Orhan Pamuk's My name is Red has a chapter titled `I am Death'. The angel of death introduces himself so mysteriously and comments on a conversation going on between a painter and an onlooker called an `old man' in the novel. The old man throws a challenge for the painter and asks him to draw death (like one draws a sketch). The painter expresses his inability and says that he can't draw something he has not seen. The old man replies that the genius of an artist lies in depicting the imaginary. He incites him to make something no human being has physically seen. The Death is curiously listening to their conversation as both are discussing him only. Then the painter makes an attempt to draw Death on the canvass. He paints fear. A humungous heavenly being with wings extending from the east to the west. That is how an artist could think of a concept called Death. Had that artist seen Izhar Wani on the hospital bed, he would have painted death not as fear, but as pain. The idea of death does not sound as frightening as the idea of pain. And that is how one could conclude on seeing a man full of energy and verve fighting hard to get rid of a life-devouring pain.
Visiting Izhar, (a prominent journalist of the valley who lost to cancer this week) was like seeing death in human eyes. It felt like a hellish tide of pain flowing up his throat and oozing through each pore of his body. The ruthless disease had almost consumed the whole being leaving just flesh and bones behind. A smiling young man was reduced to a crying, curling being. He had become pain personified. The young man was battling for almost a year but had to give up at last. It was a scene that depicted helplessness of a human being at its worst. That is the point where the whole hope hangs not on life, but on death. A pain-eaten, pain-bitten human body seeing itself in the fangs of death was telling a story through his eyes. His well-wishers prayed for his recovery which seemed like praying for a miracle. Just two days after, Izhar fled to the world of no return. Who could have imagined Izhar calling it a day in his prime. That is what this sleep-snatching disease does to innocent souls. It mercilessly takes away humans after leaving them writhing with a pain which makes life far more painful than death. It was a tearful moment for each one who attended him, visited him, prayed for him and couldn't just stand the agony which ultimately snatched away this wonderful human being from us. May his soul rest in peace. Ameen.

Lastupdate on : Sat, 7 Apr 2012 21:30:00 Makkah time
Lastupdate on : Sat, 7 Apr 2012 18:30:00 GMT
Lastupdate on : Sun, 8 Apr 2012 00:00:00 IST