Daily Times
May 2, 2021
Those were the days of sullen, stupefying silence and despair for the Left, the apocalyptical signs of the Soviet Union’s meltdown were evident. Dizzy heads, bruised hearts, sorrow-scorched bosoms, and unfathomable grief ailed the Marxists. Struggles of decades and sacrifices of millions looked meaningless, and dreams of a better and just world were killed, hope was slain. It was the holocaust of time. Borrowing an expression from Faiz, “the hour was the moment of mourning”.
On that sombre evening, a public gathering was held in the City Council hall, graced by Mr IA Rehman and Mr Nisar Osmani, two giants of the era. When the curtain on the meeting was almost drawn, a young man’s itch unsettled him. He sought permission to be on the stage to pay homage to the glory of the workers’ state in death throes. Silence prevailed, finding the sages in two minds, he went up the stage. His English poem or whatever hammered Gorbachev and his Perestroika. Once he finished the hall erupted in applause, the message went across.