LOVE COSTS LIFE
WAKAS NAZIR KHAN
Till last year I would be mesmerized by the soothing and pacific music of the flute at evening which would end around 11pm- often following the notes from old romantic and sad songs of Kishore Kumar and Mohammad Rafi- the legendry playback singers of Bollywood. Sometimes, it used to tranquil me so much that I would drowse off before I knew it stopped. The sound would come from the adjacent house of my neighbor. The house belongs to Khwaja Habibullah Khan. He is revered in our locality and is known as Haej Saib. Haej Saib has two sons- Mohammad Yaqoob and Farooq Ahmad. Farooq is my father‟s childhood chum. I call him Gashu. I still remember the time-when I was in 7th. It was the time when I was given my personal room which was on 3rd storey of my house and I first listened to the melodious music of flute from the window of my room-so peaceful and clear it used to be from the backside of my house as it has no houses from there but a big graveyard. It didn‟t bother my mind to know why he is grooved to play flute every night with so much passion and perseverance. I often would answer my mind thinking this might be his only hobby. But when this talented man would come in daylight, it would shock and sad be everyday. He was insane. I just knew one thing that time that he wasn‟t like such from his childhood rest was still a mystery for me. He was nicknamed by „Farooq Pagal’. The locals would tease and pester him often and God knows what fun they used to take from that. I would feel so bad every time witnessing their
2
inhuman behavior. I would always feel pity for him- not really for others like him; May be he was one who had built a relation with me through those magical and musical strands.
Farooq was very sure about his cleanliness and would wear good clothes as any other normal man. He was a good man. Gashu was so loving for children and very decent for old men-as he never would make his presence disturbing for them. Farooq was offering five times Salah. He was a carpenter. My father would take him very often for help at some of his carpentry contracts. The only thing that would reflect his state of madness was his non-stop and spot spitting; and his muttering to himself –sometimes to walls and non-human articles. This would make everybody aware that he is moonstruck.
Till 10th class-when I was 16 and had developed my sense of observation, the state of my mind for Gashu was same. One day I dared to ask my father about his life. My concern was mainly confined to that part of his life which turned him imbecile. It was December- the core of winter and we would take our Dinner at 8pm or around –after the Isha Salah. My father would often talk about his childhood and youth during the dinner. I thought this could be the right time to start knowing about Gashu. I knew that my father would come to that part as well. Dad was quite talkative about his adventurous youth.
“How was your friendship with Gashu, Dad?”I asked
3
“Best Friends, we were like brothers, son. People would envy us.” Dad looked at me strangely and replied.
“He was so smart and handsome that we used to call him Rajesh-nicknaming him as Rajesh Khanna, as he would dress and style just like him” Dad said with so much enthusiasm, as if going back to Gashu‟s and his youth.
“We would go to Firdous cinema every night for last show of Bollywood movies; and we would even dress like the actors. Sometimes, on return we used to play some mischief and enter as uninvited guests with Baraat to have Groom‟s feast; as if we were belonging to Groom from Bride‟s sight” he said and laughed out loud recalling his teenage.
After recollecting those days of his youth in mirth, he wept and tears trickled down from his eyes and said “kam kam Shahzad tche Zaye gachan- countless princes get ruined in its hands-LOVE”.
After that Dad took a sigh and said, “Its fate my son. True love cost him his life”
“How did it happen Dad? Did Love made him insane?” I asked him so desperately.
My mother tried to ignore my questions for my Dad‟s sake. As Father was to talk about the time he never wished to get back to; but, he wanted me to know how it happened. It seemed to me as if he was trying to convey to those inhuman locals that
4
his friend wasn‟t like such and in his sight he is still the most handsome Guy. I felt that for my eagerness, I licked his old wounds up. But he continued.
“Zohra –a paragon of beauty, was a girl who lived very near to our Locality. She would often come to Islam yarbal (Jehlum) to wash her clothes and dishes. We were habitual of swimming. We would often go there and watch Zohra. She was daughter of Ghulam Mohiuddin- who was notorious for weighting less on his spice shop. After some weeks of minor encounters of Farooq with Zohra, He would often tell me to go for bath in Jehlum-sometimes twice a day-quite against our routine; I never noticed that Farooq and Zohra had fallen in love. One day I saw them together-hand in hand at Shahi Majid Park and this was First time when I came to know about their affair. I was happy for my peer. He was happy. He would flute for Zohra on the banks of Jehlum. This used to be the token of love and call from his beloved for her- as she used to live near the river.
It continued for three years. By these years, we both started to work. We were learning Carpentry from an elderly person Shafi Shora. Your Gashu had confined himself to Zohra‟s love. She was his priority. He was in deep love with her and she was also helpless in the hands of young man‟s love. Everything was going good. But, one day Zohra was insisted by Farooq to watch a movie together-which at that time was like committing adultery, but being committed in love she accepted the proposal. They watched movie together-perhaps „Jeene Ki Rah’. When they left the cinema one of Zohra‟s relatives, who was a constable in Kashmir Police stationed outside cinema
5
for curbing black-ticketing caught them red handed. Though, he didn‟t say anything to Farooq, but complained about Zohra to her father. Without giving a second thought, her father decided to marry her with her Cousin-a Carpet Weaver, who those days were revered in terms of wealth. Zohra couldn‟t move outside home. She was often taunted by her mother. Farooq was losing hope. He would just cry and play flute near the same place where he first saw Zohra. There was no way of communication.
It was Eid-if I remember when we three met at Khankah(shrine) of Hazrat Mir Syed Ali Hamdani(R). Farooq knew it that Zohra will come to Khankah for offering Eid Prayers. It was her routine on eves of Eid. They were to meet after 2 or 3months. I still remember the tears of my friend when he saw her in white kurta and shalwar wearing two golden bangles in both arms offering prayers. He said to me. “Nazir, I‟ll either die or loss my mind if she‟ll leave me”. Zohra saw him and came near doing a ruse to her mother. Tears were in her big eyes. Farooq made her to stop crying. Zohra said to him, “I am going to get married to my cousin. Father has tied me in nuptial knot. I can‟t do anything but to pray. I am helpless in hands of my destiny. I love you and always will do. ” I remember the time son when she left. It broke my friend down. He cried bitterly. It seemed that the world and the charm in it ended for him. We both didn‟t notice, but her mother was witnessing it all secretly. Her aunt was accompanying her mother which we later came to know. Farooq was deciding to take some step as he couldn‟t live without her. He couldn‟t see his life ending. He thought of telling his father about all this so that he could talk to her parents for their
6
daughter‟s hand for his son. Just after the Eid-6th Shawal it was when my chum started vomiting blood. He had a high fever and his palpitation was going beyond the normal. We were all frightened- his family, relatives, me and my family as well. We took him to state hospital, but doctors couldn‟t recognize the disease. The condition was getting worst. His head was severely aching. We thought of taking him to Moulana. We had a firm belief on Molulana Ghulam Nabi. His holy water would cure un-curable patients. His parents and I went to him. When we came near Moulana, he looked in his eyes and said to us, “he has been tied up in black Magic. This black magic is turning his heart and mind restless. It will make his body to bleed and he will be sleepless always. You need to know who has done it. Unless and until the things used in this magic will be taken out, he won‟t be completely alright. And if this black magic will pass its time, he won‟t get well fully.” I thought of every person who could benefit himself by making my friend or his family to suffer. I thought of Zohra‟s mother and her aunt but I didn‟t reveal it in front of Moulana. Moulana gave us an amulet and also some water for Farooq and sprinkled some water there on Farooq‟s face. After leaving from there, I revealed everything of Farooq to Haej Saib. They went to Zohra‟s home and asked them about the black Magic. They didn‟t affirm it. Just after three days, Farooq stopped to vomit. His body was in better condition but he started talking like an imbecile. Everybody at their and our home was tense and scared about him. Zohra‟s cousin Shabeena after a week came to Farooq‟s home where I was present and said, “It is Zohra‟s mother and my mother who did the black Magic to Farooq, so that she could be married without any trouble. They went
7
to a sorcerer Gul Peer and asked him to do the black magic. They have done it on sheep‟s heart stabbed by a dagger and a fish pinned in its head. You must do something to rescue Farooq.” After she left, we went to the sorcerer who was belonging to the adjacent area of our locality. Haej Saib knew him and sorcerer would respect him more than any one. He later admitted that he would never have done such a thing if he knew that Farooq was Haej‟s son. He immediately freed Farooq from the knots of Black magic. Farooq was getting well, but he was sad and mute. He would play flute to soothe himself and hope that Zohra would come back to him one day which was impossible. After few months, Zohra got married to Aslam-her cousin. Farooq witnessed the scene. He didn‟t cry that day but took his flute and played near the bank of river for whole night. I was there with him. I was scared as I saw him losing his mind. He would talk very less to me and to himself, to river, to flute, to sky and things around him more. Since that day it has been like such my son.”
It was 11 pm when my father ended the replies of my questions. The agony and pain in his heart is still the same. Gashu doesn‟t play flute now, as last year he was abused by other neighbors for they didn‟t want him to disturb their sleep and their children‟s studies. Father was right- Love cost him his life.
WAKAS NAZIR KHAN
Till last year I would be mesmerized by the soothing and pacific music of the flute at evening which would end around 11pm- often following the notes from old romantic and sad songs of Kishore Kumar and Mohammad Rafi- the legendry playback singers of Bollywood. Sometimes, it used to tranquil me so much that I would drowse off before I knew it stopped. The sound would come from the adjacent house of my neighbor. The house belongs to Khwaja Habibullah Khan. He is revered in our locality and is known as Haej Saib. Haej Saib has two sons- Mohammad Yaqoob and Farooq Ahmad. Farooq is my father‟s childhood chum. I call him Gashu. I still remember the time-when I was in 7th. It was the time when I was given my personal room which was on 3rd storey of my house and I first listened to the melodious music of flute from the window of my room-so peaceful and clear it used to be from the backside of my house as it has no houses from there but a big graveyard. It didn‟t bother my mind to know why he is grooved to play flute every night with so much passion and perseverance. I often would answer my mind thinking this might be his only hobby. But when this talented man would come in daylight, it would shock and sad be everyday. He was insane. I just knew one thing that time that he wasn‟t like such from his childhood rest was still a mystery for me. He was nicknamed by „Farooq Pagal’. The locals would tease and pester him often and God knows what fun they used to take from that. I would feel so bad every time witnessing their
2
inhuman behavior. I would always feel pity for him- not really for others like him; May be he was one who had built a relation with me through those magical and musical strands.
Farooq was very sure about his cleanliness and would wear good clothes as any other normal man. He was a good man. Gashu was so loving for children and very decent for old men-as he never would make his presence disturbing for them. Farooq was offering five times Salah. He was a carpenter. My father would take him very often for help at some of his carpentry contracts. The only thing that would reflect his state of madness was his non-stop and spot spitting; and his muttering to himself –sometimes to walls and non-human articles. This would make everybody aware that he is moonstruck.
Till 10th class-when I was 16 and had developed my sense of observation, the state of my mind for Gashu was same. One day I dared to ask my father about his life. My concern was mainly confined to that part of his life which turned him imbecile. It was December- the core of winter and we would take our Dinner at 8pm or around –after the Isha Salah. My father would often talk about his childhood and youth during the dinner. I thought this could be the right time to start knowing about Gashu. I knew that my father would come to that part as well. Dad was quite talkative about his adventurous youth.
“How was your friendship with Gashu, Dad?”I asked
3
“Best Friends, we were like brothers, son. People would envy us.” Dad looked at me strangely and replied.
“He was so smart and handsome that we used to call him Rajesh-nicknaming him as Rajesh Khanna, as he would dress and style just like him” Dad said with so much enthusiasm, as if going back to Gashu‟s and his youth.
“We would go to Firdous cinema every night for last show of Bollywood movies; and we would even dress like the actors. Sometimes, on return we used to play some mischief and enter as uninvited guests with Baraat to have Groom‟s feast; as if we were belonging to Groom from Bride‟s sight” he said and laughed out loud recalling his teenage.
After recollecting those days of his youth in mirth, he wept and tears trickled down from his eyes and said “kam kam Shahzad tche Zaye gachan- countless princes get ruined in its hands-LOVE”.
After that Dad took a sigh and said, “Its fate my son. True love cost him his life”
“How did it happen Dad? Did Love made him insane?” I asked him so desperately.
My mother tried to ignore my questions for my Dad‟s sake. As Father was to talk about the time he never wished to get back to; but, he wanted me to know how it happened. It seemed to me as if he was trying to convey to those inhuman locals that
4
his friend wasn‟t like such and in his sight he is still the most handsome Guy. I felt that for my eagerness, I licked his old wounds up. But he continued.
“Zohra –a paragon of beauty, was a girl who lived very near to our Locality. She would often come to Islam yarbal (Jehlum) to wash her clothes and dishes. We were habitual of swimming. We would often go there and watch Zohra. She was daughter of Ghulam Mohiuddin- who was notorious for weighting less on his spice shop. After some weeks of minor encounters of Farooq with Zohra, He would often tell me to go for bath in Jehlum-sometimes twice a day-quite against our routine; I never noticed that Farooq and Zohra had fallen in love. One day I saw them together-hand in hand at Shahi Majid Park and this was First time when I came to know about their affair. I was happy for my peer. He was happy. He would flute for Zohra on the banks of Jehlum. This used to be the token of love and call from his beloved for her- as she used to live near the river.
It continued for three years. By these years, we both started to work. We were learning Carpentry from an elderly person Shafi Shora. Your Gashu had confined himself to Zohra‟s love. She was his priority. He was in deep love with her and she was also helpless in the hands of young man‟s love. Everything was going good. But, one day Zohra was insisted by Farooq to watch a movie together-which at that time was like committing adultery, but being committed in love she accepted the proposal. They watched movie together-perhaps „Jeene Ki Rah’. When they left the cinema one of Zohra‟s relatives, who was a constable in Kashmir Police stationed outside cinema
5
for curbing black-ticketing caught them red handed. Though, he didn‟t say anything to Farooq, but complained about Zohra to her father. Without giving a second thought, her father decided to marry her with her Cousin-a Carpet Weaver, who those days were revered in terms of wealth. Zohra couldn‟t move outside home. She was often taunted by her mother. Farooq was losing hope. He would just cry and play flute near the same place where he first saw Zohra. There was no way of communication.
It was Eid-if I remember when we three met at Khankah(shrine) of Hazrat Mir Syed Ali Hamdani(R). Farooq knew it that Zohra will come to Khankah for offering Eid Prayers. It was her routine on eves of Eid. They were to meet after 2 or 3months. I still remember the tears of my friend when he saw her in white kurta and shalwar wearing two golden bangles in both arms offering prayers. He said to me. “Nazir, I‟ll either die or loss my mind if she‟ll leave me”. Zohra saw him and came near doing a ruse to her mother. Tears were in her big eyes. Farooq made her to stop crying. Zohra said to him, “I am going to get married to my cousin. Father has tied me in nuptial knot. I can‟t do anything but to pray. I am helpless in hands of my destiny. I love you and always will do. ” I remember the time son when she left. It broke my friend down. He cried bitterly. It seemed that the world and the charm in it ended for him. We both didn‟t notice, but her mother was witnessing it all secretly. Her aunt was accompanying her mother which we later came to know. Farooq was deciding to take some step as he couldn‟t live without her. He couldn‟t see his life ending. He thought of telling his father about all this so that he could talk to her parents for their
6
daughter‟s hand for his son. Just after the Eid-6th Shawal it was when my chum started vomiting blood. He had a high fever and his palpitation was going beyond the normal. We were all frightened- his family, relatives, me and my family as well. We took him to state hospital, but doctors couldn‟t recognize the disease. The condition was getting worst. His head was severely aching. We thought of taking him to Moulana. We had a firm belief on Molulana Ghulam Nabi. His holy water would cure un-curable patients. His parents and I went to him. When we came near Moulana, he looked in his eyes and said to us, “he has been tied up in black Magic. This black magic is turning his heart and mind restless. It will make his body to bleed and he will be sleepless always. You need to know who has done it. Unless and until the things used in this magic will be taken out, he won‟t be completely alright. And if this black magic will pass its time, he won‟t get well fully.” I thought of every person who could benefit himself by making my friend or his family to suffer. I thought of Zohra‟s mother and her aunt but I didn‟t reveal it in front of Moulana. Moulana gave us an amulet and also some water for Farooq and sprinkled some water there on Farooq‟s face. After leaving from there, I revealed everything of Farooq to Haej Saib. They went to Zohra‟s home and asked them about the black Magic. They didn‟t affirm it. Just after three days, Farooq stopped to vomit. His body was in better condition but he started talking like an imbecile. Everybody at their and our home was tense and scared about him. Zohra‟s cousin Shabeena after a week came to Farooq‟s home where I was present and said, “It is Zohra‟s mother and my mother who did the black Magic to Farooq, so that she could be married without any trouble. They went
7
to a sorcerer Gul Peer and asked him to do the black magic. They have done it on sheep‟s heart stabbed by a dagger and a fish pinned in its head. You must do something to rescue Farooq.” After she left, we went to the sorcerer who was belonging to the adjacent area of our locality. Haej Saib knew him and sorcerer would respect him more than any one. He later admitted that he would never have done such a thing if he knew that Farooq was Haej‟s son. He immediately freed Farooq from the knots of Black magic. Farooq was getting well, but he was sad and mute. He would play flute to soothe himself and hope that Zohra would come back to him one day which was impossible. After few months, Zohra got married to Aslam-her cousin. Farooq witnessed the scene. He didn‟t cry that day but took his flute and played near the bank of river for whole night. I was there with him. I was scared as I saw him losing his mind. He would talk very less to me and to himself, to river, to flute, to sky and things around him more. Since that day it has been like such my son.”
It was 11 pm when my father ended the replies of my questions. The agony and pain in his heart is still the same. Gashu doesn‟t play flute now, as last year he was abused by other neighbors for they didn‟t want him to disturb their sleep and their children‟s studies. Father was right- Love cost him his life.
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