And without the slightest wisp of expectation or knowledge, the rising sun of 16th Ramadhan, 22nd June 2016, brought us the painfully melancholic news of Amjad Sabri’s death. It is 10:30 pm as I write this, almost 7 hours from when he was shot 6-7 bullets in his car, as he set out with his friends to recite Qawwali in some Iftaar transmission. The hospital and doctors couldn’t outdo the work done by the target killer and Amjad Sabri bravely breathed his last while still in hospital.
I am unable to put my words in the right order. To be honest, I simply can not think straight. His Qawwalis and other Sufi works are continuously ringing in my head, one mixing with the other, jamming the thinking process and constantly interrupting with what I have to write over here. I do not exactly know how to describe this, but as a feeble attempt, it feels as if grief has broken itself down in a million heavy pieces and they just float. Suspended in the air, moving about in their place in slow motion but never leaving their course. Needless to mention all the crying eyes cameras captured on t.v, all the condescending comments, comments of acclamation. Comments about hell and heaven the killer and Sir Sabri would go to respectively. Comments on the investigation agency of Pakistan, the law and order, the terrorists. Everything.
Honestly this is a moment when much can’t be discussed, much can’t be said because even though this is not coming from a huge fan of Amjad Sabri, the pain is too real and nothing would be enough. And more than just a feeling of sheer loss, this is simply depressing because of its abruptness. How unknowingly, how sharply and suddenly a happy, living, breathing man came back in a coffin to his family. Not that this notion has any novelty, specially in my country, but it still makes me brood. All I can say is that yes I cried. The moment called for it. I heartily suggest others to do so too if they have been suppressing the urge to cry. Death is something created to mourn about. Not for too long but definitely for a short amount of time. However the saltiness of my tears was lesser for the one whom I believe to have gone straight to heaven, and more for the ones left behind. His family. I prayed for them. I request all of you to do so too. May Allah rest his soul in peace and grant supreme patience to his family members. At the end I would like to add some stirring words by some other blogger which made me feel better:
“People like you thrive in the hearts of millions.
Your love for the Lord instilled your love in our hearts.
You are too big a legend to be defeated by death, for as long as we live your words will reverberate through out hearts.
For as long as we live, our prayers will be directed at your soul. We may not have met in the streets of this world, but I pray that one day we meet in the streets of Jannah.”