WHEN THE OLD BARD REFUSED TO STEP OUT OF JAMMU AIRPORT
On 28 January 2014, as Secretary, J&K Academy of Art, Culture & Languages, I had the honour of hosting the legendry Urdu poet, Pandit Anand Mohan Zutshi Gulzar Dehlvi, who had arrived in Jammu as our honoured guest to preside over an All-India Urdu Mushaira in the State’s winter capital. Born on 13 July 1926, the descendant of Delhi’s ancient alleys, where the Gali Kashmirian cradled him, his Kashmiri-origin parents, Tribhuvan Nath Zutshi Zaar — Urdu and Persian teacher and a disciple of Mirza Dagh Dehlvi — and Brij Rani Zutshi Bezaar, both poets, bequeathed him not just a lineage but a legacy. The last luminous star in the galaxy of classical Urdu — the language that carried with it a rich history of cultural exchange, artistic expression, and intellectual discourse — he grew up listening and reciting Urdu and Persian verses at home. Urdu flowed through his veins and, throughout his life, he sang of love, of loss, of the Ganga-Jamani spirit — the mingling of faiths, the fragrance of brotherhood. His verses were the rhymes of glory of Urdu and amity.
The Academy held annual All-India Urdu Mushaira as a long-standing tradition started during the rule of Prime Minister Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad (1953–63). Leading Urdu poets of India would participate in the event. In the evening, the Prime Minister would host sumptuous dinner in honour of the visiting poets and interact with them. He would also arrange for their site-seeing visits to famous hill stations of Pahalgam and Gulmarg. It was such a gala event that the poets would look for an opportunity to take part in the mushaira. As a youth, during the 1970s, I have, many a time, attended this annual event at the Tourist Reception Centre in Srinagar which was at a stone’s throw from my Sonawar residence. Later, as a young poet, during the mid-1980s, I participated in a few Academy-held All-India Urdu Mushairas at Jammu’s Abhinav Theatre.
Of late, the quality of this great annual event had taken a nosedive. The participation of established poets in the mushaira had decreased over the years. There was no Jigar, Josh or Firaq around, but the prominent poets of the time, too were reluctant to participate, mainly, due to paltry remuneration offered by the Academy. When I took over the responsibilities of the institution in June 2012, a poet, irrespective of his standing, was paid Rs. 2,500, boarding and lodging plus travel by train or road. The mushaira in 2013 was held as per the existing fee structure, and, obviously, it did not attract the best of the poets. A substantial hike in honorarium was inevitable to restore some respectability to the annual event. I sent a proposal to the President of the Academy (Chief Minister) proposing a 400% raise (from Rs. 2,500 to Rs. 10,000), board and lodge facility plus two-way air travel. That was a huge jump likely to be disallowed by the Academy’s nitpicking Financial Advisor (Principal Secretary to Government, Finance Department). However, I did not seek any special grant for the hike and offered to meet the expenses from the Academy’s kitty. The President was glad to approve the proposal. So, the mushaira in 2014 was held with an enhanced fee-offer.
On 27 January, Gulzar Dehlvi was scheduled to arrive by air from Delhi in the afternoon. I had deputed, as liaison officer, my young colleague, Dr. Shahnawaz, with office Ambassador car to receive him at the Jammu Airport with instructions to extend due protocol to the aged bard while receiving and escorting him to hotel accommodation. After day’s work at office, I had retired to my official residence at Chhani Himmat to the southeast of Jammu city, when I received a frantic call from my Chief Editor (Urdu) and in-charge of the mushaira, Mohammad Ashraf Talk. He sounded panicky, “Jinab bada masla hogaya. Gulzar Dehlvi Sahab rooth geye hain aur airport se bahar nahi aa rahey” (Sir, there is a major problem. Gulzar Dehlvi Sir is sulking and refuses to step out of the airport). “But why”? I asked in bewilderment. Ashraf informed me that the great old man had a grievance about the absence of a formal welcome and demands my presence at the airport. He was adamant that unless the Secretary comes to the airport and extends his hand, he would not move an inch, invoking the old times when Prime Minister Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad would personally receive him on such occasions. In the meanwhile, Shahnawaz also called from the airport and informed about the unfolding drama there. He pleaded with Dehlvi that the Secretary was held up in an important meeting and could not make it to the airport. “Sir, I have been specially deputed by him to receive you with honour and dignity you deserve”, Shahnawaz beseeched but no amount of his pleading and persuasion made the poet to change his mind. The arrival lounge buzzed with curiosity — incoming passengers pausing mid-stride — over the sight of a wheelchaired 88-year-old man in spotless-white achkan — a red rose pinned to it in Nehruvian style — and chooridar pyjama, donning a qaraqul cap — a relic of bygone elegance, a character from a Muslim social movie of vintage Hindi cinema — clung to his resolve. It took a lot of effort and beseeching on the part of Shahnawaz to finally convince an unrelenting poet to come out of the airport, sit in the car and head for the Swastik Hotel, Suite №206 — but only after holding out a firm assurance that the Secretary of the Academy would formally receive him at the hotel.
I had planned to call on the great Gulzar Dehlvi, and other guest poets, in the evening. But as the unpleasant development unfolded, I immediately summoned my driver and rushed to the hotel where I found the bard struggling hard to overcome his emotions. When I introduced myself and welcomed him as our honoured guest, he was unmoved. I offered my apologies for any lapse in protocol and requested him to overlook our fault. As if my imploring pricked the balloon of his emotions, he burst out, “Do you have any idea what protocol I deserve? I have received in great measure love and respect from Prime Ministers Jawaharlal Nehru and Indira Gandhi, and Abul Kalam Azad. In the past, whenever I attended this mushaira in Jammu & Kashmir, Prime Minister Bakshi would make it a point to personally come and accord me welcome. And here I am, and you think it least important to come and formally receive me at the airport.” I knew he was offended and, given the stature he enjoyed, he must have felt bad about the non-chalance of a lesser mortal like me. The man had rubbed shoulders with political giants like Jawaharlal Nehru, Abul Kalam Azad, Tej Bahadur Sapru, Rajindra Prasad, Humayun Kabir, Zakir Hussain, and shared stage with the stalwarts of Urdu poetry like Hasrat Mohani, Jigar Moradabadi, Firaq Gorakhpur, Josh Malihabadi and Niyaz Fatehpuri. In hindsight, I should have raced to the airport, quelling the tempest before it brewed. His close association with Nehru et al apart, here was the oldest Urdu poet in the subcontinent and the last remanent of the glory of the language who deserved protocol he was expecting. It was not in my wildest imagination that my absence at the airport would create such a big issue. I tried every trick to pacify him and nurse his bruised feelings. “My apologies, Sir. This will not happen again”, I pleaded, and my colleagues, Ashraf and Shahnawaz, joining me in our admission of guilt, and seeking pardon. Slowly, the clouds of anger began to disperse. The atmosphere in the room became light and there he was — a jovial old wise man sharing laughter and delightful anecdotes from his remarkable life and times, interspersed with heart-touching verses. His eloquence was like the rapids of a mountain stream. He spoke endlessly about Urdu — his passion, old times, Delhi’s past glory, and how when Jawaharlal Nehru needed to elevate his mood, he would arrange a small gathering of poets to let the Prime Minister of India drink from the cups of Urdu poetry.
It was late in the evening, and, thankfully, since the tempest had been replaced by a refreshing breeze, I sought Dehlvi’s leave, instructing Shahnawaz to ensure that the guest did not feel the slightest discomfort. By now, some local poets had dropped in. Shahnawaz was with him till midnight, taking no chances of a recurrence of monsoon of anger. Next day, 28 January, we arranged for the honoured guest a visit to the Amar Mahal Palace Museum. I spared my office vehicle and Shahnawaz escorted him to the palace located atop a hill overlooking the Tawi River. Four rooms of the palace served as art galleries and historic museum, depicting the royal history of Jammu. At the palace, the caretaker demanded that the visitors buy admission tickets. Shahnawaz reached for tickets, but Dehlvi did not like the idea of buying entry into his friend’s mansion and asked the caretaker: “Karan se meri baat karao” (Connect me to Karan), the reference being to Dr. Karan Singh, former Head of the State of Jammu & Kashmir and owner of the Aamar Mahal Palace. The phone line hummed, and Dehlvi spoke, “Karan, mai Gulzar Dehlvi bol rahan hoon. Dekho aap ke mahal mai kya ho raha hai” (Karan, it is I — Gulzar Dehlvi. See what unfolds in your palace). Dr. Karan Singh reverentially asked him to hand over the receiver to the caretaker, and his rebuke echoed through the receiver. The gates swung wide and Dehlvi — Shahnawaz in tow — wandered through the galleries. Before exiting the palace, the management dutifully served tea and snacks to the friend of their boss.
In the evening, the mushaira was held inside the spacious hall of Jammu’s Amar Singh Club, one of the oldest clubs of north India sitting on the Bikram Road, since the Academy’s Abhinav Theatre was under massive renovation. Gulzar Dehlvi presided over the mushaira and Abrar Kashif conducted the proceedings. Besides the two, the participating poets included Zubair Rizvi, Muzaffar Hanfi, Krishan Kumar Toor, Rauf Khair, Shahpar Rasool, Farhat Ehsas, Parveen Kumar Ashk, Shakil Azmi, Haseeb Soz, Fayaz Farooqi, Sardar Panchhi, Zero Bandhvi, Ashok Krishan Sahi, Abrar Kashif, Atul Ajnabi and Javed Anwar. Among the prominent local poets were Arsh Sehbayee, Pritpal Singh Betab, Shafaq Sopori, Shabeeb Rizvi, Muzaffar Iraj, Liaqat Jafri, Rukhsana Jabeen and Ahmad Shinas. The mushaira ran for five hours during which audience’s applause, like monsoon rain, drenched the hall. It was after many years, the lovers of Urdu poetry in Jammu later said, that they had listened to high-quality poetry. Gulzar Dehlvi, the maestro, received accolades for the richness of his verses and his inimitable eloquence and delivery. In his presidential address, he said that his memories of All-India Urdu Mushairas held in Jammu & Kashmir during the early second half of the last century were refreshed. He recalled that he had last attended a mushaira in the state about five decades ago, and commended the Academy for holding “a historic mushaira which will echo through years.”
On 29 January, less than 24 hours after the mushaira, we organised an interaction of prominent writers of different languages and lovers of Urdu with Gulzar Dehlvi at the K. L. Sehgal Hall of the Academy. The bard spoke about his literary journey spanning eight decades — he had begun writing poetry at the age of 7 — his association with the stalwarts of Urdu language and literature and his own literary contribution. He narrated some eyewitness accounts reflecting India’s first President, Dr. Rajindra Prasad, Jawaharlal Nehru and his father, Moti Lal Nehru’s love for Urdu. In particular, he touched upon his tireless efforts to clear some misunderstandings about Urdu in the post-Partition India. He also responded to questions from the audience on his life and poetry. In the audience were Arsh Sehbayee, Khalid Hussain, Lalit Mangotra, Masood Chowdhary, Lalit Gupta, Liaqat Jafri, Aslam Qureshi and Khurshid Kazmi. As a token of honour from the Academy, I presented a shawl to the great poet of our times and flag-bearer of Hindu-Muslim unity– Pandit Anand Mohan Zutshi Gulzar Dehlvi.
After the conclusion of the special interactive session, our distinguished guest straightaway drove to the airport to take his afternoon flight home.
Sadly, on 12 June 2020, a month before his 94th birthday, Gulzar — the blooming garden of verse — died of post-Covid-19 complications at his Noida home, marking the departure of the last of the titans of classical Urdu language.
Lamenting on being an emblem of the fading glory of Delhi, he once wrote:
Mit ti huee Dilli ka nishan hain hum log
Doondoge koyi din mai kahan hain hum log
Jalti huee shamun ke sehar ke aansun
Bhujti huee lakdi ka dhuaan hain hum log
[Translation]
We are the symbol of a dying Dehli
Soon, you will inquire where we have gone.
The pre-dawn tears of burning candles,
We are the smoke of smouldering wood.