#14: The Most Fascinating Person I Never Met!

The Most Fascinating Person I Never Met…

By: Syed Umar Shams Shah.

It was a gloomy day; the sky was overcast, winds jittery, clouds panicky, trees bent in submission, roads desolated, and the waters stagnant. It was yet another day in the occupied land, where people’s mouths are constantly zipped with the nozzle of the gun. I crept over the mud wall of my old-structured brick house, located in the backyard of my village. I moved stealthily towards the rice fields – lush with a promising crop. Wading through the greenery, stumbling, dwindling and tripping over the obstacles of the narrow muddy pathways, I ran swiftly, ensuring to evade the surveillance of the suspicious eye. Despite the gloom of the appalling situation of my people, there has had always been a hope of seeing a bright future one day. I wanted to make a difference; I wanted to make a contribution; however small that may have been towards the well-being of my people and of my nation. It was this yearning and this hope that was taking me to places – to talk, to discuss, to shout, to cry, to feel, and to do anything for my nation. Today I was running, not away from my people, but towards my leader. The leader, I heard, was at the Pend (the mud porch in the rice field, normally used by the farmer to sit and relax). He was the man, I had believed, would free my people from the shackles of suppression and oppression. I had heard about his resolve and his sincerity towards my people, just as I would envision it, for he was one among us, one like us. I wasn’t sure whether he would allow me to see him, but I was desperate to listen to him, to see him, to feel his words, that I believed spoke of his confidence, of his trust and of his compassion.

As I approached the Pend, my heart started pounding faster. I was upbeat to see him yet I was afraid – afraid to lose my conviction, afraid to lose faith, afraid to believe, what if the Leader wasn’t what I believed him to be? But I put my trust in the Lord and emerged out of the fields, onto the Bund that adorned the village canal, the waters of which were sweet and milky. While walking atop the Bund, I could see my leader from a distance – sitting calmly, as if in his reading room. As I approached him close enough to see the scintillating mole on his cheeks, a sense of belonging took me over. While my leader seemed to be engrossed in the nature’s beauty, I stopped my feet at a distance, as if in asking permission to proceed. He rose up and opened his arms, as if he had been waiting for my arrival. I could see the affable smile on his face and a deep compassion in his eyes, I just couldn’t hold myself back and ran into his arms. He hugged me tight, as my Granddad would when I was a young boy. I paid my respects too and we sat down for a chat. He wasn’t alone there; I could see his companions at a distance, blowing into the Samovar (Traditional Copper Kettle). They were preparing the Noone chai (Salt Tea), perhaps, for the whole group. But I was pleased that it gave me a few solitary moments with my leader.

I jumped the pleasantries and asked him earnestly, the question that had been bludgeoning my mind for so long – “Leader, Can we ever be a Free Nation?” He looked into my eyes, which felt divine, and smiled so contagiously at me but he didn’t utter a word. I waited a moment and gestured with my eyebrows, as if nudging him to answer. His grin grew wider but he still did not answer. I urged him again, “Leader, I am confused, should we keep the hopes alive, against all odds?” He sighed and repeated the word, “Hopes!! Hmmmm…”exhaling the breath.

He held my hand and began to draw a line, for a moment I thought it was something to do with astrology. His appearance wasn’t clerical, yet there was a mystic charm in his style, the way he gestured, the way he smiled, the way he uttered the words – so soft, so overwhelming. He said, “Son, Hope is the only weapon we have! Hopes are like dreams. They don’t scatter, they don’t die by the bullet of the barbarian. Hope is a light, a wind – unstoppable by the mountains of oppression. Hope is the glitter that blinds the enemy in the battle of swords. Have an unwavering hope, My Son! for it is your strength and your deed.”

It was fascinating to hear him; his every word struck me like a Moezzin’s call for prayer. His words were as if he pulled the rug under my feet, saying,

“Son, Can we be a ‘Free Nation’? No.”

Before I could look at him in a dejected belief, he continued,

“Not until we become a Nation first. Son, we will have to become a nation first – A nation where everyone feels to be a part of this aspiration. We have to develop cohesiveness, a belonging for one another. We cannot be free until all of us aspire to be free. A miniscule fanatically aspirant group among us cannot win freedom for a large lethargic group. We cannot afford bitter discords within us. If we have to be a nation, we will have to bind everyone by the same rope – the rope of belongingness, the rope of harmony and the rope of unity. We will have to accommodate more and more people into this bandwagon of Nationhood. Lets not leave behind people for their differing religious and political views. If we have to be a Nation, we will have to accept differences, not fight over them. Merely opposing the oppressor won’t set us free. We will have to build our nation. We will have to conserve and efficiently utilize its resources. We will have to develop the kinship and ownership with our resources. We will have to enrich our culture, not curb it. We will have to fight for our language not extinct it. We will have to undo the wrongs. The oppressor has created a wedge within each one of us. Lets start by bringing the refugees back. Lets build homes for those whose lives were shattered by the cruel forces. Lets stop killing one another. Let not a widow of my nation feel secluded and left behind. Let not an orphan feel orphaned everyday. Let not a mother cry again for her disappeared son. We have been weakened by the complicity of our own brothers with our occupiers. Lets stop being the puppets in the hands of any of our oppressors. Until and unless each one us is indoctrinated with the sense of care and love for the nation, its people, its resources, the concept of nationhood is going to be a distant dream, My son. Lets revive and be the vibrant and the tolerant society that we were, Lets build the nation – the Nation of Kashmir, first.”

I sat there at the Pend, by the side of my leader, completely engrossed into his powerful oration – forgetting even to blink my eyes. It felt as if I was in the midst of a crowd of a hundred thousand men and my leader was urging each one of us with the passionate appeal.

It was surreal to hear him say the things no one ever spoke with such boldness and such passion. His every word was laced with sincerity and with action. He patted me on the back and gently touched my cheek, saying:

“Son, I want each one like you to be the torch bearer for this nation. I want you to grow into a man who upholds everyone’s right to live and who defends this right with devotion. I want you to stop siding with the oppressor. I want you to uphold truth under all circumstances, be it even against yourself, your family or anyone. I want you to be religious, the religiosity that teaches compassion, tolerance and harmony with each one of Lord’s creation. I want you to be secular too, the secularism that does not disrespect religions, neither your own nor someone else’s. I want you to be a nationalist, the nationalist who cares for his motherland, for its inhabitants and for each one of its resources. I want you to be a unionist too, the unionist who doesn’t impose wars and misery on other nations, who believes in harmony and tranquility with neighbours.

Son, I want you to work for your people with utmost devotion and sincerity, as you would, serving the Lord Himself. I want you to give each one of your fellowmen the sense of dignity, self esteem and mutual respect. They have been wronged, they have been suppressed for long, and they have been left destitute on the road of hopelessness. I want you to be their Hope!”

My eyes were awash with tears of joy about the belief my Leader infused in me, and of the grief too, of my people’s misery; But I heard my Mom’s voice calling me from behind.

I looked at my Leader to seek permission to leave, but he was gone. I only saw my Mom with a Mug of water, saying:

“This is the 3^rd time I have been calling you out to wake you up. It’s getting late for the Fajar Namaz (Morning Prayers), are you waking up or shall I pour this water onto you?”

I ran out of the bed, sweating and confused – wondering if my dream of the fascinating leader could ever become true. He indeed was (and has been so far) the most fascinating person I Never met.

(I wrote the above article for a recent essay competition, and WON the second place. Missed the first place by a whisker, as the only reason that pushed me to the second place was the excess of word count. Mine was 1600 while it was supposed to be 1500. Anyways, any appreciation is a good appreciation.)

Waiting for My Leader to come!