{"id":4149,"date":"2019-06-04T09:23:36","date_gmt":"2019-06-04T03:53:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/?p=4149"},"modified":"2019-06-04T09:23:39","modified_gmt":"2019-06-04T03:53:39","slug":"yusuf-buch-great-son-of-kashmir","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/point-of-view\/kashmir-talk\/yusuf-buch-great-son-of-kashmir\/","title":{"rendered":"Yusuf Buch Great Son of Kashmir"},"content":{"rendered":"<\/fb:like>\n

By Manejeh Yaqoob <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn\n the passing of Ambassador Yusuf Buch, Kashmir has lost a formidable \nindigenous voice of reason and rationale. Since his peaceful passing to a\n better world,I\u2019ve heard several kind words from generations of world \nvoices describing him as a Distinguished Diplomat, Iconic Expert, \nLegendary Intellectual, Moral Compass, Over-Achiever, \nMeritorious,Mentor, Guiding Light, Resolute, Intelligent, Wise, \nScholarly, Advisor, Brilliant star, Living Encyclopedia,Son of Soil and \nso much more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\n led a fulfilled life, a life that I know shall inspire generations to \ncome. To have vision with the kind of clarity he had with unwavering \ncommitment to truth and fairness, publicly for over 8 decades, with \nsteadfastness, strength and courage despite all the challenges he was \nfaced with, is indeed unique.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There\n can reams of paper that would probably only summarize his unique \nexperiences, presenting a true chronicle of Kashmir\u2019s history in the \nlast 100 years. He died at the age of 98, but had a unique mastery of \nKashmir\u2019s history since we have known it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\n shall not venture today to write about Amb.Buch the seasoned and \nbrilliant Diplomat, Intellectual or Socio-Political Scholar, but I want \nto share with all, the amazing family man he was, My Grand Uncle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My\n earliest memory of him is from 1980, winter at Kashmir House, 5 \nPrithviraj Road, New Delhi. We were all in awe of him knowing of his \nachievements that spanned continents.His was a personality so charming \nand so graceful, it was magnetic. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\n was all of 5, pattering around in my blue dress with pansies and \ndaises, when his older brother my other Grand Uncle Ghulam Naqashbund \nhad arranged a photo shoot of the family on the terrace garden, since \nUncle Yusuf had finally been able to return to briefly visit his family \nafter a very long forced political exile spanning 30 years at the time. \nAs I was posing for the pictures, he remarked gauging my confidence that\n I should consider modeling as a profession, which instantly not only \ncatapult my confidence further but won me over as my favorite Grand \nUncle. Such was his persona and instant connection to a 5 year old, who \nhe inducted in his fan club for life in an instant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In\n all his letters, emails and conversations, with me over the next 4 \ndecades his profound love and affection for each member of the family \nalways shone through. Ironical that he never truly had a family that he \nlived with most of his life, but he never ceased to provide family \nvalues and guidance to his extended family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As\n a son, I saw in him the most deeply obedient, caring, compassionate \noffspring who revered his beloved mother with all his spiritual might. \nHe was clearly the mothers favorite. More so, since he was the one she \npined for the most. The mother was a very progressive lady. Living \nmostly apart from her husband who traded in the then Bombay, she was \nentrusted with not only caring for the family, but also ensure quality \neducation for the children that she strived for from the many windows of\n her Kalashpora mansion against several odds where her cousins and \nextended family almost revolted towards her stance of western education \nof the Buch family. She was a remarkable lady, deeply spiritual who \novercame the pain of separation from her worthy son, in actually \nachieving a level of literacy wherein she could write him letters. For \nyears, all he had as communication with the family was letters .The \nmother would have the letters read to her, again and again and then \nliterally memorize them, and stare at them, until one day she gathered \nthe strength to start writing one, on that blue airmail. What the two \nconversed through the letters between a highly literate and just about \nliterate ends was fluid motherhood on one and a deep longing for the \nmother on the other. There was seldom a conversation where he failed to \npay some tribute to his mother until the last time we met in Sept of \n2018.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As\n a brother, he shared his deep affection for his sister in most \nconversations we had. Reminiscing the times she spent in New York with \nhim, he often remembered minute details like where it happened, how it \nhappened, all her reactions associated with the memory. After her tragic\n death at a young age, he embarked on a journey to pay lasting tributes \nto her memory and legacy in various ways. Whether it was serving as a \nmentor and guide to her sons, or creating a trust in her name for \neducational grants, he kept true to his values and not only missed her, \nbut found ways to effectively channelize the brotherly love to \nactionable outcomes that helped serve as a means to better other lives. \nVery often he would share nostalgic tales of times she had visited him \nin New York, and places they had visited and experiences they had. \nAlthough much of their life, they hardly met, he distinctly remembered \nall times he spent with her. For him, the time that she had recommended \nto pack sweaters in the small bag he took with him during his arrest (it\n was April and he was convinced the separation would not be more than a \nfew weeks, so a sweater would not be necessary), to the regular letters \nthrough which they kept in touch over the years, the brother-sister \nrelationship was a chronicle of sibling values, that anyone would love \nto pass on to their offsprings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His\n relationship with his brothers also bore the stories that one can \nderive history from. All three of them shared love for  English \nliterature, Persian poetry, playing chess, and intellectually opining on\n various world matters. In being witness to their conversations one \ncould learn an ocean of information. Whether it was Saadis romanticism, \nor the tragic symbolism of Keats, or opinions about the socio political \nsituations anywhere in the world, the conversations were astute, deep \nthinking and full of questioning and learning from one another. Uncle \nYusuf and Uncle Naqashbund spoke on the phone for hours when both were \nwell into their 90s and I wondered often how much they could talk? And \nabout what?After all, one does not really see siblings having long drawn\n conversations every single day about anything and everything. They were\n the best of friends, that not only cared deeply for one another but \nwere also blessed in sharing various ideologies and had very similar \ninterests. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\n connected with all his nieces and nephews, individually leaving a \nstrong mark on their identity. In him, I witnessed each one of them \nhaving the highest reverence of him, and in him I saw deep rooted and \ncaring affection. He also understood each one of them very well as \nindividuals and would often remark at being blessed in having an \nextended family that was diverse and spread across the continents like a\n string of pearls, yet connected well with the bonds of longing and love\n for one another. Although many of them did not get to see him as often,\n and many saw or met him rarely, the relationship they shared was never \ndiluted by the pain of forced separation. He would often remark to me, \nhow he felt my mother spoke like a 19 year old on the phone (the voice \nof a young girl)and how in his eyes, she was always the 3 year old he \nhad in his lap when he was torn away from his home. Whenever we met, the\n love was obvious and he never ceased to ensure she was doing ok. \nSometimes, we would try to speak to one another in Kashmiri and he would\n often stop and question me, and test my knowledge on some words. He \nwould be delighted if I passed and disappointed in my failure. This was a\n language that he got to speak for only about 1\/3rd of his life, yet he \nmaintained his hold on it, right to his last days. To him language was \ninherent to identity and he believed our language was testimony for our \nexistence and resistance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another\n remarkable talent he had, was to understand relationships. When I got \nmarried in 2004, he had the best advice for me, which I not only cherish\n and live by, but also hold it as some sort of a motto to live a married\n life by. He said- \u201cthe beauty of this relationship is your endless \ndevotion to one another\u201d. That is so true. A complex relationship can be\n made beautiful by that simple motto. To stay devoted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\n reminisced very often about Kashmir. About it\u2019s expansive and vivid \nbeauty , it\u2019s unique cross roads culture and it\u2019s struggling \nsocio-economic conditions.About how his parents (especially his \nmothers)astute stance on education at the turn of the century for the \nfour siblings changed the course of history for the family. His \npictographic memory coupled with deep eloquence of expression was \nremarkable during all conversations we had. When he spoke of the \u201cNallae\n Mer\u201d, the waterbody comparable to the Grand Canal in Venice on the \nbanks of which their Kalashpora home was located, there was fluid \nhistory that traversed the conversation. His times in Aligarh, Pakistan,\n Europe, New York City were studded with being witness to insides of \nhistorical events, that one only gets to read or hear of, but rarely \nbeing witness to. He often spoke about Kashmir\u2019s cultural connections to\n Central Asia and extensively talked about his visits to Samarkand, \nYarkand, Bukhara, Khatlan, Khiva and other places on the ancient silk \nroute. There was never a dull moment or a moment one would not learn \nsomething new from these conversations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Last\n week, as we drove from Islamabad to Muzaffarabad via Murree and Nathia \nGali to fulfill his last wish, to be buried in Azad Kashmir, I felt like\n I knew the region fairly well, although I had never been there before \nand he had not visited in about 20 years, his conversations captured \nevery detail with such visual beauty, it became a part of my living \nmemory which gave me a strange sense of being acquainted with the \nregion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\n came back to finally rest at the place he deeply loved, as a revered \nhero that shall inspire generations to come. Beneath a pine tree, \n besides his mentor (Mirwaiz Yousuf Shah), adjacent to his dearest \ncounterpart Khwaja Hassan Khurshid, with two Chinar trees in the back, \nsurrounded by snow capped mountains and a library\/reading room full of \nbooks and newspapers, with people of all ages learning from them right \nbesides.At the university in AJK, a chair is proposed in his name, along\n with a scholarship in central asian studies. It could not be a more \nsymbolic resting place. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Forced\n exile and painful separation from his loved ones did not limit his \nbrilliance, nor his spirit that knew no bounds. In his story is the \nexample of limitless human potential, resolute character, being on the \nright side of history with all its challenges and glory and the \nsteadfast belief in being \u201cfree\u201d – Azad. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A story of every Kashmiri.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rest\n In Peace and absolute power my dearest Uncle Yusuf. Your guidance \nhelped shape my identity and in me, you shall live until I do, and I \nknow far far longer than that in so many stories of courage and \nbrilliance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"image1.jpeg\"\/<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

This\n picture is of his resting place beneath the pine tree, in front of the \nmasoulem of Mirwaiz Yousuf Shah in Muzaffarabad, AJK. On the right is \nthe masoleum of KH Khurshid, which houses a reading room\/library in its \nground floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"image2.jpeg\"\/<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Picture from March 2018, during our visit to New York City. My mother, Rifat Jabeen to his left, and myself to his right.<\/p>\n<\/fb:like><\/span>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Manejeh Yaqoob <\/p>\n

\u201cIn
\n the passing of Ambassador Yusuf Buch, Kashmir has lost a formidable
\nindigenous voice of reason and rationale. Since his peaceful passing to a
\n better world,I\u2019ve heard several kind words from generations of world
\nvoices describing him as a Distinguished Diplomat, Iconic Expert,
\nLegendary Intellectual, Moral Compass, Over-Achiever,
\nMeritorious,Mentor, Guiding Light, Resolute, Intelligent, Wise,
\nScholarly, Advisor, Brilliant star, Living Encyclopedia,Son of Soil and
\nso much more.<\/p>\n

He
\n led a fulfilled life, a life that I know shall inspire generations to
\ncome. To have vision with the kind of clarity he had with unwavering
\ncommitment to truth and fairness, publicly for over 8 decades, with
\nsteadfastness, strength and courage despite all the challenges he was
\nfaced with, is indeed unique.<\/p>\n

There
\n can reams of paper that would probably only summarize his unique
\nexperiences, presenting a true chronicle of Kashmir\u2019s history in the
\nlast 100 years. He died at the age …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4149","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-kashmir-talk"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4149"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4149"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4149\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4150,"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4149\/revisions\/4150"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4149"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4149"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/peacewatchkashmir.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4149"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}