He reveals that there are thousands of stories stored in his memory, yet listeners of his stories are missing. He remembers the good old days when almost every coffee house in Damascus had a story-teller or a Hakawati who attracted large audiences. However, this traditional art no longer appeals to the people.

While reading about the sad turn of affairs of the Syrian Hakawati in a report recently published in Dawn, I was reminded of Mir Baqar Ali, whose tale is not much different from that of Abu Shadi. The tail ends of vanishing traditions are fated to be witness to the end of their art and appear as tragic heroes of culture.

It was during the latter years of the 19th century that Mir Baqar Ali gained prominence as a dastango. The events of 1857 served as a great setback for the art of storytelling. Despite this downward spiral, such artists remained in great demand and their art of recitation was held in high esteem.

Following the lead of Lucknow and Delhi, states such as Hyderabad, Rampur and Patiala became patrons to the art. Mir Baqar Ali was received with much honour in the darbar of Maharaja Patiala.

According to the decorum of the darbar, he had to make his appearance with a turban on his head. But he refused to part with his traditional cap and so the Maharaja had to relax this rule for his sake.

Times changed with the advent of the 20th century. New kinds of entertainment attracted the attention of Dilliwallahs and storytelling began to lose its charm.

Mir Baqar Ali sensed this change, observing that mehfils for dastangoi were held in the city sparingly.

The cultured gentry became scarce; personalities like Hakim Ajmal Khan, Nawab Faiz Ahmad Khan and Seth Channa Mal off and on invited him to their diwan khanas and remained all praises for his art.

For the sake of the ardent admirers of his art, Mir Baqar Ali made arrangements for the recital of dastans at his residence. Entry was for one ana per head. Old admirers arrived there in limited numbers and Mir Sahib took care to observe the decorum of the mehfil and recited dastans with the old passion peculiar to him.

But this arrangement did not last long. The bioscope arrived and took the city by storm. Dilliwallahs rushed to cinema houses and soon dastan became an outdated form of entertainment.

Mir Baqar Ali was now a disillusioned man and in that very state he bid goodbye to dastangoi. He then chose to become a vendor. The man who won popularity as a dastango and was welcomed in the courts of nawabs and rajas, was guest of honour in the diwan khanas of the elites of Delhi, could now be seen making rounds as a vendor selling betel-nuts.

When asked why he retired from dastangoi, he replied with a bitter tone 'Where are the listeners of the dastan? In search of my listeners I will have to go to the graveyard. Those who were cultured enough to have a taste for this fine art are buried deep in their graves.'

He added that, 'Dilliwallahs have forgotten the etiquette of chewing pan. This speaks of their cultural deterioration. I just want to re-educate them on this account. It is not just a matter of chewing pan ka patta in a rustic way.

'One is required to be well-aware of the decorum associated with this act. Dilliwallahs stand in need of being educated anew in this respect. That is what I am trying to do and for this I have taken lessons from Shahi

Tanboli who served as an attendant to Huzoor Badshah Salamat in Qila-i-Mualla.'

Such was the man known to us as Mir Baqar Ali dastango. He did not live long after retirement from his art. He died in 1928 and along with him Urdu dastangoi breathed its last.