Dear Asrar Jamayee,

Some of my friends complain that I keep writing letters to the dead people. But I cannot stop myself from dashing this missive off to you now that you are no more. It is a closure to the pains that had grounded you, put you in oblivion for years. Now that you have been relieved of multiple pains, I try to pen this tribute.

The last time I met Asrar Jamayee (1937-2020) was a couple of years ago at Maulana Abul Kalam Azad’s grandnephew and currently Maulana Azad National Urdu University (MANUU) Chancellor Firoz Bakht Ahmed’s house at the crowded Zakir Nagar in Delhi. Though an octogenarian and frail, Asrar nevertheless retained the humour in his talk that had characterized him. Mazahiya shair or humorous poet that is what distinguished him from others. He presented me a copy of Tanzpaey, a collection of his humorous poems. Self-respect tried to stop you from accepting the price that I offered to pay because he said it was a “gift”. But when I insisted and Firoz Bakht persuaded, he accepted it willy-nilly.

Asarar stayed at a one-room rented tenement in Batla House area, his books, papers and many pairs of sherwani laden with dust. He was single and lived alone. Towards the autumn of his life, he remained mostly confined to his room, ignored, disillusioned, uncared for. As if old age-related illnesses and privation were not enough to put hurdles in the path of this once peripatetic poets, a car knocked him down, fracturing one of his arms. His arm in cast, he sat at his room, awaiting help. Help came to him few and far between.

When Firoz Bakht announced on Facebook about the accident that had put the already financially drained and physically weak Asrar sahib in further trouble, I sent my younger brother Dr Mohd Qutbuddin to see him. Dr Qutbuddin drove from JNU to Zakir Nagar, accompanied Firoz Bakht and landed up at Asarar sahab’s tiny, ramshackle room. I had asked my brother to help the poet. He did help him but Firoz Bakht caught the act of giving some money to the old, ill poet on his mobile camera. Firoz Bakht subsequently posted the photograph with a small note on his Facebook wall. It received some snide comments from many who knew Asrar sahib but, I think Firoz Bakht did it only to encourage others to come forward and help the needy poet.

Asrar was cheated multiple times–by others and by his own close relatives. Born Asrar-ul-Haq in a zamindar family in Patna, Asrar’s father Syed Waliul Haq was a student of revolutionary freedom fighter, poet-journalist Maulana Mohammed Ali Jauhar at Jamia Millia Islamia University in Delhi. Jauhar, along with Mahatma Gandhi and a few others, founded Jamia Millia in 1920 and was its first vice-chancellor. Jamia was created as a nationalist institution after a group of students and teachers of Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) aligned with the Muslim League and backed its diabolical, divisive policies.

Asrar received a major setback when his own brother fudged documents to grab ancestral properties. He met Dr Zakir Hussain, educationist, former governor of Bihar and later President of India. Zakir Sahab liked his humorous poetry but, a man of vision that he was, he knew writing poetry alone would not ensure him financial stability. So he advised him to finish his Bachelor in Engineering course from BIT, Pilani. But midway this course, Asrar lost his father, returned home only to get entangled in disputes over inherited properties. Earlier, he had earned praise from India’s first President Dr Rajendra Prasad too. Few among today’s generation will believe it, but Dr Rajendra Prasad had initially studied at a madrasa and had learnt Urdu and Persian too.

Dejected, Asrar came to Delhi, adopted the moniker “Jamayee” and became part of the city’s vibrant literary culture. Clad in loose trousers and shirt (in winter he wore sherwani and pyjama), tall, thick glasses framing his face, Asrar would move with a small suitcase in hand. Ministers and politicians, including three former PMS (Rajiv Gandhi, Chandrashekhar, V P Singh, Narasimha Rao) hosted him. Former CM of Bihar Karpoori Thakur was also among his admirers. He was invited over dinner by the powerful politicians whom he regaled with his satirical poems, targeted often to the politicians. His satirical poems on Rajiv Gandhi angered some Congressmen and some of Rajiv’s chamchas even threatened Asrar. When Rajiv Gandhi heard of it, he invited the poet home and enjoyed the humorous, satirical lines he had penned on him.

When the draconian anti-terrorism law, TADA, was brought in in the 1990s, Asrar composed several poems, making fun of how TADA was misused to terrorise people.

I first met him in the mid-1990s at a tiny magazine that I worked for at Nizamuddin West in Delhi. Mr Zeyaul Haq, then executive editor of the magazine, was a connoisseur of Urdu poetry and was fond of Asrar sahab’s sharp satirical lines. Arar Shab would often come there. Seated at Zeyaul Haq Sahab’s cabin, Asarar Sahab would recite his poems, sending us in the peals of laughter. One of the couplets on TADA’s misuse went like this: Hum jo police ke dar se bumpolice mein bhage/Daroga tartaraya TADA mein band kardo (As I bolted myself inside a toilet fear the cops/the daroga asked for arresting me in TADA). Before I heard this, I did not know that public toilets were bumpolice in the local dialect of Delhi and UP.

After the demolition of the Babri Mosque on December 6, 1992, Narasimha Rao began an “outreach to Muslims” programme. A group of Urdu editors were invited to the PM’s house as part of the programme. Asrar who then also edited a newspaper called “Postmortem” was among the invitees. Narasimha Rao too enjoyed his poems that took ample potshots on the shenanigans of the politicians. Explaining the exotic name of the paper, he once said: “Others do postmortem of the dead. I do postmortem of the living.”

The cruelest treatment that this world could have meted out to Asrar was when the Delhi government declared him dead in its registers even when he was alive. A former MLA had helped start a pension of Rs 1500 monthly to Asrar who lived and worked most of his life in Delhi. Somehow, a clerk struck his name off the list of pensioners, denying him the much-needed financial help. He petitioned officers, met local MLA Amanatullah Khan a couple of times, but in vain. Once he confronted the concerned officer, saying: “Aur kya saboot chahiye mere zinda hone ka. Main aapke samne khada hoon (What other proof do you need that I am alive. I am standing before you). Mirza Ghalib had travelled from Delhi to Calcutta to get his suspended pension reopened. Ghalib returned unsuccessful. So did Asrar who never succeeded in convincing the cruel, heartless, insensitive system that he was alive and deserved his pension.

Last winter, a rumour had it that Asrar Jamayee was dead. When he heard it, Asrar stirred his old, creaky bones and came out of his dimly lit, dusty room to declare to the world that he was alive. Now he doesn’t need to do that.

Asrar’s dilemma can be best described in his own words (translation by Firoz Bakht Ahmed) : Hamdardi ki lazzat bant rahey hein khushion ke paimaney mein/ Kitney dukhi insan hein, yeh koi nahin pehchaney he/

Mulkon, mulkon, basti, basti shor hamari jurrat ka/ Bachcha, buddha, buddha, tanz hamari janey hei!”

(They are partying all and celebrating with goblets full of happiness/ No one knows the trauma and angst of my life’s sadness/ O, the bravery and boldness of my poetry is internationally known/ What to talk of adults, even the children are aware of my sadistic groan!

RIP, Asrar Jamayee.

Taken from facebook wall of the author

The post Tribute appeared first on SabrangIndia.

Asrar Jamai, 80, eminent humorous Urdu poet, declared dead by the Social Welfare Department of South Delhi in 2013 to deprive him of his Rs 1500 per month pension/ stipend for the old and aged, has been on bad days and fighting for survival. His condition is still more pathetic as he is single, has nobody to look after him and lives in a tiny rented single room littered with dust, old and worn out shervanis (overcoats) in one of the Batla House by-lanes. A pile of his newly published book containing his humorous poems, lies under a thick layer of dust that he has been trying to sell for his survival. Since then, he has requested to the Delhi governments (Sheila’s and Kejriwal’s) but nothing has been done.

When he took all the relevant papers to prove his right for the old age pension, the officers there became belligerent. “I told the officials that I am standing in front of you, what else can be the biggest proof? The official replied that he knew that I am alive, but he couldn’t help as the records mentioned him to be dead.” If someone is listening, please do the needful for getting this poet aster his rightful pension. Requests to the Delhi Chief Minister too have not entailed any response.

Jamayee  has sacrificed his life for the uplift of Urdu. Till recently, he was invited to the mushairas (poetic gatherings) but now, no one invites him as he is considered too old. As I have known him for almost a quarter of a century as a sincere friend, I also help him type his poems and his signature type visiting card slips containing satirical couplets pertaining to the present times, like the one on paucity of drinking water:

“Jis desh mein Ganga behti hei/ Us desh mein pani bikta hei.”
(Ganga flows on the Indian land/ Ironically, potable water, here is sold)
Jamayee often drops in at my place on the Main Road in Zakir Nagar from where he buys his daily food from Javed Nahari Wala. So many times, I told him that he could have food at my place but owing to his towering self esteem (which all poets have), he never acquiesces to my request.  Even today, while he is able to walk with a lot of difficulty, he distributes these couplets to his acquaintances, especially the ones he likes.

It is a matter of serious concern that the big Urdu platforms like the NCPUL (National Council for the Promotion of Urdu Language), Urdu Academy, Ghalib Academy and highly circulated Urdu newspapers like Inquilab, Rashtriya Sahara, Sahafat, Hamara Samaj, Hindustan Express, Jadeed Khabar, Jung Delhi, Mera Watan besides others, all Delhi based who all know about the pathetic state of life of Jamayee don’t bother. In spite of the fact that the author has been speaking about helping this illustrious poet, only lip service is indulged in.

In order that his stipend of Rs 1500 is revived, the author not only referred him to the local MLA, Amanatullah Khan, who can get it done but personally visited his office thrice to speak to him as well as his secretaries but all in vain. Of course whatever is possible for the author, he personally helps Asrar. When Jamayee had gone to the MLA’s office for the pension, he was treated very shoddily and in fact humiliated in public. Another way that he was harassed by the Okhla MLA was that he was given a Jammu and Kashmir Bank cheque bearing one thousand rupees but that never got honoured in spite of Jamayee’s umpteen visits at the said bank.

Since then, he called it a day. However, Jamayee is appreciative of the previous MLA, Asif Mohammed Khan owing to whose efforts, this pension was started for him. He is often helped by Mushtaq Ahmed Alig, an advocate, M Afzal, ex-MP, Azeem Akhtar, an Urdu columnist, Zaki Tariq, a writer and Sirajuddin Qureshi, president, India Islamic Cultural Center. Asrar’s couplet fits in this position well:

“Hamdardi ki lazzat bantey rahey hein khushion ke paimaney mein/ Kitney dukhi insan hein, yeh koi nahin pehchaney he/ Mulkon, mulkon, basti, basti shor hamari jurrat ka/ Bachcha, buddha, buddha, tanz hamari janey hei!”

(They are partying all and celebrating with goblets full of happiness/ No one knows the trauma and angst of my life’s sadness/ O, the bravery and boldness of my poetry is internationally known/ What to talk of adults, even the children are aware of my sadistic groan!)

It’s not that Jamayee, a worthy son of Patna, Bihar, hasn’t seen good days. While he was still young, he had been appreciated and awarded by first Indian President, Dr Rajendra Prasad. Besides, owing to his hillarious poetry, he has also been the guest of APJ Abdul Kalam, Indian President, Rajiv Gandhi, the previous Prime Minsiter and Karpoori Thakur, Bihar’s Chief Minister besides others, all connoisseurs of his comical satire. But today, when Asrar is past his prime, nobody is concerned. Pointing at his shervanis, Jamayee says, “Gone are the days when these used to travel to Dubai, Kuwait and Europe.”

Though born in Patna in 1937 as Abrar-ul-Haq, his father Syed Wali-ul-Haq was a student of the eminent Khilafat movement leader and companion of Gandhi, Maulana Mohammed Ali Jauhar besides being a zamindar (landowner). Jamayee was lucky to come to Delhi’s Jamia Millia Islamia under the tutelage of Dr Zakir Hussain, the ex-President of India and a celebrated Urdu scholar, who, witnessing his multi-pronged caliber, asked him to pursue his engineering at Birla Institute of Technology and Science, Pilani, and side by side also carry on with his passion for humorous poetry. It was at this time that he added the moniker, “Jamayee” in his name and started reciting his poetry publicly that ensued a huge response.

Half way through his engineering course, Asrar got the sad news of his father’s demise and returned to Patna where he started an institute for coaching young aspirants for medicine and engineering. In the meanwhile, because property disputes and discord in the family, he suffered immensely and even lost his mother. Owing to all this mess, he could not get married. Of course, he is wed locked to his poetry, his first and last love! His younger brother, Iqbal Yousuf is not on good terms with him as he has been under the influence of some detractors of Asrar. His is a common family property dispute story where he is the sufferer.

Again, Jamayee came back to Delhi only to see his room being occupied by some land sharks who he could not fight. More than the room, he lamented the loss of his books, published pieces, original compilations of poetry that were all destroyed in his absence. He suffered this unsurpassable loss of his huge literary record and collection and still is not out of it.

Long time ago Jamayee deserved an award like the Padma Shri or the Urdu Academy Award but was denied each time as these were rendered to people who could manage political lobbying. But presently, as he doesn’t keep well and is all alone to fend for himself, most important is that the Delhi government resumes his pension. Recently during the previous winter, while Jamayee fell sick and was not seen outside, many thought what the pension officers had thought about him — that he was no more.  That’s why, the poet writes in Tanzparey, his latest humorous book:
“Shayar, adeeb aap se jaltey hein kis liye/ Poochha to boley Jamayee, mukhlis hein sab merey/ Jaisey ke ek chiragh se jaltey hein kuchh chiragh/ Shayar, adeeb mujh se bhi jaltey hein is liye!”
(Poets and writers are most envious of me/ Know you all that I am a well wisher of thee/ Aghast at my exceptional talent of poetry/ That I might walk away with an award, they are scary!”
Nevertheless, Jamayee  has published four books on comical poetry besides some booklets on Indian history. He also used to published an entertaining Urdu fortnightly, Post Mortem that contained caricatures of the who’s who when he was able to save from his mushaira earnings but now he has almost turned into a pauper trying to sell his new book @ Rs 300 but there are hardly any buyers..

As he keeps on falling sick and nobody is there to take care of him, Asrar Jamayee also wanted an accommodation in one of the old age homes in Delhi but could not do so as he could not afford the high rent there. Besides, he was refused by some of these old age homes for any concession. Usually the rent of the old age home us paid by the son or the daughter of the person and Asrar has none. Very truly in his own words:

“Samjhoge usey kaisey, jo Asrar he Haq ka/ Asrar ka Asrar faqat naam nahin hei!”
(It’s not easy to understand the righteousness in his name/ Eternal is the secret of the truth of Asrar’s fame)

APPEAL:
Those who want to help Asrar Jamayee, please note his bank account details:
Name: Asrar Jamayee
Bank 1: Jamia Cooperative Bank Ltd, Batla House, Jamia Nagar, New Delhi 110 025; Account No.: 133637; IFS Code: UTIBOSJCB01
Bank 2: State Bank of India, Account No.: 33408872396, IFS Code: SBIN00008079
Asrar Jamayee address: H.No. 161/52 Block RS, Hasrat Mohani Lane, Jogabai Extn., Okhla, New Delhi 110 025. Asrar mobile: 9968065333. Phone No of his caretaker: Shandar Siddiqui-9971267602

(The author is a Commentator on social, educational and religious issues, grandnephew of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad)

Courtesy: Counterview.net
 

The post Struggle for Survival: The Sorry Tale of Eminent Urdu Poet, 80, Declared ‘Dead’ by Pension Office appeared first on SabrangIndia.