From: "Noelle Gray" in Connecticut
Grief stricken in CT
Jahanara Akhlaq was my friend. I just now found out that she and
her father are no longer alive. I am beside myself with grief.
I am grateful to have found your email so I could say this to
someone.
Her family came to the US because her father received a teaching
job at Yale University. He and Shaharazad enrolled Jahanara at
the Educational Center for the Arts in the dance program. This is
where we met. She was 14. I was 17. The instant I met her I loved
her. I used to watch her practice Khatak for hours. She was
working on a piece given to her by her instructor, who she was to
meet in London after she'd worked on the piece for a full year. I
asked her about one of the hand movements of her dance... and she
told me it meant "tiger". She taught me how to say
"tiger" with my hands. She taught me how to dance with
joy. I still dance. In fact, I teach internationally. I've often
wondered about her, remembering the time she told me about
Lahore, how beautiful the city was, how sometimes she could wear
shorts on the street and other times she would have to cover
herself completely. She expressed her frustration for it. I
expressed my worry for her.
Her family invited my family over for dinner. Zahoor and
Sheherezade were so gracious and lovely. They invited me to visit
them in Pakistan if ever I found myself in the country. Her
father told me that when I came to visit I would be assigned an
escort. He explained that it was necessary. I remember Jehanara
describing her house in Lahore... tall walls surrounding it..
more like a fortress than anything we have here in the US. I used
to dream about seeing her again.... having the joy of her showing
me her country, her Lahore...as I'd shown her my country, my New
Haven.
After I graduated high school, Jahanara went to London (or so I
thought).... I lost touch with her... I asked our mutual dance
teacher, whom I ran into about a year later, to please let
Jahanara know that I missed her and hoped she was well. That was
my last word of her... she was healthy, alive, vibrant.
For my graduation her family gave me a Kurta Pyjama. I wore it
when I walked across the stage to accept and academic
scholarship. It was my most treasured article of clothing.
I remember her telling me that Khatak was forbidden by her
religion. I remember her telling me about how he had to practice
in secret. I remember thinking to myself how brave she was... and
how difficult it was for me to understand why anyone would stand
in the way of such an incredible dance form!
I feel such deep grief right now... denial.... anger.....
regret.....how could someone so wonderful be torn away so
violently???
She taught me how to say A Salaam alaikum. She also taught me
some not so nice words... but I can't seem to recall any of them.
She was so beautiful.. she used to joke about having Africa in
her eye from the scar left behind from the knife wound... that's
how I've always remembered her: the girl with Africa in her eye.
I'll stop now. Thank you for having an email address for me to
write to....
Where was she buried/laid to rest? How can I contact her sister
and mother? Are they okay???
Please write back.
Sincerest Regards,
Noelle Gray artdevoir@yahoo.com
Hello
Just browsing through Internet, I happen to visit, by chance, a
site about Zahoor ul Akhlaq. I remember meeting him for the first
time in 1962 while working in an ad agency studio with Jamil
Naqsh. The shock of his death still lingers. I live in Canada
since 1965. Our paths never crossed after that. Still I remember
him as a serious quiet young man. While going through whatever
material I could find, there was no mention of his wife.
Surprising! Since your e-mail address was there, I thought I
should just drop in a line, for old time sake.
Regards.
Ahmad Humayun designmatters2@hotmail.com
I did receive other messages but lost them all in a system crash. If anyone cares to send again I will post them. TS