Mathrubhumi (Malayalam Daily) carried an article in a late November issue about an unknown person who had sacrificed his life for the sake of two human beings whom he had never met!
Mr. Ranjit’s article -he is one of my favorite film maker- was as poignant as his movies were. I am an emotional person and as usual it left a lump in my throat for a long while. The write-up about Noushad's, heroic though futile act stirred the same kind of emotion in me when his heroic effort to save his fellow humans was first reported a couple of days before.
I too wanted to do my bit, and express my tribute to that departed great soul, and I hope Mr. Ranjit will not mind when (and if) he comes to know that his article has been translated and published (in my blog) without his permission.
My appologies, Mr. Ranjit, for not taking your permission before publishing it, and also for loosing the poignancy the article originally had, by my sloppy translation.
For me, the name Nowshad used to represent those melodious
songs like
Mere Mehboob thujhe meri mohabat ki kasam ……….,
filling my silent afternoons and cold nights. For me, so far, Noushad was also that dear artist,
portly friend of mine who used to cook delicious dishes of my liking.
But today Nowshad for me is nothing of those. Few days back, he went down a man-hole which
turned out to be his death-hole. Why did he do that? Just to save two unknown human
beings, whom he had not seen, even once in his life; trapped inside? I feel
proud of being a citizen of that city where this simple auto-driver had lived
and departed half way through his life. Though sad as he is there no more, I am
also proud to proclaim myself to be his fellow-citizen.
I am sad and confused about our sense of direction. Are we
moving forward; or backwards? It seems We
are living in a country and society that is partitioned into religion, caste, and
creed; a country that has its demonstrative power walking sprees and social
gatherings to discuss about vote-banks and its leakages, and challenges; a
country where people had become filthy rich by merchandising politics, caste, creed and religion.
We have
to mine deep to get that precious and atypical thing called raw humanity. We
have easily partitioned even the nature by allocating different hues to it
along with human. Today a person sitting next to you is no more a similar one
like you; instead he is of a certain religion or social group.
Even refugee
camps pitch tents of segregation; allocating them to the victims on caste and
religious lines. What a wretched time has come to pass….
In such a milieu, my dear Noushad; you went down a death
hole to save two human-beings, about whose religion, caste, and statehood you
were ignorant of; and came out of it as another dead body.
My dear Nowshad ,
today you are not just a name for me; you are the embodiment of goodness, much
larger and brighter than the Sun itself.
From a world which is nefariously fragmented and gearing up to fight one another; in the name
of tolerance and intolerance, in the name of cow and beef, in the name of temple and mosque, in the name
of saffron and scarf; you, my dear friend from Calicut; you left your tea
served for you untouched, and scrambled away to save another life.
You, my dear
Noushad, had emerged out of a motley crowd of us – a bunch of practical
pen-pushers, who actively intervene in all matters and also at the same time take
care that it does not harm us physically in any way – to save two wretched and
“worthless” human souls, hailing from Andhra Pradesh, whom we normally address with
all contempt and disdain as ‘migrant laborers’.
On that road, through which you might have plied your auto scores of
time, I stand, my dear Noushad, with my eyes brimming with tears, visualizing
your last heroic run to eternity.
There
is a difference between the usual Government rescue forces and Noushad who arrived at the scene of accident leaving
his cozy perch in the tea-stall and his hot tea. It was not at all a part of
his official duty. He was responding to a distress call of two raw human beings
with a soul full of agony and two bare hands. It was a sacrifice; a sacrifice
without any embellishments or gadgets; a true sacrifice indeed.
For
this, my dear Noushad , you may not be entitled for any National Awards, you will
not be bestowed with the nation’s highest bravery awards, you may not be
decorated also with any kind of laurels’ or accolades…… but still you entered
that man-hole which turned out to be a death-hole.
Why, my dear Noushad , why?
Why can’t you become slightly more practical like us.
The
soldier who sacrifices his life at our boarders; we address him as Veer Jawan. His
mortal remains are consigned to flames or buried, with all state honors
including the ceremonial gun salute. But my dear friend Noushad when your
lifeless body had come out of that deadly man-hole, and arrived at your final
resting place, that was not honorably circled by any armored cars, nor any
gunshots fired towards the sky marking the nation’s respect to the departed.
Nobody
will compose any paeans venerating your valorous effort. But after all, there
will be a legion of common men and women, gathered around you with tear-filled
eyes. When they depart after putting a fist full of dust at your sacred resting
space they will salute you; with their open right palm; which made into a fist
will be of the size of their own heart.
I
realize that people of Noushad’s ilk were there in this world before also.
There were many who had thrown away their precious lives for others.
Immediately coming to mind is the saga of BP Moideen. To their ranks, as a
glowing torch or a never setting bright star; my dear Noushad you have ascended
to lead us, who are grouping in the dark.
I
believe that you are not dead; my dear Noushad. Your action was a kind of self
sacrifice. You entered that deadly man-hole with a benevolent mindset. You
emerged to do so, from the midst of a society, who; with the power of religion
and caste, with the power of name money and fame, with the power of politics
and realpolitik; are eagerly bearing there fangs to draw blood wherever and
whenever possible. When you took your last breath, In those darkened recess and
grimy waters, I am sure, my dear Noushad,
that you might have wondered “can’t we be humane”?
Hereafter,
my dear Noushad; during the days, nights, and twilights; while I stroll
along the roads of my beloved Kozhikkode city, your question will always
reverberate in my ears. I shall forget that melodious singer and that portly
friendly chef and I will be vainly trying to touch your hand. You know why? To
understand what exactly is Immortality!!
Nowshad, you are no more a mere name
for me. You are the one to fill my bosom with honesty humility and innocence;
one who can be pointed out proudly as a human indeed.
