In Shujaat’s loving memory…

By Zafar Iqbal Manha

Having picked up my I-Pad to jot down something about Shujaat, the poor gadget is staring into my face as I am not able to decide where and how to begin. If it is hard to sum up our relationship spanning some three decades in a brief write-up, still more difficult is to comment on his brutal murder in an atmosphere where fascists, sadists and stone-hearted murderers are ruling the roost, and filthy thinking permeates the echelons of power and authority in both state and non-state circles, with self-styled truths, boastful claims and self-congratulatory reasoning choking to death all other relative truths.

Shujaat is no more and I am not sure who is the next in line! But let me confess that for quite some time I had as if foreseen what was to come – that Shujaat was not going to be there for long. He was as if in a great hurry, running and running very fast, all the time, and in his hurry he may have somehow crossed that proverbial ‘Lakshman Rekha’, those invisible red-lines of which there is no dearth here.

Few months back I got a message on my whatsup about Shujaat. It talked about him having “landed up in the lap of Indian secret services” and that it was “at their behest that he was active against Kashmir’s freedom movement, particularly armed struggle here, not only at the national level but internationally as well.”

Immediately, I dialed up Shujaat, and as usual he began in a pleasantly lighter tone. But in a while he could pick up the cold seriousness in my voice and asked if everything was alright. On this I asked him whether he had gone through what all was being shared through whatsup about him.

Laughing , he said: “Sir this has been going on for quite some time now. Nursing heart-burns against me, some people are out there to denounce and defame me, and won’t let go any single opportunity of doing so. And now these very people are also poisoning the ears of ‘Big Brothers’ vis-à-vis my participation in the Dubai conference; it seems they won’t rest until they get me killed!”

I asked what had he done to ward off any possible trouble. He replied: “Look my dear, I am a journalist, and you know I have toiled hard to create an institution. I am a social activist too, and am associated with the activities aimed at the preservation and promotion of Kashmiri language and culture. Now you tell my, should I call it quits and sit home leaving all this. What will happen to the large family (of staff and associates) which is with me? Where shall they go? Should I leave all of them, and like a rat hide inside the hole for my own safety? Look at my newspaper – have I not been very vocal about any of the governmental atrocities here, as and when they have happened? But I do very strongly believe to the best of my knowledge and experience that the gun-culture and Jehadi slogans are in no way favourable to our interests.”

I asked him to be careful and dropped the phone.

In the early morning of May 02, I was returning to Srinagar through an Air Asia flight scheduled to leave at 06 am.After going through the security check, when I entered the Terminal 3 of the Delhi Airport, I heard someone calling me from behind. It was Shujaat. As usual with a smile on his face he asked: “Now which country is our ‘international traveler’ returning from!”

In the same lighter vein I retorted: “It is not only you – the Peers – who only have the right to travel and go to places! Well, I had gone nowhere. You tell me where are you coming from?”

He said that he is returning from Istanbul. “I am very hungry, let’s eat something first.”

Picking up on our previous conversation, I could feel that now he was getting pretty serious. He said that certain circles were not comfortable with his assertions about the end of violence and gun-culture in Kashmir, and that some “well-wishers are only fanning the raging fires against me”.

“But whatever the consequences, I would continue saying what I feel is right for the Kashmir and its people. And I have an unflinching faith and belief -- that – how and who would die where is already decided by the fate, and that it can’t change.And I was not the only one there.People from across also endorsed that Gun was no solution to Kashmir Problem, curtly he remarked”

We did talk about so many other things as well, which if life permits, could be shared some other time. And as we shook hands to part, I don’t know what prompted me to remind him about the previous Dubai conference, and I reminded him that besides the Late Abdul Gani Lone, some other people from across including Late Sardar Abdul Qayoom had also participated in it. But …....................!

Shujaat did notice what I was referring to and with this I started walking away towards the gate to board my flight.

We again met in the evening on June 12 in the lush green lawns of Raj Bhawan. I was returning from Abu Dhabi after spending couple of weeks there and he had just arrived from Lisbon. As usual we shared some lighter moments. Now see the coincidence – we met again at the dinner table. This time Justice (retd.) Bilal Nazki also joined in and ‘diabetes, and how to control it’ remained the focus of our conversation. Shujat praised my style of keeping diabetes at bay and at the same time insisted to enjoying the sweet dish too. We also talked about Cultural Academy and politics.As he (Shujaat) was leaving, I did ask him if there was any headway in his ‘personal situation’, and he said: “Well, am in touch with some friends; rest God knows!”Both of us left the venue with the note that after Eid Festival we shall meet and sit somewhere for a long duration and discuss issues at length.But what an irony of fate ,now the situation was that just a day before Eid, I was among the thousands of other hapless souls standing in front of Shujaat’s dead body and mourning his loss. Javed Mustafa Mir, Mohammad Ashraf Mir and some neighbours were giving young Shujaat’s body the ritual final bath. Everybody was crying while his brother Basharat Bukhari, Omar Abdullah and Nasir Aslam Wani were standing there, crestfallen with grief. Some among the big gathering were reciting supplications, some were crying loud, and some others shedding tears, silently.

I have just come thus far even though I hardly feel having said much. Right now so many different thoughts are knocking on the doors of my mind and memory that if I start recording my association with Shujaat, it may well turn into a voluminous book.

I recall that Shujaat was part of the team when Tahir Mohiuddin, Bashir Manzar, Ahmad Ali Fayaz, Reyaz Masroor, Parvez Majeed and few others visited my native village Shadaab Karewa (Shopian).Next day Shujaat did a story on it in ‘The Hindu’.

When Bashir Manzar and Abdul Rasheed Shah of ‘Nidaai Mashriq’ were abducted by Kuka Parrey, Shujaat and I were among the three dozen odd media-persons who visited his (Parrey’s) ‘court’ to plead for journalists’ release. Shujaat would always remind me of my ‘madness’ during that meeting, and even praised it. There are so many shared memories but I restrict myself to just one,nwhich is more than relevant .

Few years back, at a function to release the special ‘Shamim Ahmad Shamim number’ of weekly ‘Pukar’, I remember while the senior journalists Mohammad Syed Malik and Tahir Mohiuddin were presiding, it was my humble and so down-to-earth friend Shujaat who conducted the proceedings with great finesse. At that time nobody would have thought a dark moment will come in our lifetime that all of us will have to shoulder the coffin of our young friend so soon. And like the special Number on Shamim, I shall have to publish a ‘special Shujaat number’!of weekly Pukar.

It was at the age of fifty that Shujaat embraced martyrdom. But at such a young age he rose ranks of success and fame so quick that many an elderly people would envy his feats. Ordinary people just spend long lives like petty insects, and once they look back and reflect on their achievements, there is hardly anything worth noting. And yet there are certain others who just achieve everything mind-bogglingly quick.

Shujaat has achieved a great deal in life, and left behind a much greater legacy. He was just a human-being and like everybody else was also afflicted with simple human shortcomings and limitations, but as a good person his graph is quite envious. To my thinking his was a pious soul, a beautiful chapter that reached conclusion just too soon.

Few years back when ailing Shujaat was interned at the AIIMS New Delhi, I couldn’t control my emotions on seeing him there. He grabbed my hand, I remember, and murmured in a very feeble voice: “This was not a final ; it was a semi-final, and I have won it.”

My dear Shujaat, congratulations, you have won the finals too. On the last Friday night of the holy month of Ramazan, when your soul left the cage of worldly body, when on the Jummat-ul-Vida your earthly body returned to its origin, when thousands of people said your funeral prayers far and wide, when even those wept who do not believe in any faith or religion, your killers couldn’t muster the courage to own your murder. This is your grand success and a fitting defeat for them.

To the best of my knowledge and honest understanding you were a nice guy ,a good human-being and a true lover of Kashmir. You were truly grounded in the love for Kashmir and its people. Doubtlessly you were a truthful and obedient son, a dutiful brother, an affectionate husband and above all a friend of friends. Today or tomorrow, on our turn we too have to leave this worldly place. But that can’t match your grand end.

Forgive me, but I must say that I pity your enemies….