Nasir Mirza
I thought he would get well soon. He had responded to the treatment initially. Doctors were all praise for him and he was all praise for the doctors! But destiny had something else in store for him. In the second phase when he was being operated upon, the reporter in him overheard the doctors talking about him- the patient lying on the operation table in a Mumbai hospital and that changed everything for him forever.
He himself did not know till then that he was so unwell. It was heart breaking news indeed.
The person in white apron was his favorite character when he was a young student and at one point he had aspired to become a doctor but now it was no more a likeable sight for him. The well-trained caring communicator did not approve the careless talk.
He knew it fully well that one stone is enough to break a glass and one sentence is enough to break a heart! Doctors tried to convince him but the message had reached the recipient. We cannot change the inevitable; he had seen the writing on the wall.
Three days before his death, I along with some colleagues went to see my taught Izhar A Wani at SKIMS ward three. He looked calm but was surprisingly very quiet. We tried to make him speak but he didn’t open his eyes though he was not in deep sleep. There was some little movement of his eyelids. We felt that he is trying to open his eyes but then it seemed he preferred not to be engaged with the worldly sights anymore.
Obviously he had his eyes fixed on a better place than this, better companions than us, evidently he knew he is about to leave for his heavenly abode. I was reminded of a verse of Holy Quran: ‘Wa Tabatal Ilaihi Tabteela’. Allah asks the pious ones to take Him as a friend and none else. Take Him alone and leave the rest, seemed to be the message that he was following.
We noticed his lip movement but no words were audible. I thought he was talking to someone else other than the people surrounding his bed. A day after he passed away, his father told me,” Izhar had a peaceful departure! ”
Gentle journalist
Izhar was a star; an alumnus of Media Education Research Centre (MERC). In the class of batch 1987-89, he was a class apart! Ever smiling, always gentle, highly talented. Izhar was a definition of good journalism. He had a strong commitment to fundamentals of the sacred profession. During his twenty-year eventful career, he worked for reputed local, national and international news organizations. As the Bureau Chief of AFP he carved a niche for himself in the highly competitive world of media.
He was undoubtedly one of the prominent and promising figures on the crowded canvas of media in Kashmir. He added a new dimension to conflict reporting. He exhibited courage and commitment and maintained his integrity as an honest journalist. He was one of the most affable ones in the journalists’ tribe.
Izhar was blessed with the qualities of head and heart. Once during the turbulent times, in mid 90’s, I visited his office. There were some barricades and he had closed the main entrance to his office and a small side door was being used but as I approached his office he ordered his subordinates to open the main door. I told him not to take the trouble, but he insisted and told me that he had all respect for teachers.
Hour of grief
While mourning his sudden departure, I salute the grace with which his family especially his revered father faced this hour of grief. He used to recite verse of holy Quran during nights to console the ailing son who was in Iqbal’s words ‘Qabile ki aankh ka taara’, a darling of all.
Izhar will be remembered for his gentle nature, his well-mannered disposition, his insightful reportage, and for his exemplary dedication to the profession. He was indeed a source of inspiration and would continue to inspire the younger generation.
I feel while bidding adieu, the journalist in him was asking the question: Should the end come so soon? May Allah bless his soul! Aameen.
The writer is Senior Faculty at Media Education Research Centre, University of Kashmir and can be mailed at ennmirza@gmail.com