TANGI – The winds in Tangi felt heavier today, the sky still, the atmosphere somber. Thousands of tearful faces gathered, lips trembling with one name—“Meerawas.” The same Meer Awais who lit up sorrowful faces with laughter through his sharp wit and humor, who became the face of satire on the Pashto stage and television. Today, he was laid to rest in silence.
Born in 1955 as Hayatullah Khan into a middle-class family in Tangi tehsil, few knew his real name. But his stage persona, iconic expressions, and memorable dialogues are instantly recognized in every Pashtun household. Meerawas was not just an actor—he was a voice, a thought, and a cultural movement.
After a prolonged illness, Meerawas passed away quietly on March 4. But his son, Adnan Hayat, couldn’t stay silent. Speaking to TNN in a voice heavy with grief, he said, “We haven’t just lost a father, we’ve lost a system that never stood by us. And when it did, it was only for the camera.”
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Adnan’s words pierced not just hearts but raised a poignant question—are artists only meant to be applauded in life and forgotten in death with a few customary condolences?
He revealed that his father faced oxygen shortages twice during hospitalization, and oxygen was only restored through personal connections. “Is this the society that claims to honor its artists?” he asked. “Or is that honor only limited to the glow of the stage lights?”
Chief Minister Ali Amin Gandapur, ANP’s Aimal Wali Khan, Aftab Ahmad Khan Sherpao, and other political and social figures expressed their sorrow over the loss. Many called Meerawas an “era” in Pashto culture. But as Adnan questioned, where were these voices when that era lay ill and helpless?
With Nishtar Hall shut and PTV’s stage dramas discontinued, most artists have been left with limited income from minor social media platforms. According to former ANP tehsil nazim candidate Haji Farman Ali, artists are only remembered when they’re no longer with us. While ANP’s initiative of a studio named Angaazay at Bacha Khan Markaz offers some hope, Farman Ali called it insufficient. He urged the government to provide support and employment to Meer Awais’s family, so that other artists may believe their art won’t be abandoned.
In 2015, Meerawas was blessed with the opportunity to perform Umrah. That spiritual journey added even more humility, gentleness, and gratitude to his personality. His bowed head in front of the Kaaba remains etched in the hearts of his fans, reminding them that he wasn’t just an artist, but a devout and humble soul.
Now, Meerawas rests in silence in Tangi. But his story, his struggle, his artistry, and those sacred moments spent at the Kaaba could mark the beginning of a new conversation—if we choose to listen.
