Rehman Sahib
17 April 2021
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| With Rehman sahib and Mahboob Ali, the only woodcut artist in Pakistan |
I needed to write somewhere and Pakistan Times was the only paper in Lahore I could write for. (I did not much care for two other papers then coming out of the city.) My introduction was met with instant recognition which was a bit of a surprise because I had only been writing since 1983 and did not expect to be known to someone of Rehman sahib’s stature. Now I know true greatness of the soul does not keep one from looking at lower stations of life. I asked if I could write for him and he at once asked for Aziz Siddiqui sahib to join us. Here I, a pygmy, was in the company of two intellectual giants of the gentlest demeanour imaginable.
Before sending me off with Siddiqui sahib, Rehman sahib said I should see him before leaving. In his office, Siddiqui sahib introduced me to a person whose name should best be left unsaid and told him I would be writing for his page. Sending the man off, Siddiqui sahib said, I was to always see him and no one else. I was to give my work to him and not directly to the page in charge. I was only to recognise Siddiqui sahib’s reservations after a few weeks. But that is another story that tells how perspicacious Siddiqui sahib was about my personality and the professional capacity of his underling.
Back in Rehman sahib’s office, I was offered an honorarium that, given our circumstance, seemed reasonable and I started writing for Pakistan Times. I was told to see him for payments at the beginning of the month. Those were pre-computer days (I got my first machine in 1991) and every week I would see Siddiqui sahib with my typescript hard copy. At the beginning of the next month I went in for my dues. Rehman sahib took out his wallet, counted out the money and said he had drawn my dues to make things simpler. This was the payment mode for the three or so months I wrote for Pakistan Times.
Then The Frontier Post began publication from Lahore and Beena Sarwar made me an offer that was too good to be true. I went to see Rehman sahib to tell him what I was being offered and if I had his permission to take it.
‘Bhai, iss main poochnay kee kya baat hai!’ – What’s there to ask, he exclaimed. With unstinting encouragement he told me to do as well as I had done while with him. A couple of years later while still at the Post, friend Sarwat Ali and I were talking of the time we both wrote for PT. Sarwat said the paper still owed him several thousand rupees because they had no money to pay freelance contributors.
Surprised I told him I was always paid in the first week of the new month. I also told Sarwat how Rehman sahib so kindly drew my dues so that I did not have to run around after the cheque. What Sarwat said next was a shock to me: Rehman sahib had been paying me out of his own purse!
That Shabnam and I were penniless when we moved back from Karachi was a fact known only to my childhood friend Parvaiz Saleh and army friend Moneir Aslam and no one else. There was no way Rehman sahib could have heard of our pecuniary position because neither Moneir nor Parvaiz were on Rehman sahib’s circuit. I remember remarking to Sarwat about it and he said that was Rehman sahib and he just knew. To this day I have not been able to figure out how he could have known and I never asked because I knew I would embarrass him. For that same consideration I never mentioned this act of insightful understanding and compassion either in writing or verbally to anyone.
Time rolled on as we struggled to get back on our feet. Some months later I went to see Rehman sahib and to his asking how I was doing I responded with the stock phrase that people normally use. I had never said ‘guzr rahi hai’ ever before because it was so redolent of defeat and I don’t recall what frame of mind I was in to utter this abject phrase. I got a right proper dressing down. ‘Guzr rahi hai?’ Rehman sahib almost exploded. Here I was not yet forty and so defeated by life. There followed a short talk the gist of which was to never give up the good fight. I left his office, my soul uplifted and prepared to take head on whatever life threw at me.
Thereafter I often met Rehman sahib and what I began to like most was the clarity of his thought. You asked a question and the response was utterly unequivocal. It was as crystal clear as his writing. His responses were meant to clarify, never to confound. It was as if Rehman sahib had been forewarned and had prepared for whatever I wanted to discuss. It was nothing of the sort. This was just a very great mind at work ready to give.
It took us a few years and we were back on track when Shabnam had some business with Rehman sahib. We climbed up to his top floor office in the Human Right Commission of Pakistan (HRCP) building. Seeing us he immediately turned away from whatever he was doing and with his patent impish smile asked after both of us. After Shabnam’s business was done, we chatted about things and I jokingly commented on how grumpy I was getting. The year would have been 1996 or thereabouts.
Since Mr Wilson of Dennis the Menace fame is a favourite character – and who could have played it better than Walter Matthau as in the first movie – I said, ‘When I grow old I am going to be as grouchy as Mr Wilson.’
Rehman sahib did not approve of that growing old phrase. ‘What is the matter with you? I am in my sixties and I don’t think of old age and here you are more than twenty years my junior dreaming of it!’
Another pep talk followed. The essence of what Rehman sahib said was to die young as late as possible; to keep the spirit alive and to value and cherish life. Death was not even to be thought about.
Rehman sahib became the haven to turn to when it blew hard and he was the anchor to tether one’s boat to when it got rough.
It was impossible to escape his scintillating sense of humour. At some function where tea or a meal followed, as we were heading for the food table, Rehman sahib, his face alight with that same mischievous smile waved his hand in the direction of the crowd milling around the table trying to get ahead of each other, and said, ‘Khana barpa hai!’ It sounded exactly as he had meant it to sound: the battle was afoot.
That was not his only one-liner. It is unfortunate that virtually thousands of his brilliant one-liners are now either lost or preserved in a few minds that were around him.
When Asma Jahangir suddenly passed away, I was at the funeral where I spotted Rehman sahib. In the years of my association with him, I had come to know how close he was to that wonderful feisty human rights defender that Asma was. I went across to him. We shook hands and before I could say anything, my face contorted as I tried to control my emotions. Rehman sahib squeezed my hand and nodded. Nothing needed to be said. For a brief while he and I sat down either on a bench or some chairs laid out without speaking. Then he was swamped by others and I excused myself.
For some time now I had been thinking of photographing my senior friends and a few months ago I went to the HRCP offices with my camera. Rehman sahib was not there. I called his son Asha’ar to ask and he said, he was a bit irregular at work and that I could always come around to do the photography at home. But I was engaged in a project and the mission kept getting put off. And then it was too late.
I was in the outback of Sadiqabad (Rahim Yar Khan) where cell phone signals were erratic. One evening I got a truncated text message from Shabnam about someone being ‘no more’. I had waited too long to photograph the man I had come to know in 1989 and learnt to love and respect for what he was. Now his smile will live only in my memory.
Returning from the south I went to see Asha’ar. I had thought it unnecessary to call beforehand. Because Asha’ar was down with a fever, his wife (who I had never met) came out to ask. I told her I was away and could not attend the funeral. All she had to say how great a loss it had been and I broke down. I don’t know what she would have thought of my abrupt turn about as I came out of the house. She might have considered me a horribly uncouth person to leave so suddenly, but I did not want her to see.
In the car, I wept.
posted by Salman Rashid @ 10:55,
9 Comments:
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At 17 April 2021 at 11:29,
Saidul Amin said...
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Sir,It's very wonderful,you really depicted what he was...it moved me when read that he was paying you out of his pocket..great man,May Allah bless the departed soul...
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At 17 April 2021 at 13:37,
Hassaan Naeem said...
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I little known Rehman Shb. In the 80s when I was a child, in our home, people like Rehman Shb and Asma Jahangir were considered anti-Pakistan. Such was the case with Ahmed Faraz and Habib Jalib Shb. It all happened after Gen Musharraf grasp power and became the Ruler of our beloved country that many people like me realised the realities of what civil rule should be. I started knowing about these personalities and with time, their true stature got unfolded before me. Great people they were. And reading this note about Rehman Shb is something a treat. I don’t know for a man who’s no more, a brief about him like the one you have written should be called a treat but for me it is.
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At 17 April 2021 at 16:15,
Noble Tufail said...
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I know my writing skills won't match the way you write sir. But I want to say that In this world of chaos disorder and struggle there are souls that I call "light of God" to others. Rahman sahib was one such soul. And you too have the same anointing. GOD illuminates through his special people. This is why it is said in Bible that "In thy light we see light" Psalms 36:9
Keep lighting
Much love
Noble Tufail Bhatti -
At 19 April 2021 at 14:35,
majornab said...
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True towering personality but hidden in humility....may we have the strength to follow his traits. How unfortunate that I did not meet him, our drug store was just across the road in that building of Main market. Met Asma BB but never him.
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At 20 April 2021 at 05:09,
majornab said...
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He had an office just across the street and we never knew what a gem he was. Sorry not to have met him. Thank you Salman sb for bringing out this person to us
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At 21 April 2021 at 07:48,
Unknown said...
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An interesting insight into the personality of a great man. Used to read his centrepage articles with great interest. I.A.Rehman and Asma Jehangir were compatible in as much as their cause, for one had a quiet demure while the other a firebrand.
Envy you for being in the company of such inspirational personalities. Always wanted to write, but never tried my hand at it.
Reading intermittent quips on your own self, takes me back to old times, with no change.
Regards and best wishes.Qazi Najeeb Khan. -
At 21 April 2021 at 09:10,
Salman Rashid said...
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Dear Najeeb, thank you very much. Both Rehman sahib and Asma complimented each other by the stark difference in their demeanours. Both were truly great people.
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At 30 April 2021 at 13:15,
Mohd Rafi Yaacob said...
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Dear Sir..I have noticed you have a long absence of articles or stories..Alhamdulillah I can read it again. Hopefully to read more stories from you. I learn more from you about travel writer and about how to express things and to be more details. Thank you.
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At 12 April 2022 at 15:03,
Salman Rashid said...
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Mohammad Rafi Yacood, please watch my YT channel for travel stories: https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=aik+musafir+ki+dunya&qpvt=aik+musafir+ki+dunya&FORM=VDRE
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