In the post-Iqbal era of Urdu poetry there are few greater poets than Majeed Amjad (this is a link to a short bio of him in Wikipedia that I wrote and I would love readers familiar with his work to add to it).
Yet, he may also be amongst the most under-recognized and under-appreciated of our great poets.Even amongst the lovers of Urdu poetry his name is least likely to be recognized.
Reading Majeed Amjad’s magnificent poetry I have often wondered how it is that some literary reputations get created from meager contributions but some people forever struggle to gain just acclaim.
In Majeed Amjad’s case I think it was a confluence of factors: he was a quiet, reserved introvert with no inclination for self-marketing. He lived away from the literary center of Lahore in small Punjabi towns like Sahiwal and Jhang and never had many influential advocates of his literary merits.
But, perhaps more importantly, Majeed Amjad was not an ideological poet affiliated with one or the other group of literary luminaries who could beat their partisan drums on his behalf (Progressive Writers Movement managed to turn everyone who knew the words ‘mazdoor’ or ‘kisan’ into literary giants).
One fine morning in 1981, our class teacher called in sick. Few students shed crocodile tears and a substitute teacher was sent in by the office to take class teacher’s place for the day. As substitute teachers sometimes do, he was doing anything but teach. He asked our class if anyone knew any jokes. My friend Nauroze Rahimtoola Panjwani immediately stood up and with a flat face told us this joke. I kid you not, it felt so funny that for next five minutes many of us were holding our stomachs and laughing so hard that headmistress had to come in to check on our class. In ‘naujawaani’ (youth), a person laughs a lot anyways – without any reason – and for any excuse, but this joke still makes me smile. Let me try it on you.
