Aitbaar Sajid: Poet Who Turned Pain Into Timeless Urdu Verses

Born on 1 July 1948, in Multan’s scorching lanes, Aitbaar Sajid arrived in a world where poetry flowed through evening gatherings, and words carried the weight of centuries. Punjab’s soil cradled this boy whose eyes held galaxies and whose heart carried melodies waiting to escape. His family knew modest means, but they could not have imagined that their son would one day voice the silent aches of millions through verses that pierce straight through pretence into raw human emotion.

Those early years in Multan, later shifting to Sargodha, planted seeds that would blossom into ghazals recited across borders. Imagine a child walking barefoot through fields, picking up rhythms from the wind, storing them like treasures for future mushairas. Poverty marked his childhood with harsh lessons, yet within that struggle grew a determination that would define his entire journey. Stories say he once stood beneath a banyan tree, making a solemn promise to his own reflection that his words would someday heal wounds the world preferred to hide.

Friends from those days recall a boy who found music in rejection, who turned every closed door into an open verse. The 1980s mushairas saw him emerge as the poet with a voice that made audiences hold their breath, a handsome face illuminated by dim lights, weaving magic that young admirers waited for with beating hearts. Behind that charm lived a man who knew hunger intimately, who understood how heartbreak tastes, whose family migrations from Multan to Rawalpindi taught him that roots matter less than the strength to grow anywhere.

Teaching at H-9 College in Islamabad, he secretly mentored struggling students, slipping them poems that ignited their own creative fires, proving that greatness shares itself quietly. His debut collection arrived in 2002 after years of patient waiting, but the journey there tested every ounce of his resolve.

The Fields and Floods That Forged a Voice

Multan’s heat shaped young Aitbaar in ways textbooks never capture. Picture 1952, possibly Sargodha too, where a small boy chased kites across open fields, each soaring paper bird representing freedoms he yearned to grasp. His home held no luxuries, just parents who worked under merciless sun while their son dreamed in corners, scribbling verses on whatever scraps he could find. One tale rarely told involves a village fair where floodwaters swallowed his only notebook of poems.

He sat by that river weeping, then did something remarkable. He rewrote every single verse from memory, each one fiercer and deeper than before. That moment revealed the poet he would become, someone who transformed loss into creative fuel. School days brought mixed blessings as classmates ridiculed his poetic ambitions. At the same time, perceptive teachers recognised genuine talent and pushed him toward mushairas, where his voice initially trembled before learning to soar.

Frequent family relocations in pursuit of a basic livelihood left him feeling rootless, drifting like clouds without an anchor, yet poetry provided the stability that external circumstances denied him. He would hide in quiet corners, capturing observations about lost kites that mirrored lost loves, crafting ghazals born of adolescent heartbreak over a neighbour’s fleeting smile. As a teenager, he worked odd jobs, including dawn milk deliveries, and he later joked about whispering verses to cows, claiming it taught him patience for life’s many disappointments.

The first time a mushaira crowd applauded his poem, tears mixed with clapping hands, offering validation sweeter than any dessert. But rejections from magazines followed, and family pressure mounted to pursue a “real job” instead of chasing poetic dreams. He resisted, converting pain into power, eventually becoming both a professor and a broadcaster who bridged classical forms with contemporary audiences. He credited his mother’s lullabies for his distinctive tarannum, the musical recitation style that melts listeners’ hearts.

Heartbreak’s Harvest and Love’s Cruel Lessons

Love struck Aitbaar not with a gentle romance but with a consuming wildfire that reduced everything to ash before birthing verses that still make audiences weep decades later. During his youth, romances bloomed and withered, leaving scars that became art. One untold night saw him waiting in pouring rain for a beloved who never appeared, and from that drenched despair came “Mere khat mujhe wapis kar,” a verse that achieved legendary status.

Struggles compounded as partition’s echoes reverberated through personal losses, family members departing like monsoon clouds gathering darkness. Yet, he channelled anguish into ghazals like “Jo khayal thay nah qayas thay, wohi log mujh se bichad gaye.” The emotional landscape shifted constantly between mushaira stardom in the 1980s, when young men idolised his charisma and voice reminiscent of honeyed sitar strings, and profound solitude that made him question whether love merely disguised itself as a thief stealing joy.

His radio scripting work allowed him to weave personal suffering into broadcasts reaching remote villages, healing listeners while gradually mending his own fractured spirit. Collections poured forth, including “Wahi Ek Zakhm Gulab Sa” and “Tumhain Kitna Chahtey Hain,” each page a battlefield transformed into literary jewels. A particularly devastating betrayal silenced him for months, but he emerged writing socially conscious nazms addressing inequality, demonstrating how love’s harsh lessons expand hearts beyond personal concerns into universal empathy.

During interviews, his voice would crack as he explained that pain serves as poetry’s mother, this transformation of private wars into public solace becoming his signature contribution. Imagine him leaning against the microphone, his handsome frame relaxed yet intense, reciting “Mein takiye par sitare bo raha hun”.

At the same time, audiences sat in hushed recognition of untold longing for peace amid chaos. Awards and national recognition marked the highs, while faith-testing lows threatened to break him, yet he continued rising, becoming a columnist who connected traditional forms with modern anguish.

Climbing Stairs Built From Sheer Determination

Aitbaar’s ascent from Rawalpindi’s busy streets to Islamabad’s academic halls happened not through wealth or connections but through relentless will and the power of words. His 2002 debut book sparked wider recognition, though the path remained rocky, including teaching years at H-9, where former students remember impromptu mushairas conducted within classroom confines, inspiring young poets despite syllabus constraints.

Publishers once rejected his work as “too emotional,” prompting him to self-publish and sell copies door to door, treating each sale as a personal victory dance performed in his heart. The 1990s brought health troubles and family obligations, yet radio opportunities let his voice carry pieces like “Koi baat karni hai chand se” across borders into distant homes and hearts. Emotional peaks arrived as crowds chanted his name and awards crowned years of toil, while valleys appeared when mentors passed and he questioned poetry’s value in a world obsessed with material wealth.

His television scriptwriting blended ghazals with narratives of human struggle, establishing him as Urdu’s ambassador and bringing classical beauty into ordinary households. Fame attracted admirers but also bred envy, which he countered by writing nazms addressing social injustices and inequality’s silent screams. During one memorable blackout mushaira, he recited heartbreak verses by candlelight, the power outage mirroring life’s darkness while his performance emerged heroic.

Collections like “Koi Baat Krni Hai Chand Say” combined romance, melancholy and hope across 103 ghazals and 12 nazms, each representing a distinct chapter from his lived experience. As a professor, he would pause lectures to share relevant verses, transforming bored faces into believing hearts. His persistence through job demands and migrations proved that determination ultimately pens destiny. At the same time, his approachable style revived Urdu among younger generations, building bridges between Pakistan’s heritage and audiences worldwide, including in India.

Verses That Refuse to Fade Away

Aitbaar Sajid’s creative flame burns without diminishing, his verses serving as beacons across Urdu literature’s vast landscape, touching hearts whether encountered at live mushairas or through mobile screens. Today, he receives celebration for maintaining continuity, with national awards honouring his blend of social consciousness and romantic sensibility, books finding new printings, and verses going viral among both young and old audiences.

His quiet mentoring of hidden talents through personal correspondence, never seeking credit or recognition, represents a kindness that itself reads like poetry. The gifts born from his struggles shine clearly now, from poverty’s constraints to professorship’s respect, from heartbreaks to hits like “Tumhein jab kabhi milen fursaten,” he inspires millions pursuing dreams amid South Asian chaos and complexity.

In a YouTube conversation, his soft voice shared that “poetry saved me from despair,” with tears hinting at battles won through words rather than weapons. His radio broadcasts reached educated village populations with love’s truths and unity across divides, making his work valuable for contemporary discussions of communal harmony. Fame’s embrace marked his peaks while wisdom deepened through rugged valleys, and now, at life’s later stage, he offers sincerity that defies time’s erosion.

His body of work bridges classical traditions with modern chaos through ghazals that explore fate and nazms that examine present realities, urging audiences to feel deeply and write truthfully. For Indian readers who cherish Urdu poets, his journey demonstrates the power of embracing pain to craft genuine inspiration.

Nobody has traced his complete arc quite this way before, from banyan tree vows to broadcast healing, presenting a deeply personal saga of creative fire sustained across decades. His lesser-known stories remind us that every struggle plants seeds for future verses, every tear waters eventual triumph, and Aitbaar lives on through lines that heal while urging us to pick up our own pens and let hearts roar because the world awaits each person’s unique whisper turned into art that refuses silence.

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