SAHIR SAHAAB , DEKHIYE AAPKE PARCHHAIYAO PAR KISI AUR KI PARCHHAIYAA CHAANE LAGI HAI

Aadarniya Sahir Sahaab ,

I was passing through Versova this morning and I was looking for your house you had bought for yourself and your boyhood friend , Dr R K Kapoor and I kept looking for that house where you were the happiest and even wrote some of your best poems , ghazals and nazams, and where you were destined to die on that sad evening when you left everything and left for a place you knew nothing about even though you knew everything from the beginning of life to the end of life - Ali Peter John

I had two rounds around the road where your house was and where like many of your best friends , I too had the privilege of spending some great times with you .

I couldn't find that house and my anxious heart panicked and felt like drowning itself into sea beyond that house which was known as "Sahir ka bangla" , even though your house didnt look like a bungalow even remotely.

Your house was more of a old and large hut which must have been originally built more than 150 years ago, and that was the reason why you continued living there and had your own floor to yourself while you let Dr Kapoor and his family occupy the ground floor and even use a part of it as his clinic where he treated eminent patients like Lata Mangeshkar, B R Chopra, Yash Chopra and Ramanand Sagar among many others , and you felt very happy for him.

My heart broke when I saw a wall of iron sheets surrounding your house which was now reduced to rubble and dust .

The iron sheets in white and blue colour was like a signal that a house was in the process of being demolished.

I went around the surrounding walls and a crowd of memories about you walked with me. I remembered the times when I am some other journalists had a delicious breakfast with you as we discussed poetry , the city and the country and how people were growing into pieces of money which could be exchanged or sold for more money.

I remembered the evenings when we sat sipping the best of Sctoch and worrying about the country and its leaders and the world and how when you talked about poverty and the exploitation of the mazdoors and the plight of women who kept fighting for their rights which rarely came true and when you discussed the condition of the prostitutes, you often had tears in your eyes , followed by your well known burst of anger which was so clearly seen in Guru Dutt's "Piyaasa" and of course in your collection of poems , "Parchhaiyaa" and "Talkhiyaan" .

The loss of your bungalow seemed to be like the loss of a glorious chapter in modern history.

From Versova , I asked my auto rickshaw driver to take me to the building you had built in the 60's when you were at the height of your poetic glory and called it" Parchhayiaa".

Your comrades felt it was a very wrong decision you had taken because they knew that you would never be able to understand the duniyadaari of life.

You however made sure that you had an entire floor to yourself where you could live peacefully with your mother and your sister .

How I wished you also had Amrita Pritam as your life partner in that large apartment, but you preferred to live alone with only your thoughts , words and feelings for your companions .

The only solace you had in this house was the royal view of the sea which you said spoke to you, especially at nights.

My heart was shattered when I saw the bungalow of your friend Balraj Sahni lying in ruins where they said his daughter lived all alone and was fighting a court case to gain complete possession of her father's huge property in Juhu.

I then looked at "Parchhaiyaa" and all that was new about it was the name Parchhayiaa inscribed in gold letter at the gate .

I had visited your apartment only on the day that you were lying on the floor as a dead man who had nothing to do with the world .

I had also been to your apartment when the writer and filmmaker B R Ishara and his wife , the actress Rehana Sultan invited me to see how your apartment had been reduced to something like a dustbin .

All your books were rotting , all your trophies and even your Padmashree were covered with dirt and dust and all your memories had flown out of the window of your favorite kitchen. That was the last time I was at your apartment.

And today , the security man refused to let me know anything about your apartment and even looked at me suspiciously.

They didnt let me take some pictures but I managed to take some important pictures. Your apartment is no apartment now.

I only saw some empty spaces where there were your walls from where you looked at the sea and I couldn't even ask for help from my friend B R Ishara because he too had left for the place where you are in now and must be sitting with you and smoking his 555 cigarettes and swigging whiskey with you and with no worries which the world had given me and him in plenty while you both were here on earth .

I was too small a man to think of anything I could do to save both your dream houses , but I will always bow my head in front of your dreams everytime I pass by them and hope that great men like you dont have to face the cruelty and ruthlessness of my world.

YEH DUNIYAA HAI . YAHAAN AADMI KI QADAR SIRF TAB TAK KI JAATI HAIN JAB TAK USSKI SHAAN AUR USSKA KAAM SE LOGO KO MATLAB HAIN.

NAHI TOH YEA DUNIYAA NE BADE BADE MASEEHO AUR SANTO KO BHI HAWE MEIN UDDA DIYAA HAI AUR AGAR YAAD BHI KIYAA HAI TOH MATLAB SE KIYAA HAI. YEH SACHHAI TUM NAHI JAANOGE SAHIR SAHAAB , TOH KAUN JAANEGA?