He cared a fuck about what we thought,
Showed his finger to the world at large.
Every evening filled his whisky glass,
And unleashed his malice towards all.
We loved his wit, ribald jokes and all.
We loved his pen, dipped in vitriol.
Those who read deeper stood in awe,
A scholar! Disguised as a sardar.
Deep erudition with earthy wit,
Knowledge, conviction, and a viewpoint.
In Urdu, Punjabi, and English.
In your face, he seldom held back.
He cared little for all the medals,
Nor for all the barbs flung at him.
Immersed in life, but largely immune,
He lived fully, and left, on his terms.
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