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The disturbed dreams - Part I
I was with my cardiologist after a long time. To my pleasure, the heart specialist liked Urdu poetry also. It proved once again when we were discussing about the future routines once it was sure that for the time being there was no fatal knock at my door. I was asking him about the disturbed sleep and how to get rid of it. Instantly, he pushed his fingers in his pocket and brought a chit on which had a couplet of the well-known poetess - Parveen Shakir. I'd recited before him when we had first met 12 years ago. It was:

"So Tum ne mera Suwagat usee tarah se Kiya,

Jo Afsaran-e-hukumat ke Etiquette me hai.

Takallufan mere Nazdik aa ke baith gaye.

Phir Ehtamam se Mousam ka haal cher Diya." 

(Verily, you accorded me a welcome that was in conformance with the etiquette of th government officers. As a token of courtesy you came and sat down near me. Then you broached the subject of weather gracefully.) 

My doctor had also fallen in love with Parveen Shakir like me. He told me to recite something she might have said about sleep. Though she had died long ago but thank God, I was ready with her thougths:

"Neend Jab Khwabon se Pyari ho to aisey Waqt men

Khwab dekhe koun aour Khwabon ke De Tabeer Koun."

When you love to prefer the sleep over the dream, who would see the dream and who would interpret the dream?)

Again the benign doctor wrote the couplet on a chit. In prescription he included the panacea for my sleep disorders. This night I enjoyed a proper sleep that was absent totally for two days. What did I saw in dream might be of some interest to Parveen Shakir also? 

Dreams are usually fragmented, disconnected, incoherent and illogical. They say these are all the reflections of the figments of imagination. Well, that may be or must be true. 

To my pleasure I saw Kabir Das Ji visiting my room in the hospital. He was crooning on his EK Tara as he made his entry: 

"Chalti Chakki dekh Diya Kabeera Roye

Do chakan ke Paat me Sabit Bacha no Koi."

{Kabir cried when he saw the rotating rollers of the wheat mill. No one had escaped unhurt between the two discs.)   

It was very uncomfortable for that moment. I told him that of course I'm an admirer of his dry humour but I have no plans like that for the time being. The reception desk might have misinformed him. 'May be you're looking someone in another room, another ward. I would appreciate if you could leave me alone. I'm already disturbed. Kabeer Das Ji glowered at me and favoured with his exit. 

But lo, somewhere from the sky heights Allama Eqbal entered the room adjusting his pen and Turkish Cap. He reached my bed and took my wrist in his hand. Looking straight into my eyes, he dropped a few tears from his cheeks and recited in Thet Punjabi Lehja:

"Mout to Zindagi ka Waqfa hai'

Yani aagey Badhen ge Dum Lekar."

(Death is an interregnum of the process of life. It means we would begin once again after a breath) 

I wrested and yanked away my wrist from Allama's grip and sat up bold straight.

"Allama, you know how much I love you, respect you, admire you and often quote what you has said that everyone appreciates but no one cares. However, Sir familiarity brings contempt. I'm afraid I did never deserve to be so near of you. I'm sure that beautiful receptionist of the hospital doesn't carry the beautiful brain. She is confusing the issues. I think you were destined to some other bed, another patient. May I request you to check once again the spiritual register of the hospital. Sir, please check it out and let me know. I shall take you to that room."

Willy nily Allama left the room. 

I can't recall if I was sleeping or well awake. However, in no time the great poet of Amroha, Late Safi Amrohvi Saheb issued forth into my room. I thought he was visit is proof that he still cared about my father who was a great admirer of Saifi Saheb. Most probably he had come to wish me speedy recovery. 

Sorry, it was not the case. The computers of Heaven seemed too infected with some Earthy Virus. Why they all were favouring my bed with the benign presence? Saifi Saheb recalled his friendship with my father. Offered me a glass of water, put his soft hand at my forehead and recited a couplet of his famous Gazal: 

"Teri Nigah ne Mehfil se Daf a tan Uth kar,

Kisi ka haal Bigada kisi ka Mustaqbil????"

(You raised your eyes and incidentally looked around. That cast of magic destroyed the present of someone and future of someone.) 

I don't know who was that lucky individual he had targeted but it was a comic relief away from all the hardships, trials and tribulations of hell that one could anticipate.

I got up and said 'Wah wah??.Waaaaaaaaaahhhh." Unfortunately, the part of my Wah was not yet over when Saifi Amrohvi Saheb recited the next couplet: 

"Kasha Kashey Ghum-e-Hasti azaab ho jata

Na hoti Mout agar Zindagi ka Mustaqbi." 

(The struggle and pathos of whole life would have become the curse if death were not the destiny of life.) 

I put a towel on my face and cried, I told him Uncle, Janab, I've no sign of entry of departure even from this room today. I'm sure that receptionist of the hospital is annoyed with me for some unknown reason. You are the friend of my father. I am sure you need rest. I would request my attendant to show the rest room?" 

He did gracefully make his exit with Dua (blessing). I think being an Amrohvi he was sympathetic to my plight. However, he was looking confused. 

I am little upset with Parveen Shakir why did she put so much emphasis on dreams in his couplet. I want sleep now and no silly dreams.

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