Poet of the people

Mein sehra-e-mohabbat ka musafir tha ‘Faraz’;

Ek jhonka tha ki khushboo ke safar par nikla

There are poets whose verses sit quietly in books, waiting to be read. And then there are poets like Ahmad Faraz, whose poetry doesn’t wait — it finds you, wraps around your thoughts and refuses to let go.

Born Syed Ahmad Shah on January 12, 1931, in Kohat, Faraz belonged to a family of Pashtun Syeds. His father wanted him to become a doctor or civil servant, but Faraz chose another path: he chose to hurt beautifully. His words were never embellished for ornament because they were honest, immediate and personal.

“Jab ke sab ke waaste laaye hain kapde sale se;

Laaye hain mere liye qaidi ka kambal jail se.” That was Faraz as a teenager, disappointed by a simple Eid gift, turning his heartbreak into his first couplet. And from there began a journey where everything — lost lovers, betrayal, dictatorship – became poetry. His early years in Peshawar were shaped by the air of literature and the spirit of rebellion. The verses of Faiz Ahmed Faiz and Ali Sardar Jafri stirred something in him.

In Tanha Tanha, his debut collection, Faraz gave the ghazal a new vocabulary — one that was soft but sharp, romantic yet revolutionary. He wrote of love, but not always the love that stayed. Often, it was the one that left, that hurt, that returned only in dreams. “Ab ke hum bichhde to shayad kabhi khwabon mein milen; Jis tarah sukhe hue phool kitaabon mein milen”. Faraz became the voice of the heartbroken.

But he was also a thorn in the side of tyrants. When General Zia-ul-Haq’s military dictatorship attempted to silence dissent, Faraz refused to lower his voice. He was imprisoned, then forced into exile, and yet, his verses only grew louder. “Tu wahin haar gaya tha mere buzdil dushman; Mujh se tanha ke muqaabil tera lashkar nikla”.

When he returned to Pakistan, he held prestigious literary posts, but his principles never wavered. In protest against authoritarianism, he returned the Hilal-e-Imtiyaz, one of Pakistan’s highest civil honours, teaching us yet again: “Tum takalluf ko bhi ikhlaas samajhte ho Faraz; Dost hota nahi har haath milane wala”. He was sung across borders. His verses flowed from the lips of Mehdi Hasan, Jagjit Singh, Noor Jehan, Ghulam Ali and Runa Laila. The legendary ghazal “Ranjish hi sahi, dil hi dukhane ke liye aa” became an anthem for the longing. On August 25, 2008, he passed away quietly in Islamabad, but he never really belonged to any one place or time. He belonged to every heart that has ever broken in silence and to every voice that trembled before power.

Poets like Faraz don’t die. They echo. But, Faraz was not only the poet of love. He was the poet of what happens after love. Of what happens when love hurts, leaves, returns or fights back. And always, always, he reminded us: “Shaayad ‘Faraz’ tum bhi kahin qaid ho kal ki tarah; Seher ki baat karo, raat ki baat na chhedo”. He gave us the permission to feel, to love without shame, to resist without fear, to speak even when trembling. And perhaps, that is why we still return to him, again and again. Not just to read him.

But to find ourselves in him.

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