VISITING Delhi, to me, has always been something like revisiting the past. These days Delhi is known as New Delhi and has a culture very different from the one we associate with the old Delhi, tracing it back to the times of Mir and Ghalib. In this regard, a question that springs to mind is: Has New Delhi, in spite of its new culture, been able to detach itself from the shadows of the past, whose relics can still be seen strewn all over the city? Perhaps not. While walking on the footpaths along the Cannaught Palace or India Gate, I felt that significant events of the past, symbolized in Qutab Minar, the Red Fort, and the Shahjehan Masjid, were still able to cast their shadows on the new city.
The old buildings seem to be at peace with modern times. The only exception is the Shahjehani Masjid. When I, along with my friends Ataul Haq Qasmi, Dr Saleem Akhtar and Asghar Nadeem Sayed, visited the place, it appeared to be a sad sight. Rusty minarets and walls of the masjid seemed complaining about the negligence on the part of its custodians as far as its preservation was concerned.
Saddened, we returned to New Delhi and went straight to a book fair. In fact, it was precisely the occasion, which had provided us an opportunity to pay a visit to the city. The Pakistan Publishers Association, in collaboration with the Pakistan Book Foundation under Ahmad Faraz had planned the tour. A few writers from Lahore and Karachi had been invited to embark on a friendly journey to Delhi, where the Federation of India Publishers was to welcome them.
The arrival of Pakistani writers created a stir in the literary circles of Delhi. The Sahitya Academy welcomed us warmly. Dr Gopi Chand Narang eloquently introduced Ahmad Faraz, Zehra Nigah, Prof Sahar Ansari, Dr Saleem Akhtar, Ataul Haq Qasmi, Asghar Nadeem Sayed, and myself to the multi-lingual audience of Delhi. Dr Narang is these days chairman of the academy. It is for the first time in the history of the Sahitya Academy that an Urdu writer has been elected to head this prestigious literary body, which represents all languages of India.
Next to host Pakistani writers was the Anjuman Taraqqi-i-Urdu (Hind), headed by the eminent Urdu scholar, Khaliq Anjum.
The visit to the Jawahar Lal Nehru University had quite a different flavour for some of us, who chose to go there despite heavy rainfall and had to face a series of questions posed by the politically conscious students of the university.
It was still raining when I took leave of my hosts and companions and hurried to the India International Centre (ICC) where Mr and Mrs Narang were waiting for me. The IIC is perhaps the most prestigious spot for creative people in Delhi. It’s a nice place, whose doors are open only to writers, scholars, and artists. No other soul, howsoever important, is entertained here. I relish each and every moment whenever I have the opportunity to stay here or be entertained in any of its corners by my friends. I still remember a precious evening in the recent past when our honourable high commissioner in India had invited us to dinner at his residence. I somehow stole a few moments from that evening and along with Asghar Nadeem Sayed rushed to the IIC, where Ashok Vajpay and Ajeet Cour, along with a host of Hindi writers, were waiting for us. They included Dr Namvar Singh, Kaidar Nath Sharma, Krishna Sobti and a few others.
I also remember a rain-soaked pleasant morning when Rakhshinda Jaleel, who has distinguished herself as a translator of Hindi and Urdu literature into English, drove me to Jamia Millia, which had a surprise for me in store. As I entered the hall, I was pleasantly surprised to see on the stage, beside Jamia’s vice-chancellor Prof Mushirul Hasan, a friend estranged from us for long, who was now ready to introduce me to the Jamia’s audience. He was Aijaz Ahmad. It was in the early ‘60s that a young soul, fresh from the FC College made his entry into tea house, joined us at our table and began discussing literature in a passionate way. He started his writing career by translating some selected stories from James Joyce’s Dubliners, which was soon followed by a critical article on Miraji’s verse. But soon he proceeded to America, and it was during his stay there that he made his mark as a writer. Now I found him out in Delhi occupying the newly-established Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan chair in Jamia.
Truly speaking, while in Delhi, it is Jamia Nagar where I feel perfectly at home. It was really pleasant to meet Shameem Hanafi, Ubaid, Rakhshinda Zubair and so many other friends in Jamia’s surroundings. And how pleasant it was to stroll to the residence of Shamim Hanafi and from Shamim’s residence to the house of Shamsur Rahman Farooqi’s daughter Baran, who teaches English at Jamia. And as if it was not enough, Farooqi Sahib was there ready to serve me with Muzafir, a dish that’s nowadays hard to find.
August 27 was my last day in Delhi. Early in the morning my old friend Rooti Saran Sharma, who had just come from Mumbai, picked me up from the hotel and went straight to his sister’s residence, where she welcomed me with a Rakhi in her hand. It was then that I realized that I was leaving Delhi on the eve of Rakhsha Bandhan, which would be celebrated a day after my departure; a day when every sisters ties a Rakhi to the wrist of her dear brother. But the realization came a tad too late. I had to rush to the airport.
VISITING Delhi, to me, has always been something like revisiting the past. These days Delhi is known as New Delhi and has a culture very different from the one we associate with the old Delhi, tracing it back to the times of Mir and Ghalib. In this regard, a question that springs to mind is: Has New Delhi, in spite of its new culture, been able to detach itself from the shadows of the past, whose relics can still be seen strewn all over the city? Perhaps not. While walking on the footpaths along the Cannaught Palace or India Gate, I felt that significant events of the past, symbolized in Qutab Minar, the Red Fort, and the Shahjehan Masjid, were still able to cast their shadows on the new city.
