We still miss you Mr Cowasjee
His writing gives hope, strength, a mode of catharsis and, if nothing else, then at least a good laugh to many
I was in my sophomore year when Ardeshir Cowasjee died on November 24, 2012. I use the word ‘died’ and not ‘passed away’ because he didn’t believe in sugar-coating death. In one of his columns, written on the death of his wife, he spoke about how we should never downplay death.
It was a peculiar feeling – getting to know about his death. It was as if I had lost something I never had. Lost the chance of meeting him, ever. And to date, even after I have visited his house, met some of his family and friends, seen his books, read many of his columns, tried to understand his words and even written a college thesis about him, I still feel that void of not being able to get to know him in person.
Ardeshir Cowasjee was a household name for me, from a very young age. His Sunday columns were like the air we breathe – no one acknowledged it, but everyone knew it was there, ready to be read whenever one wanted.
From 1984 to 2011, almost three decades of his writing have given many people hope, strength, a mode of catharsis and, if nothing else, then at least a good laugh. Becoming a voice for the poor and the destitute, to surpassing the boundaries of publications, to becoming an idol for almost every aspiring journalist, Cowasjee’s journey is something to behold. And something that everyone should, at least once in their lives, read or hear about.
Today, two years since he left us all, the Pakistan that Cowasjee wanted is still as distant as it was when he was writing and advocating for a better nation and a better people. The land mafia, the builders, the greedy, the hate-filled, the bigots, the inept, the politicians, the hooligans all are still very much there.
But saying he couldn’t do anything would be a grotesque lie. He changed lives, he moulded views, he presented new ideas and introduced new initiatives. And in all this, he never let go of his originality or his flamboyant ways. Today, while there are many who still won’t read him, I am hoping to stick by with those who’d be willing to understand the charisma of Ardeshir Cowasjee.
Published in The Express Tribune, November 24th, 2014.
It was a peculiar feeling – getting to know about his death. It was as if I had lost something I never had. Lost the chance of meeting him, ever. And to date, even after I have visited his house, met some of his family and friends, seen his books, read many of his columns, tried to understand his words and even written a college thesis about him, I still feel that void of not being able to get to know him in person.
Ardeshir Cowasjee was a household name for me, from a very young age. His Sunday columns were like the air we breathe – no one acknowledged it, but everyone knew it was there, ready to be read whenever one wanted.
From 1984 to 2011, almost three decades of his writing have given many people hope, strength, a mode of catharsis and, if nothing else, then at least a good laugh. Becoming a voice for the poor and the destitute, to surpassing the boundaries of publications, to becoming an idol for almost every aspiring journalist, Cowasjee’s journey is something to behold. And something that everyone should, at least once in their lives, read or hear about.
Today, two years since he left us all, the Pakistan that Cowasjee wanted is still as distant as it was when he was writing and advocating for a better nation and a better people. The land mafia, the builders, the greedy, the hate-filled, the bigots, the inept, the politicians, the hooligans all are still very much there.
But saying he couldn’t do anything would be a grotesque lie. He changed lives, he moulded views, he presented new ideas and introduced new initiatives. And in all this, he never let go of his originality or his flamboyant ways. Today, while there are many who still won’t read him, I am hoping to stick by with those who’d be willing to understand the charisma of Ardeshir Cowasjee.
Published in The Express Tribune, November 24th, 2014.