Plus, Minus, Multiplication…..
Disheveled
hair, long beard, wrinkled face and frail body was his real posture whom
we dearly called Sirdard Chahcha. Sometime we used to sit around and request
him to recite some of his creations and he happily recited his poetry in
amazing way. Sometimes he passed his diary asking one of us to read loudly in
the same manner the way he recited. Sirdard Chacha was like poet, writer for us
although his poetry or whatever he composed were beyond our comprehension but
whatever he recited we enjoyed them immensely. We neither saw him attending any
Mushaira nor found his creations ever published in any magazines.
On
the contrary whenever we talked about his poetry to our elders they ridiculed
his poetry and called him stupid, mad who had ruined himself because of his
stupidity. We either found him sitting alone immersed in his diary
or wandering alone outside. Even though we did not find him act
differently notwithstanding people always called him stupid.
One
day I saw him writing in a new diary when I asked him about the old one he
immediately brought out from under the pillow and gave it to me. With his
permission I was cursorily turning over the pages, it was filled with the
writings suddenly I stopped at the caption on the end of the page of diary.
‘To
me ‘
‘Some
called me poet, writer, some called me stupid, mad. I neither do poetry nor
write stories. In fact all these are plus, minus, multiplication and division etc
which are part of account of my life, his/her life, your life, their life and
the life of the surrounding. And the thing which we say diary is nothing but an
account book of life. In fact this is an
account of what we are gaining, what we are loosing and in short in other words
‘ Kya Khoya kiya Paya’ End
Even after passing years, I still unable to understand what did he mean by plus,
subtraction, multiplication, division and so on but as far as my immature mind had
tried to understand. all these were just a production of messed up mind.
End
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