Friday, June 22, 2012, must have been one of the most difficult days the septuagenarian scholar Quresh Pur has had to go through in his life. Extremely learned and a bit of a recluse, he is not someone who would readily mingle with people. But on Friday, Quresh Pur could not help it. His best mate, his confidante, his Kasauti colleague, Obaidullah Baig, had passed away. He looked utterly sad and disconsolate.

All through his life he informed TV watchers about great works of literature and familiarised them with Balzac, Proust and Steinbeck. On Friday, he himself looked like a piece of literature, steeped in tradition, inherently tragic.

As soon as the namaz-i-janaza finished, Quresh Pur walked up to the coffin. He wanted to make sure that it reached the bus, waiting outside the mosque, safe and sound. He then gingerly got on to the big vehicle and sat in the seat that was closest to Obaidullah Baig’s sarahna. Throughout the 10-minute ride to the graveyard where his friend was to be buried he kept quiet, looking vacuously at the coffin.

The Defence Graveyard is on a small hill. The grave dug for Obaidullah Baig was almost on the plateau-like top of the hill. It was a steep climb ahead. It was toilsome even for the younger ones to go up the steep steps and cautiously walk along the edges of the hill, leave alone for septuagenarians. Quresh Pur, somehow, managed to muster courage to move up all the way to the grave alongside the coffin carried by men younger than him. He placed himself in one corner of the grave and waited for the rituals to begin.

It all seemed routine work until Obaidullah Baig’s body was lowered into his final resting place. After the grave was covered by concrete slabs and everybody was asked to put mitti on it, Quresh Pur extended his trembling hands and gently placed mitti three times on the grave. Once a decent-looking old man, perhaps a member of Baig’s family, began to recite the dua, Quresh Pur’s eyes welled up and his cupped hands started trembling. The dark specs that he wore could not hide the tears that had inundated

his eyes. He knew this was the last time he was being with his closest friend.

The journey down the graveyard was more cumbersome. TV cameras came hunting for Quresh Pur. He managed to sport a customary smile, in the hope that they would understand how hurt he was. He failed.—Peerzada Salman