassed, I immediately took the plate from him and made tea for the two of us. While pouring tea, I shared my deep appreciation for his poetry, and recited a few verses from one of my many favourite poems written by him. Smiling, he joined in and completed the next few verses.

I came across ‘Ali Zeeshan kay liye aik nazm’ [a poem for Ali Zeeshan] only a couple of years ago, or maybe at a time when I needed to hear it the most. It is one of Amjad sahib’s relatively new poems that ostensibly addresses his son, but echoes the sentiments of all those going through the test of parenting, and are torn between the past and present. The poem beautifully envelops in itself the emotions of four generations — emotions that are timeless and universal across generations:

meray baitay nay aankhain ik nai duniya main kholi hain

ussay wo khwaab kaisay doon jinhay tabeer karnay main meri yay umr guzri hay

[my son has opened eyes in a new world, how can I impart my dreams, the ones I have dedicated my whole life to?]

The exchange of verses with Amjad sahib continued for a few minutes, and in an instant, memories started flashing before my eyes — of all the times his poems, on life, love, death, and everything in between, came as a rescue, in happy moments and the sad, and served as a bridge, when emotions demanded understanding and words and I was at a loss for both.

During the shoot, his grandson, Musa Zeeshan also joined us. Amjab sahib seemed to be in love with Musa and asked him to recite a few Urdu verses for me. The little one had verses memorised by heart and immediately started reciting them. Amjad sahib, wearing a proud smile, embraced him, applauding him for a job well done, “shabash!” [well-done!] — and I became witness to a moment revealing its beauty, expressing the purity of the love a grandparent shares with their grandchild, in eternity.

Gone but never forgotten

On new year’s day, Amjad sahib and I exchanged messages that I would later learn would be our last.

He was happy to use two of my portraits for the cover pages of his latest publications: Khwab Aur Khadshay [Dreams and Fears], and Qasid Kay Atay Atay [Till Qasid Comes]. In the message, he, in his fatherly voice, blessed me with his duas [blessings], telling me that he had kept his new books for me as amanat [in his care].

I have listened to his voice note a couple of times since the news of his passing, thinking about how fragile life is.

It is ironic that in 2021, I shared his portrait that I took with the following words:

“This portrait was way more than playing with highlights and shadows. The eastern painting — mimicking a poet — juxtaposed with the time clock, evokes conflicting sentiments, both celebrating the precious existence of these literary figures of our times, and also realising that very few of their kind are left to cherish. The clock thus gives a sense of timelessness when it comes to the artist and his literary works, yet serves as a warning in relation to the time we are constantly losing while holding on to such gems.

The stark difference in the mood of the portrait and the emotions it evokes thus compliments the high contrast in the image.“

With this, I leave you with Amjad sahib’s beautiful words from Mohabbat ki ek nazm [A poem of love]

agar kabhi meri yaad aaye gurez karti hava ki lahron pe haath rakhna
main khusbuon mein tumhen milunga
mujhe gulabon ki pattiyon mein talash karna main os-qatron ke ainon mein tumhen milunga