There she was, the high priestess of love, frail and all wizened with age, but the eyes still twinkled as she asked me this girlie question reminiscent of the many heart-to-heart talks over some thirty odd years. This was Amrita Pritam, of course, the grande dame of Punjabi letters, who nurtured some two generations of Punjabi writers, and was friend and confidante to many.
A Love Story, of the following conversation involving Sahir and her: She was at this time married to Pritam Singh, who was an editor, but theirs was not the best of marriages. Amrita, in her mid-twenties at the time, had come to Preet Nagar to attend a mushaira which was being attended Amrita pritam Punjabi and Urdu poets.
It was here that she saw and heard Sahir for the first time. She was immediately smitten by him. The mushaira ended only after midnight following which the guests bid goodbye to each other.
The next morning they were supposed to go to the neighbouring township of Lopoki, from where a bus had been organized to take them back to Lahore. However, the following morning they discovered that it had rained the previous night and the road they had to take to reach Lopoki had been rendered slippery and hazardous.
Apparently, the sky had turned cloudy during the mushaira itself and it had started drizzling by the time the mushaira had drawn to a close. It was in these circumstances that Amrita experienced her love blossoming for Sahir.
Walking at some distance from Sahir, I noticed that where his shadow was falling on the ground, I was being engulfed by it entirely. Over the course of attending several such mushairas, the acquaintance between the two grew into a mutual affection.
It was by all reckoning a most unusual relationship. The two hardly ever spoke to each other, preferring instead to let silence define their association. And the other was language. I wrote poetry in Punjabi, Sahir in Urdu.
When Sahir would come to meet me in Lahore, it was as if an extension of my silence had occupied the adjacent chair and then gone away. He would quietly smoke his cigarettes, putting out each after having finished only half of it. He would then light a new cigarette. After he would leave, the room would be full of his unfinished cigarettes.
I would keep these remaining cigarettes carefully in the cupboard after he left. I would only light them while sitting alone by myself. When I would hold one of these cigarettes between my fingers, I would feel as if I was touching his hands. This is how I took to smoking.Amrita Pritam.
Oil on canvas by PROKASH KARMAKAR. I will meet you yet again How and where I know not Perhaps I will become a figment of your imagination and maybe spreading myself in a mysterious line on your canvas I will keep gazing at you.
Perhaps I will become a ray. This shopping feature will continue to load items. In order to navigate out of this carousel please use your heading shortcut key to navigate to the next or previous heading. Based on Amrita Pritam’s story of the same name, the play was directed by Seema Sharma.
It was presented wonderfully by Himachal Sanskritik Shodh Sansthan Evam Rangmandal Mandi in folk style. Ajj Aakhaan Waris Shah Nu (English: "Today I Invoke Waris Shah" or "I Say Unto Waris Shah", Punjabi: اَج آکھاں وارث شاہ نُوں , ਅੱਜ ਆਖਾਂ ਵਾਰਸ ਸ਼ਾਹ ਨੂੰ) is a famous dirge by the renowned Punjabi writer and poet Amrita Pritam () about the horrors of the partition of the Punjab during the Partition of India.
Title: The weed Author: Amrita Pritam Genre: Short Story Author: Amrita Pritam, a poet, essayist, and novelist, is one of the most prominent women writers in Indian timberdesignmag.com poem Ode to Waris Shah and the novel Pinjar are often talked of as her masterpieces and both express her anguish over post-partition tribulations and massacres.
Pinjar by Amrita Pritam. Hind Pocket Books Pvt.
Ltd, First edition. Softcover. New. Pinjar, written by Amrita Pritam, is set against the backdrop of Partition of India. This Hindi book was originally a Punjabi novel. It has been translated into several languages, including Khushwant Singhâ€™s translation into .