Belated Thanks, Janaab No-name

It was sometime in 1954 in Berlin, that I met this person in a shop. I do not remember his name, but one look at each other was enough to convince us that we both belonged to the Indian subcontinent.

We started chatting, surprisingly not in our common Urdu or Hindi, but in German, a foreign language which we were fluent in! He was holding a small book in his hand – Omar Khayyam’s Rubayyat – in German. I had heard about Omar Khayyam, but had never read the English translation as I disliked that language then. He praised Omar Khayyam no end and out of curiosity I just skimmed through the book. I was certainly impressed and made it a point to buy it the very next day. After exchanging pleasantries we bade each other goodbye, never to meet again. I read and reread that tiny booklet and even quoted some verse to my German friends who were very pleased. That tiny booklet opened new frontiers for me in literature. Recently, the same book again fell into my hands and took me back down memory lane.

Yes, I have yet to thank that Pakistani acquaintance for the treasure trove. I hope he is happy and doing well.

Salaam, wherever you may be, sir!


25 thoughts on “Belated Thanks, Janaab No-name

  1. I came across this wonderful little book after my mum died, amongst her most treasured possessions.. Few had any monetary value and yet clearly they had meant so much to her… This one has now become one of my treasured possessions and sits beside my bed to remind me of the values contained within – I read it often and it always makes me cry. I don’t normally link back to my own posts but I thought you may be interested in the post I wrote about this book – I hope you don’t mind..

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Reblogged this on BRILLIANCE WITHIN and commented:
    I came across this post today. This little tiny book The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, holds a special place in my heart. I found it amongst my mum’s precious possessions – not valuable in monetary terms but worth it’s weight in gold…. I wrote a post a while back with an English translation exert from the poem, which was originally written in Persian in the 11th Century. I cry when I read it and when I read it for the first time, I realised that my parents had followed the ethos contained within those pages, throughout their lives. It now sits beside my bed as a daily reminder and I pick it up often to read… It now holds a precious place in my heart too…

    Liked by 1 person

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