कुछ अजनबी आज दिल के करीब हो गये, अपनों से अपने रिश्ते अजीब हो गए,
आजमाया हमे किस्मत ने उम्र भर, देर से सही हम खुशनसीब हो गए…
-Jas
Dehradun lost its beloved scribe today! Senior Journalist Jaskiran Chopra breathed her last at her home in Dehradun.
I last met Jaskiran di, as I fondly called her on the 16th -17th of December during the Valley of Words, Signature Event. When she found out that VoW was organizing a tribute for the Late Raj Kanwar, she reached out to me, “I have to be part of this panel. Raj ji always encouraged me and I would seek his advice regularly. He was like a father-figure and a guide. I have many memories of him and his family that I would like to share with everyone.’ Despite her failing health she made her way from Delhi and even helped us curate a Mushaira session at the fest.
A prolific journalist from the early 1980’s she was no stranger to the written word. Her forte had been features, book-reviews and well-researched articles. A prolific author, Jaskiran wrote ‘Jashn-e-Tanhai,’ (pub: 2004) and ‘Autumn Raga’, ‘Mera Sheher,’ Yesterday Once More: Memories of another day,’ that harked back to times when the author spent her childhood in the Doon Valley. Last when we spoke, she was working on her latest book on cinema titled Galaxy-Golden Stars of the Silver Screen.
With her kajal eyes, ready smile, soft spoken nature, warmth and a gentle soul Jaskiran was a regular at most literary events in the Dehradun. Journalist turned author-poet-academician she penned many a couplets, poems and gazals which she regularly shared on her Facebook as well as WhatsApp status. She wrote with her pen dipped into the ink-pot of memory bringing to life her hometown Dehradun that had gone by. Given her ailing health, she spent most of her time shuttling between Delhi and Dehradun, a city that held her heart and one which mourns her loss.
Grieving her loss author Ganesh Saili adds, “They say grief is the price we pay for love.. Jaskiran has left us all struggling to cope with yet another fellow writer gone too soon, but she lives on forever in her words, in her ghazals and in her bountiful love for the valley of the Doon. She crosses the Golden Bridge leaving behind her inimitable imprint in the hearts of the students she taught all these years. They in turn will be the eulogies that will sprout out of the ground and turn into roses!”
