It was one of the coldest days of a white winter. Some thirty five kilometers away from the provincial capital, Atta was the chief guest at a household banquet. We, few friends or you may say, pupils, accompanied him. As time progressed a heated literary discussion began. A delayed meal allowed us to get more of his vibrant literary insight, full of wit and wisdom.
Those who knew Ata well were convinced that he was exceptionally gifted with intellect, creativity and a good aesthetic sense. While speaking, his talk-material always carried freshness. Besides, like a skillful architect he put forth novel thoughts and therefore, none got tired to listen. Explaining how he based his literary expressions on cultural tradition, he quoted a number of instances where his source of inspiration was either a Balochi idiom or a proverb. He highlighted the rich element of drama in Balochi classical poetry and said he had been swimming against the tide.
As he put that “I have taken the element of poetry into drama”. And then laughingly added “I was burning like a cigarette at both ends…I mean sometime putting poetry into drama and some time drama into poetry”. He further added “whether me or the classical Baloch poets, all had been deeply indoctrinated by culture”.
Sharing his experiences of visits to Australia and United States, he maintained that it was the strength of the Aborigines and the Red Indians’ folklore that made their survival possible despite ruthlessly pursued elimination-drives undertaken by the whites. He recalled some of his intellectual encounters with native writers who, as he put that “were creating poetry for their land and people, upholding their folklore and placing history in proper perspective”. “My work is no different…my cultural context is the engine that carries my thought process forward”, confessed Atta.
I enjoyed the talk and by the time he finished, I discovered a new Atta, the “poet-anthropologist”. Since then while reading him I use to look for the cultural bed-rock on which he firmed the foundation of his admirable fascinating poetry. Maybe, someday some one will come up with a title on Atta from that perspective.
Since my college days we were working closely with Atta by participating in radio plays either written or produced by him. Then Radio was the hub of intellectual and literary activities. I learnt a lot from him in my student life. Then he left Radio and joined Information. After completing my university education from Karachi I joined Atta as his subordinate in Information Department.
It was my first job and there also I had the opportunity to learn f rom him. By then he was a recognized poet of the country but was down to earth, straight forward, simple and free of complexes. He was also revered by rural masses through his Balochi poetry and as “Nako Lashku”, the popular character of radio
talk-show. I remember while in village the common people used to enquire “how was Lushko”?
The best chance for me to interact with Baloch intellectuals including Atta was the 3- consecutive terms spread over nine years when I served as the elected general secretary of Balochi Academy. During that period I had ample opportunities to work with Ata for promotion of Balochi language and literature.
The next occasion of working closely with him came up when he was Secretary Information, Culture and Sports and I joined him as Director Public Relations. The entire atmosphere of his office used to be very educative. Whenever I went to see him I always found literary figures discussing literature, culture or new books. I remember one day one of his fans, a lady from some other province had come to visit him. Atta was reciting his latest poems and receiving appreciations profusely from all including her. Later on while Atta was away for
the wash room the lady said, “It is irony that you Balochis don’t comprehend the true literary stature of Ata Shad, maybe, your coming generations will do it better, but then it will be too late”. It is already too late. Ata is dead. Many years have passed but I am yet to convince myself …… can Ata die? For an answer I turn to a brief dialogue between Mark Twin and his mother. After acquiring fame for his writings once Mark Twin asked her “Mother, what you thought about me earlier and what do you think about me now? His mother replied, “My son earlier I feared you would die, And now I fear you will never die”.