Javed Akhtar — the celebrated Indian poet, lyricist, and screenwriter — does not merely write words; he etches them into the consciousness of generations. His eloquence is matched only by his courage. His voice rises from the heart of a complex society where nationalism, religious orthodoxy, and political pressure often conspire to silence free expression. Yet, like water through stone, truth finds its way — sometimes gently, sometimes boldly.
Recently, Akhtar’s off-the-cuff remark drew public ire. When asked whether he would rather visit Pakistan or go to hell, he reportedly replied:
“I would prefer the road to hell.”
On the surface, the comment feels sharp — even offensive. But responsible journalism requires more than reacting to headlines. It demands context, nuance, and a deeper reading of both what is said and why it is said.
Akhtar lives in an India where Muslims — and indeed, all dissenting voices — increasingly navigate a climate of suspicion. To speak freely is to risk being vilified. In such a world, language becomes more than expression; it becomes strategy, sometimes shield.
Consider the symbolic story of Prophet Musa (Moses, peace be upon him), who, as a child in Pharaoh’s palace, was presented with a test: reach for gold or burning coal. Divinely guided, Musa reached for the coal. It scorched his tongue — but spared his life, and preserved his mission.
Sometimes, wisdom demands ambiguity, silence, or even irony — not as surrender, but as survival.
Akhtar himself once reflected in verse:
“Jab tak na lage thokar,
Na khule insaan ke chakshu.”
Until one stumbles, the eyes of understanding do not open.
His poetry transcends political lines. It speaks not of geography but of the human spirit — of love, rebellion, loss, and humanity. Even in critique, Akhtar’s tone is not laced with hatred but empathy. His lens is not sectarian; it is existential.
In another verse, inspired by his secular humanism, he wrote:
“Dharma kya hai, kya mazhab hai, insaan kya hai, Rab kya hai —
In sab baaton ka ab mujhko ek hi matlab lagta hai.”
What is religion, what is faith, who is man, who is God —
All these questions now lead me to one meaning: humanity.
As Pakistanis — and as Muslims — it is our responsibility to rise above emotional responses and embrace discernment. Islam does not teach knee-jerk judgment. It warns against declaring others faithless, for only the Divine knows what resides in the heart.
Let this not be a moment of outrage, but of maturity. Let it open the gates of dialogue, not division.
As one of Akhtar’s own lines so powerfully reminds us:
“Yeh jo deewar hai, yeh darwaza nahi hai…
Yeh roshni hai dil ki, jo kabhi band nahi hoti.”
This wall is not a door…
It is the light of the heart, which never closes.
Let us walk toward that light — together.