BY ASMAT AZIZ HAJINI
The memories of the past are a torment to me/Wipe the slate of memory clean for me, says an Urdu poet. A year has passed since you departed for the eternal world, yet it remains as hard for me to accept it as it was then.
I seek refuge in distractions whenever your cherished memories haunt me, else the grief will turn me out of my mind.
Whenever I attend a literary function, I always look around for you as if you will stand up and start enthralling the audience like it was your wont to do.
People say that time heals, and that life goes on. But how do I fill the gaping hole left in my life by your untimely departure? You were my sun, my moon and my directions. I needed you to guide me on the road of life, yet you left so early daddy. Why? How can life be the same ever?
I have been a witness to your hard work and struggles all throughout in past more than two decades. You always preferred your family over yourself and everything. You were a very caring family man.
You ignored yourself so that your family gets all the worldly privileges. You proved to be a best father, best husband, best brother, best son, best friend, best teacher, best officer, and, best administrator.
I am proud to be your daughter but your absence haunts me day and night. How can I be free from your memories? Everyone I meet has the fondest memories of you and wants to share them.
Just yesterday, at a function to commemorate your first anniversary, luminaries like Professor Neerja Mattu, Dr. Ghulam Qadir Alaqaband, Professor Muhammad Zaman Azurdah, Sanaullah Niyaz, Ghulam Nabi Aatish, and Prof. Shad Ramzan all came together to chronicle your everlasting contribution, and I could not help but marvel how many lives you had touched.
My eyes brimmed with tears, and I could hardly repress my sigh wondering how much more you could have written and how many more lives you could have inspired. Wish you could come just once and I could hug you, but I know it is a dream too far…
I fondly remember your words:
ژہ چھیکھ میا نین تصورات ہنز مہارانی ،میا نی بجرک بہار»
Why did I never get the chance to serve you well into your old age? Why was I deprived of this privilege? Every waking moment your famous ghazal gazal wuchh lol kis safraes andar kya kya me sarun poam rings in my ears, and I can barely contain the deluge.
The organisations you nurtured with life blood – Halqa-e-Adab, Hajin, Sonawari, Wahab Cultural Society and Jammu and Kashmir Adbee Markaz Kamraz are now steered to newer heights by those whom you mentored to dizzying heights of excellence.
I pledge Daddy dearest to spread your word, and continue to nurture your works through every breath in my body.
Let everyone who reads this pay tribute to you by praying for the magfirat of my father and patience for me.
Asmat Aziz Hajini works as a Research Assistant at JKAACL
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are the personal opinions of the author.
The facts, analysis, assumptions and perspective appearing in the article do not reflect the views of GK.