Studying with Hindus and Christians at Saint Gabriel Primary School, Quetta and playing in the peaceful streets with his age-fellows are some of the memories of a rich childhood cherished by Ali Baba Taj.
“I never heard a single derogatory word about any sect, religion or political ideology at home. It left a lasting impression on my mind and I lived my life with a firm faith in humanity,” he says.
Nostalgic about the city life during the late 1970s and early ‘80s, he believes that it was the best time he lived in his hometown. He discovered the pleasure of reading at a tender age and reading books assigned to senior classes was his best pastime.
“I surprised my parents and others around by reading a Persian poster on a public phone booth during a visit to Tehran when I was hardly 10 years old,” he vividly recalls.
“I idealised someone at a very young age and the fantasy served as an inspiration to write. During high school I realised my skills to express feelings in words. The literary club at school was my first exposure to literature.”
He kept reading and grooming himself as a creative writer. Study circles with Marxist friends and a passion to read Persian literature, philosophy and history played a major role in shaping up his poetry, which smartly dissects the political narratives and social behaviours.
His Persian and Urdu poems got recognised among literary circles during the late ‘90s. The first compilation of Urdu poetry, Muthee May Kuch Sansee, published in 2007 was widely appreciated by readers and his contemporaries.
Ali Baba treasures the memories of the time he spent in Lahore and interaction with literary figures during the late ‘90s.
“There was a rich culture of literary discussions. Pak Tea House, YMCA, Old Anarkali, tea stalls at Lakshmi Chowk and Ichhra were the dens of poets and writers. I am grateful to all my friends, especially Shakoor Rana, for his love and support. The group of vagabonds I spent time with produced big names of art and literature,” he narrates.
“The literary scene of Lahore seems rustic now but the activities in Rawalpindi and Islamabad remind me of the good old days of Lahore,” he said with nostalgia.
A gold medalist in Persian literature, he opted to teach as a profession after doing his masters in 2004. “I am lucky to be in a profession which is close to my heart and creative self.”
Mesmerised by the magical beauty of Quetta, he wrote a large number of poems carrying an undercurrent of deep pain that he faced and observed firsthand as part of the targeted Hazara community that suffered from sectarian violence in the last two decades.
“I have no words to express what we are going through, but I tried my level best to transform the gloomy shades into hope and fears into courage. Whenever I presented my works in other cities where people are mostly writing romantic themes, my poetry changed the mood and looked out of context for those who have no idea what we Hazaras are facing. It seems embarrassing, but one should write sincerely, responsibly and without being afraid or apologetic,” he firmly believes.
“I was pressurised by the well-wishers not to risk my life and leave Quetta. I decided to go through the tough times, realising that if I leave the city to secure my life, I am going to kill my creative self and live with guilt for the rest of my life,” he concluded.
Published in Dawn, September 16th, 2018
