Fortuitous patterns

A revisitation to Tapestries (Dr Amjad Hussain: 2021) takes us on a chef d'ouvre, enveloping the drama of a life, from infancy through education up to becoming a world renowned surgeon, and on the way becoming part of a convivial family, in pursuit of multifarious devotions to exploration, history, arts and literature.

There is a bonding, in a unique symbiosis, of all that is best in different human cultures, the eastern or more specifically the Indo-Pak-Iranian-Pakhtoon and the occidental with respect and deep esteem for their various strands, which in the ultimate analysis come together into a grand amalgamation grounded in humanity and shared values of love, compassion, gentleness and pursuit of truth and virtue.

But it is not a nostalgic groveling in the nooks and corners of the past; rather a resuscitation from times and experiences of a bygone era, of an enrichment of the present, and with a chin held high up in the life-giving bracing winds of the remaining future, evincing a never ending passion for a fulfilled and enriched life, that in the home run, one can proudly look upon with deserving and well-earned satisfaction.

In the compendium one is struck by the rather rare, but ennobling and fulfilling bringing together, often found in rarity among both the persons of humanities as well as those taking to the sciences, of the enriching spectacle of the arts and sciences, of technique and beauty of philosophy and literature, complimenting and in certain ways making up for, perhaps, the deficiencies of either in allowing for a holistic and complete appreciation of human achievements and excellences in terms of contributions to various civilisations and cultures.

If ever there was a case to be made out for bringing to an end, or sharply reducing, the unfortunate tribalisation and shortsighted bigotry current among nations and countries; to remove it of various prejudices and phobias prevalent in the world, of a need to collaboratively banish the banes of dehumanising poverty, pelf, disease and ignorance. Examples such as those present so valuably and pristinely in a person, who takes, in a tolerant manner, to various perceptions and beliefs, to two different zietgeists, can be a beacon light for bringing a change for the better in a torn and divided world.

The story starts in some similarity to the pattern and temper of the river Indus emanating from Senge Khobe, traversing its whole length. It begins in its relatively simple and staid beginnings, then, as if turning to the tremulous and thunderous passage through the Hunza gorge, there were sudden changes of routes as in the Chilas bend. On the way other tributaries joined to make life more enriching and fuller, like discovering and marrying a life partner, and begetting a clutch of lovely children; there were twists and turns, ups and downs, the successes and disappointments and setbacks, emotional and interpersonal, but like the Sindhu, an entry was made in serene grandeur into the deltaic stage contemporaneous with advanced age.

Sommerset Maugham likens life to a panoply or in the words of the tome a tapestry made up of various unknowns and chance. One of the predicaments of life is its unpredictability, of forces governing one's fate and destiny beyond one's apparent comprehension and control. Life seems to be less an orderly logarithm or seven constants of quantum physics about the universe and more like a game of fortuity and abundant and pervasive world misery and pain. That is one reason that has put to question matters such as the purpose of life, free will, determinism, etc. Be that as it may, Maugham, having lived a rich and fulfilling life, says when he tries to cast a look back at his life he is hard pressed to assert that much of what he did or achieved was by virtue of design or preordainment. Rather, life in all its variety and unknowns, its moments of happinesses and relative sorrows, in the end consummates like the glorious pattern, made by an unknown hand, on a Persian carpet.

Will Durant in his The Falling Leaves makes an observation that aptly describes the story's travails and the fortuity of life: "Three thousand years ago a man thought that man may fly, and so built himself wings, and Icarus ... his son... trusting them and trying to fly, fell into the sea. Undaunted life carried on his dream. Three generations passed and Leonardo da Vinci… scratched across his drawings plans and calculations for a flying machine and left in his notes a little phrase, that once heard, rings like a bell in the memory: 'There shall be wings.' Leonardo failed and died, but life carried on the dream... generations passed and men said flying was against the will of God. And then men flew, and the age long challenge of the bird was answered. Life is that which can hold in a purpose for three thousand years and never yield. The individual fails, but life succeeds. The individual dies, but life, tireless and undiscouraged, goes on, wondering, longing, trying, mounting and longing."