3/2/2017 3:58:52 PM
|written By : Reema Abbasi|
There’s little that brings on grief like unfinished business. For the slain qawwal of renown, Amjad Sabri, multitudes know their reason for sorrow; very few mourn in struggle.
Is it the legacy? Or the brutal truth that this too was possible?
In all honesty, Amjad Sabri was not a patch on his father, Ghulam Farid Sabri, and on some other exponents of Sufi rendition. In fact, the latter’s is a shadow most qawwals and descendants will find hard to combat. However, Amjad was a man of heart and humility, which made his funeral easily the largest ever in Karachi.
Sabri Street in Karachi’s Liaquatabad mourned its pride and messiah, Amjad’s night cricket, his humour, his casual presence around pan shops, his life and the finality of this shock. In his home, a place of chalky simplicity, tears competed with the mileage of tragedy.
“We are very grateful to all those who have come to us but we still have not processed the magnitude of Amjad’s news. What lies ahead for his children, what is this vacuum?” said his sister-in-law.
She was clutching on to the late qawwal’s frail mother. A bony lady in white, Amjad’s mother was dry- eyed.
“Every Ramazan sharif, our home and locality would be abuzz with Amjad’s fervour. He wanted an open house at Sehri and Iftar, and the place was always crammed with well-wishers,” she said with eerie composure.
Sitting under a giant painting of the family’s icon, Ghulam Farid Sabri, she did not want to halt her memories.
“It is so strange that this Ramazan has been a quiet one. I was so restless but never shared my feelings with Amjad. He was also quieter and so busy. My son was not the same.