He was ill for some time. When we thought we had lost him , he went to the hospital and came right back, got back to his work- running the theater(naya theater) as also writing his autobiography which was really taking a lot of his time. But soon he fell ill again and this time he went to the hospital and then came the news. Habib Tanvir was no more.
I last saw him in Raipur and Shalini had met him as the shoot for 'Peepli Live' ended, before returning from Bhopal. It was time to be with the theater and Nageen. We reached there the next morning. The mood of the house was sombre. There were a lot of other friends from Delhi and Mumbai.
The dead body - as that is what it is called because life it belonged to is not present anymore- was the remnant of the person we knew as Habib Tanvir. It was a reminder of the association we had established with him, the association of respect and affection- by working with him, traveling with him and learning from him, through countless conversations and meals we had shared in that small apartment of his, sitting around that dining table where he took his time over the meals as he made his phone calls, talked to people - meals were always the time when he would be doing his organizational work. So, the memories came back and tears welled up but Habib Tanvir would not let you just cry, even in his death he would create something that would force you to laugh or at least smile. And how could life's ironies miss Habib Tanvir in his death- a man who played on these very ironies of life.
The body was taken for burial to an old part of Bhopal where the 'kabristan' exists. A small lane, suddenly to its surprise was inundated with vehicles of all kinds. Well, he was not a political leader, nor a film star or industrialist, but then he was one of the best known theater personalities of our times- or rather the previous five or six decades, he had numerous friends and then he was also an ex member of parliament and had received a 'padma bhushan' from the government of India.
Habib Tanvir never participated in any religious ceremonies related to Islam. Rather he only had disdain for any organized religious practice. As a part of living culture he did participate in religious activities- the pageantry of rituals, ceremonies and celebrations attracted him. He had an eye for aesthetics. Several times he would be found giving detailed observations on the beauty of idols of goddess kali while he worked on 'Raj Rakta'. But I never saw him perform 'namaz' or do a 'pooja'. Gods didn't matter much to him. I don't know how the gods feel about him. I don't know if he did believe in after life or supreme power but it never came up for discussion.
However, Islam reclaimed him or should I say his dead body, he came into this world bound with the religion and now he had to say goodbye similarly bound to the religion- so what if he did what he did in the intervening period and most of it was in opposition to what the religion demanded of him. To be buried he could not claim to be an atheist. And then he wasn't there to protest, he was dead. Maybe while watching all the drama around ,what should otherwise have been a simple last ritual- in his case a burial- he would probably be laughing- 'kambakht zinda to mujhe mazhabi nahin bana sake…ab mere janaaje ka kuch bhi karein' or he could be thinking - they should have allowed me my dignity in burying my dead body in accordance to the life I have lived. But that was not to be.
So, his body was kept in a building, some rituals were performed, some people became heroes in his death- got photographs clicked with the dead body!(which later got published in the news papers) as they controlled the whole process- I think he himself would have called it a 'tamasha'. And then his body was taken to the graveyard where his wife- otherwise a Hindu(or maybe I should say born a Hindu married to a muslim, although frankly both of them lived in a way that they cannot be tagged with a religious identity)- Moneeka Misra Tanvir lay buried. His body was granted a grave next to hers.
There was a huge crowd as there was police. (Police somehow never left his side- always followed him, mostly against him- stopping him from doing plays like 'ponga pandit',though in 'Charandas Chor', he played the role of a police havildar)Some people from the naya theater were trying to take a last look at the body of the person whom they had spent a life time with ,but were being denied and pushed by the crowd( I can vouch that very few of those who were there in the crowd ever turned up to watch his plays, but then this drama was absolutely free, and it was death, it could not be missed. Death sells. ) As the theater people tried to get a last look, some of them stepped on other graves only to be rebuked by a police constable , a hindu by name, who said - 'at least let them lie in peace and dignity , the ones who are dead'. Rather interesting , the veneration towards the dead cuts across all religions and sections of society in India and maybe across the world. The one who had died had to be given dignity. In a way a good thought but if you turn it around then quite absurd. Without life - a body is to be respected, why? And when they are alive- they can be treated any which way and sometimes even be killed - with their lives stolen they can be turned into being dead. Why?
Irony ended, came in the farce. Because of his 'padma bhushan' he was to be given a gun salute. Now, there seems to be a gun salute unit with the local police. I don't know much about guns but these guns seemed to be some very archaic ones. I don't know what these gun salute unit people do in rest of their time- imagine if it is your job to wait for someone to die in whose respect you would be expected to fire a gun! Okay, so a country has the right to make a noise when someone important dies! Let the others know that someone we rewarded has died. Yeah, sure, go do that, great gesture. Waste the poor gun salute unit constable's life in wait and sure let the important person be respected when he would not even register it. Appropriate if a soldier dies. Yes, the gun salute is the most suitable thing to do. That is what the soldier did, that was his instrument as she/he performed her/his duty, protected the territory and people of the country from its enemies. Yes, the ones left behind can express their respect for the ones who gave their lives- the comrades who had died in doing what they were trained to do. Yes, for a soldier, by all means a gun salute is a must, yes the ceremonial bugle and the salute and the congregation all makes sense. But for a theater artist , a gun salute? Well, absurdity has a place in an artist's life and death.
But the poor gun salute unit lying in disuse for a long time had their leap year moment now. I mean how many important people can die in Bhopal in a year? They barely die. Apologies for being a little crude but the important people don't die even when a tragedy like the gas leak from a Union Carbide plant in Bhopal takes place and kills thousands.
So, suddenly the unit is woken up and asked to perform. They are all readied. The guns are loaded. Their DIG is a friend who held Habib Tanvir in great regard, so he is also present. They all stand. Calls of order are made. The guns are fired. Two(or were there four of them? so three) guns fire in unison and the third one failed to fire. The constable holding it struggled very hard to make it go. The leader(the person who was giving commands) was embarrassed as he looked at the constable. The constable tried harder. The leader looked at the DIG who looked away ignoring the whole damn thing. The leader waited but the gun refused to fire. The gun salute unit remained in a pregnant pause. The dead body of the great man they were supposed to be paying the nation's last respects, lied there waiting for the pause to end.
And the poor constable struggled with his gun and struggled with his gun and continued to struggle with his gun. He could not let the moment go. Imagine you are called to do your duty once in two years ( if you are lucky)and then at the critical moment you fail to do it, that too in front of your senior officer! The poor man fought with the gun…by now, the leader had decided that this gun is not going to fire and he started making call of order for the next salute. And 'bam' goes the gun…leading to another pause...- the truant constable had to reload as fast as possible- all panicky the poor fellow reloaded the gun in time- feeling nice and happy that this time it is going to go on time, the leader sighed - called order again…it was time for the guns to go…everyone waited and watched…no, the gun salute unit did not disappoint…one gun, the same gun missed the cue…bad actor... but …if things were perfect then there would be no drama…so, as if Habib Tanvir himself as the Shakespearan 'puck' remaining invisible played a trick once again on the poor constable. The constable pulled the trigger with the rest of them but the gun true to its own character - fired late. It had to. It was the gun salute to Habib Tanvir!
It was the man's parting gift to me. This was life. He had died but this was a reminder to keep looking for the drama around, and if you learnt to do that in your saddest moments, you will learn to smile. I think of the burial and I find a reason to smile imagining a mischievous look on the face of the person whose body was being buried. My mentor and friend- Habib Tanvir
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