It is one more Sunday morning and I am before the plaque of the man who was more of a great guru than the great writer , filmmaker , playwright and conscience - keeper . I find more pleasure and enlightenment standing before this plaque than standing outside any church , temple , mosque or gurdwara or any other so called holy places of worship - Ali Peter John
Nothing much has changed around the plaque but a lot has changed in the country and keeps changing every minute like it has never changed in the history of independent India ( comrades , when did India gain independence , in August 1947 or on May 3 2014 ? ) There are some people , like that chaiwaala with a heart , Bunny Savarkar who is a firm bhakt of Abbas Sahab who wonder what I gain by going to the plaque of Abbas Sahab and garlanding it , which was a ritual he was strictly against , but what can I do except remembering him and cherishing his thoughts , sayings and teachings ?
Flowers are the best way next to prayers to express one's feelings and I pity all the flowers of the world for giving up their beautiful lives for the good of millions of people .
But , my intention to place a garland around this plaque is more divine and sublime than any other intention . My garland of flowers is only to express my gratitude to a man who was more God - like ( the only other man I can describe as God - like is the man whose name itself is Dev Anand ) .
As I struggle to place the garland with the help of my young Nepali friend , Ram Bahadur , I can see people staring at me as if I was from some alian land or a mad man , and I wish I could tell them why I am so mad about a name called Khwaja Ahmad Abbas .
There is a huge poster of a film called "Bob Biswas" which has Abhishek Bachchan in the title role and I can almost hear Abbas Sahab asking me , " kya ye wahi ladka hai jiske baap ko maine pahela break diya tha ? Kya iska baap mujhe kabhi yaad karta hai ? Nahi karta hoga , kyonki ye tumhare zamaane ke bade bade logo ka reet hai ? "
As I prepare to leave after praying to my God , he stops me and tells me a story about how he was fascinated by the poetry of his friend and comrades , Sahir Ludhianvi .
He tells me about how Sahir's poetry , had fired the hearts and minds of millions and he said he was very happy to see how Sahir and his poetry was still very much alive even after so many years .
He said he had translated Sahir's collection of poems , "Parchhaiyaa" into English out of sheer respect for Sahir and his poetry " which will be remembered as long as man behaves like he has been behaving all these years and I am sure will behave as long as man lives and gives a bad name to man "
In our brief meeting , Abbas Sahab also remembered his other close friends and comrades like Kaifi Azmi , Balraj Sahni , Rajinder Singh Bedi , Krishan Chandar who he called "the greatest literary figure after Tagore " and Inder Raj Anand who he called " the richest comrade who was my closest friend and who was kind enough to give me a place to have my office and my library "
Those were great times and those were truly great men , and I was extremely fortunate to be in their company and get inspired by them , all because of the goodness of a greater man than he is known to be , my mamoojaan ( maternal uncle ) than he has been known to be .