Centennial tribute: Faiz according to his friend
Mushtaq Yusufi with Iftikhar Arif shares fond memories of Faiz with the audience.
ISLAMABAD:
Wouldn’t it be nice to hear about Faiz from one of his closest contemporaries who also happens to be one of the country’s most amusing wits? That is exactly what the National Language Authority had in store for Faiz enthusiasts at the legendary poet’s centennial “after-party” (if you may) titled ‘Faiz Ahmed Faiz ki yaad mein’ on Monday afternoon.
Mushtaq Ahmad Yusufi needs no introduction. It is good to know that the octogenarian’s advanced years have not caught up with his keen sense of humour, evidenced by the fact that he did not make a single joke which failed to elicit roars of laughter from the modestly-sized audience.
Following a welcome note by Iftikhar Arif, Yusufi immediately launched into a droll poetic assault on everything from Arif and Valentine’s Day to Gen Musharraf and Hosni Mobarik. However, the minute he started talking about Faiz, his voice assumed an understandably nostalgic, slightly somber tone; nothing unexpected, of-course.
“Faiz’s poetry is replete with human sadness,” he said, adding that it was possible for one to disagree with his politics but it was nearly impossible to disagree with his poetry, every word of which reaches the deepest recesses of the human condition. He opined that no-one had received the kind of acclaim that Faiz had, albeit posthumously, and no-one in the future was likely to.
He said the revolutionary poet lived the way he wanted to and even died the way he wished to. He said, “[Faiz] used to talk about his own impending death as if he were talking about a bitter enemy’s demise - happily.”
Recollecting some of Faiz’s personal habits and the times they had spent together in London, he shared a fair bit of trivia including the poet’s favourite breakfast menu and fondness for wearing blue suits, especially in the company of women. He recalled an incident in which the poet cancelled an early-morning walk to Hyde Park to be in the company of a “pleasantly dressed” woman who had just shown up at his door. He would make his own bed and wash his own clothes, often showing disdain for any help offered to him.
He said Faiz despised gossip and would not lend ears to it, let alone talk about someone himself. To illustrate the man’s humbleness and agreeable nature, he recalled an incident in which a “certain” ill-versed man, who was “under the influence”, suggested that the poem ‘tanhai’ be changed as it was too “lonesome”. Faiz responded that he would incorporate his suggestions in the poem’s subsequent edition.
After nearly an hour of holding the audience glued to their seats, Yusufi flipped over the remaining pages of his talk and concluded the gathering with the munificent homage, “Faiz was not the voice of his era, his era was the voice of Faiz. I am proud to have witnessed him.”
Published in The Express Tribune, February 15th, 2011.
Wouldn’t it be nice to hear about Faiz from one of his closest contemporaries who also happens to be one of the country’s most amusing wits? That is exactly what the National Language Authority had in store for Faiz enthusiasts at the legendary poet’s centennial “after-party” (if you may) titled ‘Faiz Ahmed Faiz ki yaad mein’ on Monday afternoon.
Mushtaq Ahmad Yusufi needs no introduction. It is good to know that the octogenarian’s advanced years have not caught up with his keen sense of humour, evidenced by the fact that he did not make a single joke which failed to elicit roars of laughter from the modestly-sized audience.
Following a welcome note by Iftikhar Arif, Yusufi immediately launched into a droll poetic assault on everything from Arif and Valentine’s Day to Gen Musharraf and Hosni Mobarik. However, the minute he started talking about Faiz, his voice assumed an understandably nostalgic, slightly somber tone; nothing unexpected, of-course.
“Faiz’s poetry is replete with human sadness,” he said, adding that it was possible for one to disagree with his politics but it was nearly impossible to disagree with his poetry, every word of which reaches the deepest recesses of the human condition. He opined that no-one had received the kind of acclaim that Faiz had, albeit posthumously, and no-one in the future was likely to.
He said the revolutionary poet lived the way he wanted to and even died the way he wished to. He said, “[Faiz] used to talk about his own impending death as if he were talking about a bitter enemy’s demise - happily.”
Recollecting some of Faiz’s personal habits and the times they had spent together in London, he shared a fair bit of trivia including the poet’s favourite breakfast menu and fondness for wearing blue suits, especially in the company of women. He recalled an incident in which the poet cancelled an early-morning walk to Hyde Park to be in the company of a “pleasantly dressed” woman who had just shown up at his door. He would make his own bed and wash his own clothes, often showing disdain for any help offered to him.
He said Faiz despised gossip and would not lend ears to it, let alone talk about someone himself. To illustrate the man’s humbleness and agreeable nature, he recalled an incident in which a “certain” ill-versed man, who was “under the influence”, suggested that the poem ‘tanhai’ be changed as it was too “lonesome”. Faiz responded that he would incorporate his suggestions in the poem’s subsequent edition.
After nearly an hour of holding the audience glued to their seats, Yusufi flipped over the remaining pages of his talk and concluded the gathering with the munificent homage, “Faiz was not the voice of his era, his era was the voice of Faiz. I am proud to have witnessed him.”
Published in The Express Tribune, February 15th, 2011.