There was a mad poet one day, walking down the street.
You were passing by in your signature bare footed state.
He was working in mind,
You were working on his mind.
Hussain Saab, you were simply great.
Hoardings you painted at time,
You had no time, still & in wait.
Something,somewhat, but what was what.
Ouch! still is ongoing debate.
You went ahead,forth always at every stage.
Beyond clocked times.
Much ahead of time.
Many a times, I have sat sipping my tea and remembering you:
even after you had gained immense name & fame, you would be found sitting at the ‘Nukkadwala Chaiwala’ sipping his humble tea, smilingly.
Passion would consummate you when you would see an empty canvas,
Canvas could be any, as unconventional as that could be.
Hussain Saab, what if I bump into you?
In my imagination.
We could talk hours & hours,
over and over.
What else can I wish today?
For you today?
Except ‘Affection’ & ‘Love’.
Do think it over, my proposal? Walk into my thoughts.
Legends are born, gone but never gone. They become the ‘wind, the aasmaan.’
We can always touch them as an invisible and abstract.
Hussain Saab has never gone anywhere but in hearts of the hearts.
He is just ‘comfortable’.
We all are feeling him still.
Our depth and steep emotions in which he lives.