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Handsome Pukhtun from Karak called Pareshan
By Afzal
Hussain Bokhari
The last I saw him, Professor
Pareshan Khattak gave no signs of ill health. With well-combed
jet-black hair, he wore the flamboyant air of a final-year
university student. With a bracelet on his right and an
expensive watch on left arm, he was in a jogging track suit.
Coming back from an evening
stroll, he strayed into the residence of his friend Fazlullah
Fazli in Phase-III of Hayatabad where local writers and
art-lovers had assembled for the post-sunset monthly session of
the literary organisation ‘Takhleeq International’.
Except for osteoarthritis,
which was not unusual for a man at 77, he did not seem to carry
any other visible physical disorder.
Ignoring the synthetic mat
spread on the floor of Fazli’s basement, Pareshan Khattak
settled into a soft, comfortable chair.
Turning the chair slightly
towards ‘Qibla’ in the direction of Makkah to the west, he
raised his arms to touch the lobes of his ears and saying
‘Allah-o-Akbar’ started offering the ‘Maghreb’ (evening) prayer.
The participants waited for
Professor Khattak to finish the ‘Namaz-i-Maghreb’. I had not the
faintest idea that these were the last glimpses I was having of
the lovable Pukhtun intellectual. The sound of ‘Allah-o-Akbar’
that was heard in Fazli’s house was stimulating and inspiring
whereas the one heard in the sprawling phase one graveyard
saddened the ears on which it fell. Pareshan shocked his friends
by breathing his last on April 16.
The red rose-petals that
slipped from Pareshan’s shrouded dead body got stuck into the
blades of lush green grass. Silently announcing the arrival of
the spring, they seemed to mourn the sudden death of a
God-fearing man who used to come to this graveyard off and on to
mourn the similar deaths of near and dear ones.
Born on December 10, 1932 in
village Ghundi Mira Khankhel, district Karak, into the home of
Malik Muhammad Hassan, the real name of Pareshan Khattak was
Gham-i-Jan. Conscious probably of his physically being a
handsome man, he later liked to be called as ‘Pari-shan’
(carrying the resemblance of a fairy).
However, the non-Pukhtun
friends, colleagues and acquaintances all through his
77-year-long life randomly confused the name with the Urdu
adjective ‘pareshan’ which literally meant ‘the mentally
disturbed person’.
The mentally disturbed person
though he never was except for the brief spell of life some
years back during which he learnt that in an allegedly domestic
brawl his daughter reportedly got murdered while being with her
otherwise influential parents-in-law.
As an intellectual, Pareshan
had many facets to his personality. The holder of Master’s
degrees in History and Pushto literature, the common reader, for
instance, knew him as a romantic poet, research scholar,
translator, manipulative academic, successful administrator and
an untiring speaker.
The untiring speaker he
certainly was though others of his qualities were overtly or
covertly doubted, debated and even challenged by various shrewd
critics of varying caliber.
At one time, his admirers
turned him into a sitting duck for book launching ceremonies.
He usually spoke in a
long-winded manner, blending History with Geography and fact
with fiction that depending on the public mood variously pleased
or displeased the audience.
The proud author of about 10
publications, Pareshan left behind the book lovers that reached
out for their purse when they noticed the first collection of
Pareshan’s poetry titled ‘Tarranake’ or the more intriguingly
named prose work ‘Pushtun Kaun’.
Although he was generally a
friendly person but Mir Mehdi Shah Mehdi and Hamesh Khalil got
on well with him.
Amazing as the attitude of the
friends and foes was, Pareshan was flattered or flayed by the
measure of favours that he showered or withheld when working on
key posts.
Apart from being the chairman
of the former University Grants Commission, he remained the head
of the Academy of Letters, Islamabad and the vice-chancellor
first of the Gomal University, Dera Ismail Khan and then the
Azad Kashmir University, Muzaffarabad.
During the days of General
Ziaul Haq, he rubbed shoulders with the high and the mighty of
the land.
At one time, he worked as the
advisor to the prime minister of Azad Jammu and Kashmir.
Immediately after that he founded the Al-Khair University in the
private sector.
Due to rush for admissions to
this university, there was a crisis of management at various
levels.
Partly due to the management
crisis but chiefly due to the machinations of the professional
rivals in the field of education, the Higher Education
Commission started receiving complaints against the Al-Khair
University with the result that the HEC had to order the closure
in some cities of a few of the Al-Khair branches for not having
the required facilities.
It is a pity that Pareshan has
faded into history with what appears to be indecent haste. One
is left with very few people to show to the outer world that can
be called the true representatives of the Frontier province.
Farigh Bokhari, Raza Hamadani,
Khatir Ghazanavi and Ahmad Faraz were the kind of writers with
whom the outside world associated the province.
One feels oddly awkward in
bracketing them together but NWFP in general and Pushto
literature in particular has been left poorer by the
disappearance from the literary landscape of figures like Amir
Hamza Khan Shinwari, Ghani Khan, Qalandar Momand and now
Pareshan Khattak.
One prays for the health and a
long life of men like Ajmal Khattak, Senator Afrasiab Khattak,
Saleem Raz, Rehmat Shah Sail and many others who are still
around and serving the cause of literature as well as revolution
in the manner they think is pragmatic or expedient.
The admirers of Pareshan
rightly expect that his sons Dr Javed Khattak, Major Khushal
Khattak, Professor Shahbaz Khattak and Behlul Khattak will
probably join hands and will piece together the unpublished
works of their late father and bring them out in book form.
More humble and down to earth
brother of Pareshan’s, Purdil Khan Khattak can help and guide
four of his otherwise capable nephews in doing this work. |