Since Arrival had such unique plot elements and involved many scientific and linguistic details, it was clearly the work of a serious and thoughtful author. It made perfect sense when I discovered, while reading more about the movie, that it was based off a short story by a prominent science fiction writer, Ted Chiang. As someone interested in languages, I appreciated the substantial time it gave to just solving the linguistic problem of communicating with extraterrestrials in the first place.
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The movie keeps you in suspense throughout and makes you think deeply even long after it’s over. Recently, I watched the movie Arrival (released in 2016) and was impressed by its philosophical profundity and intellectual portrayal of first contact with aliens. The rest of the things are at Amritsar which I shall manage to get soon. Anyhow I reached here with some luggage, arms and one bedding. I had a troublesome journey & that too by stages. My wife & children have been happy to receive me. I would like to die in Pakistan than to live in India shall it be possible. I am unhappy to be separated from you & other friends. The part which Begum Sahiba played was noble. I can’t thank you sufficiently for all you so willingly & gladly did for me.
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I’ve written a longer article analyzing the letter and what I think it means for Indians and Pakistanis today, which can be read both in the Indian publication The Quint and in the Pakistani publication The Express Tribune.īelow is the full text of the letter, along with scans of the front and back of the original document: It is a really interesting primary source that gives insight into the pain and grief that those who had to leave their lives and homes behind felt at the time. Khanna, who had to flee from Lahore to Delhi. The letter was sent to him on Octoin the aftermath of the partition of British India by his Hindu friend Diwan C. The second poem is an excerpt from In the Bazaar of Love translated from the Persian - ‘Praise for Nizamuddin Auliya’.In a recent trip to our family home, my mom rediscovered an old postcard addressed to my great-grandfather, Mohammad Ali Mirza. This story is elaborated by the awesome storyteller Ankit Chadha, in the early part of this lovely mix of dastangoi and musical interludes that illustrates Khusrau’s life. But there is an interesting fable around Rang, conflated with the first time Khusrao is said to have met his Pir, who heard his call, his quest for a companion in the mystic journey. Look on the english version, then like a short accompaniment perhaps. The original, of course, musically rendered stays in the mind. by Paul E Losensky & Sunil Sharma, Penguin. The first is Rang, with a translation from In the Bazaar of Love: The Selected Poetry of Amir Khusrau, trans. So here are two poems by Amir Khusrau, both with Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya - his pir, mursheed, guru, beloved - at the centre. But for now do read Raju Tai’s Coke Studio Pakistan: Songs from another country that exemplies this spirit of joy I speak about, and a very early poem shared on Poetly - before the newsletter even existed). There is so much warmth and togetherness in these moments, much like the youtube comments sections of exceptional coke studio songs! (I have been contemplating sharing a couple here for some time, and will for sure, when the time is right. I am a sucker for these heartwarming experiences of community, celebration, faith, music and good food. I think of Nizamuddin, just a few metres from where I live, of the qawwalis, and the ever present air of shelter - I think of how tired bodies and lost souls have found refuge in the open armed warm embrace of the pir for years. As the festive buzz of the streets outside the historic Masjid fill my mind’s eye, I remember, also, Muhammad Ali Road in Bombay turning into a galaxy of celestial lights orbiting slowly around people milling around eateries and gift shops leaving stardust trails. Visions of Khoye ke Jalebi, Burra, Sheermal, Kheer Sevai and other delicious Eid specials on the street beside Jama Masjid in Delhi distract me.
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