There lives a man in my neighbourhood, Abbas Zaidi. His white flowing hair, crackling laughter, patrician features, grooming in classical Urdu and Persian poetry and penchant for art make him stand out and shine. But it is a dull, comfortable shine because his sophistication and exquisite tastes are kneaded in humility and grace. He is so well rounded that a connoisseur of art and a philistine would enjoy his company equally. No one less could have experienced such a special relationship with Sadequain.

Sadequain was the genius that we produced in the world of art, always reflecting an indifferent charm and a unique elegance through his poise. It was M.H. Askari, the journalist serving in the Pakistani mission in India as its Press and Information Secretary around the same time, who wrote in the 'Holy Sinner' that Abbas Zaidi had a mesmeric hold on Sadequain. 'Holy Sinner' is by far the best and most authentic book, rather compendium, produced on the life and works of the great artist.

I cherish Abbas Zaidi's company and we recite to each other the verses of Mir Taqi Mir whenever we meet. Sifting through some of his papers the other day, I chanced upon a rare document. It was a copy of a handwritten letter from Sadequain to Gen Zia-ul-Haq which he sent to him from India through Pakistan Embassy on Zaidi's advice. Abbas Zaidi, who retired as our ambassador, remained a career diplomat and served on the Pakistani mission in New Delhi during the early 1980s. Sadequain went to India as part of a high level delegation but ended up spending more than a year in the country. Knowing the views and lifestyles of both these gentlemen, I was a bit intrigued to find more about the letter and also about the time Abbas Zaidi spent with Sadequain.

Zaidi recalls that his first meeting with Sadequain happened in Lahore a little ahead of the Islamic Summit in 1974. The government had initially decided to present the heads of the states of Muslim countries with the maestro's calligraphic art on goatskin. However, the organisers later decided to present them with gold cufflinks. When Sadequain was informed of the decision, he was more amused than upset. "Gold to Gulf", he said to General Raza, the chief organiser.

It was in 1981 that Sadequain arrived in India. He had come for fourteen days but ended up spending fourteen months. After all he was an artist. Sadequain found a massive canvas in the shape of India. He travelled the length and breadth of the country, painted lavishly, met people from different walks of life and spoke to learned audiences. The prestigious institute of geo-physics in Hyderabad (Andhra), the historic Aligarh Muslim University, the Hindu University in Benaras and the splendid Hamdard Islamic Institute in Delhi are among the major institutions where Sadequain painted murals and inscribed his calligraphy. He painted on his own as well. The then prime minister of India, Mrs Indira Gandhi, gave a carte blanche to Sadequain to live there for as long as he wished and do whatever he would like to do. Those were the stifling times of Gen Zia's martial rule in Pakistan. Sadequain was seen as a liberal artist, poet and intellectual. Indians wanted to pamper him. The prime minister had met him on the second day of his arrival. He was invited to parties and receptions. But the only small favours Sadequain ever accepted were from the Pakistan Embassy. Ambassadors Abdul Sattar, Saeed Dehlvi, Munir Sheikh and Riaz Khokhar, all took care of him. Sadequain never failed to mention the kindness of Sattar.

[box10]According to Zaidi, Sadequain was the roving cultural ambassador of that dynamic and enlightened segment of Pakistani society which seldom gets recognition elsewhere. Coming from a generation that still retained its hope in Pakistan, he insisted on staying in that very room of Imperial Hotel in Delhi where Quaid-i-Azam used to stay, though he had to be moved to a cheaper place soon, Zaidi recalls with a smile.

After the provision of material, Sadequain never charged for any work that he did in India. Subsequently, he fell short of funds. Sadequain remembered that he had remitted a fair bit of money to Pakistan legally through "proper channels". That was from the work commissioned to him in the middle east. As it happens, the Ministries of Finance and Foreign Affairs back home rejected Sadequain's request to send him his own money. That was the occasion when Abbas Zaidi advised him, "Let's get something good out of Zia, for a change." And the maestro wrote a letter to the president, Gen Zia-ul-Haq. Letter writing in Urdu is a genre in itself, perfected by none other than Ghalib. The content, the poignant lines, the hidden and not-so-hidden slights at the powerful, the subtle humour and the calligraphic handwriting make Sadequain's letter to Zia a piece of art. The letter worked and the money arrived. Being aware of Sadequain's extravagance, Zaidi would get the money released in instalments before it was all spent. However, the clipped metaphorical messages exchanged in writing between Abbas Zaidi and Sadequain on the arrival of the "reinforcements" somehow survived.

Sadequain was a dervish who believed in the universal values of humanism and dreamt of a just and egalitarian society. His heart bled at Pakistan being run in an undemocratic and oppressive way but he conducted himself with tremendous dignity and candour while having a fulfilling time in India. Sadequain and Zaidi kept meeting in Pakistan later and enjoyed each other's company. Zaidi has so many other stories to tell. But I found the tale of the two dressed-up fakirs in the land of the naked fakir worthy to be told to my readers. May Sadequain rest in peace and may Zaidi live long and enrich us with more such tales from the past.
 

Harris Khalique is a poet and author based in Islamabad

Comments (5 comments)

Sadequain was staying at 19 Jangpura, New Delhi in a rented house. His family including me, my wife, sister and mother were also in India at that time and spent most of our time with him in our native Amroha. I remember the visit clearly. Its interesting to note that this letter was written in my presence and partly on our account as we had changed our route from land to air back to Pakistan and needed funds relatively quickly. A loving uncle, he was at pains to take care of this and many other things. Ambassador Sattar Sahib, who later became Foreign Secretary and Foreign Minister, received us very kindly and was happy to oblige my uncle in every way possible.

Posted: Tuesday, August 14, 2012 by Sultan Ahmed Naqvi from Karachi

If a poet (Harris Khalique) can find a treasure trove ....Sadequain's letter to President Zia written thirty years ago......what stops Salman Ahmed from finding such jewels? He says he heads a foundation using Sadequain's name !!. Sulking takes one to nowhere.

Posted: Sunday, August 12, 2012 by Shaiganazhar from Lahore , Pakistan

Salman Ahmed's comment is incomprehensible. From your excellent coverage of Sadequain's letter and a remarkable accompanying piece by Harris Khalique it is obvious that Sadequain worked on large murals in dozens of reputed academic and research institutions in India. These are for millions of people to see over time. This is what Sadequain focuses on in his letter to Zia Ul Haq in chaste Urdu and this is what the write up in English highlights. Salman Ahmed seems to have missed out the argument in both the languages. His lament is totally.misplaced. Murals at public places cannot be taken away or hidden behind closed doors.

Posted: Sunday, August 12, 2012 by Zohra Malik from Islamabad

Sadequain's contribution to the nation is unparalleled and unsurpassed. But he is a victim of institutions and individuals who are hoarding his treasure trove and not sharing it with the world. SADEQUAIN Foundation has so far published 10 books on Sadequain, but there is not one shred of information contributed by any Pakistani institution or individual. And this is not because of lack of trying by the Foundation. If Sadequain was a cultural ambassador as the article claims, then why is his work mothballing and locked behind closed doors. A sad commentary indeed.

Posted: Saturday, August 11, 2012 by Salman Ahmad from San Diego, California, USA

thank you very much !

Posted: Friday, August 10, 2012 by Ozair Khalid from Malir Halt, Karachi - Pakistan