Hussain Abid. One evening in early 2014, I was sitting the desk in newsroom in Lahore, chatting with my colleagues getting down to work. Irfan Aslam, a and friend, remained aloof, absorbed in a book with the title Qehqaha Insan Ney Ijad Kiya facing us. A senior colleague, intrigued, took the book from his hands. leafing a few pages the colleague handed the book back to Aslam and said: “Poetry es trah di hun di ay ” (This is what poetry should be .) A qehqha (a loud laughter) emerged out of Aslam’s mouth. I took the book and read some poems. It was my introduction to Hussain Abid. The book, co- with Masood Qamar and the Javed Anwar, had the taste of postmodern poetry, with meaning breaking down and a certain aesthetics peeling off the poem as it started suddenly, went down a little and then just ended; leaving the reader wondering: what was it? I befriended Hussain Abid on Facebook and the first poem I read on his wall was: Trained to sum up my reactions to creative expressions in an often clichéd diction, I commented with disdain and […]

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