Allah Dad was called by name, Dad, by all friends. This short name suited him the best. He was obviously a Dad (gift) by God. Selfless, caring and helpful, he was always available to help and give time. A very social man, Dad participated in all social works-marriages, funeral, and religious festivals.
I happened to meet Dad during my university days at Turbat when he had just graduated from Karachi University History Department and had returned home in Turbat. Intellectually enlightened and enthusiastic, he was busy spending time in intellectual debates with different learned circles. At was this time when he, along with some other friends, had taken up to publish a journal on history- named Rajdaftar. Of others, I found Dad the most serious, anxious, optimistic and so conscious with what he had taken in hand.
Days were passing. I became so intimate with Dad, often spending entire holidays with him, in Gamshad hotel, Cinema chowk Hotel or in gardens in Apsar. The relation developed to an extent that Dad became more than a brother in my eyes. Having decided to carry on higher Studies, he took M.phil admission in Quaid Azum University, History department, thus leaving Turbat. Faced with financial hurdles, soon he returned home, leaving M-phil unfinished.
Clean-hearted, Dad would sometimes get hurt, but soon forgets what hurt him. Of hundreds, he was the only human who I never found complaining about being jobless after graduation. He was so clear – this system is not endurable for me. Indolent and hopeless, I was often motivated by Dad. Motivated to read, write, translate, he would often give me books asking nothing in return. And then would inquire if I had read the books and would ask to review and critically examine.
The credit of publishing my mini book – Philosophy of law – goes to Dad, definitely. It was he who motivated me to complete the translation – that I had left unfinished – and it was also he who gave a proofread to it and then would arrange finance for its publication. In short, he burdened this task himself.
Dad, when asked by me to dedicate the book in his name, declined. He wished to remain anonymous. Never hungered for credit. His only will was to bring on records as many Balochi books as possible. Literature, he argued, is what Baloch needs the most at this critical time.
Faced with extreme financial constraints, Dad would brave to pursue intellectual activities. Leaving M.phil studies was mainly the consequence of financial hurdle. But the activity of reading and distributing books remained consistent. Dad’s ‘Dodmaan publication’ – a publishing institute mainly focus on social science – published several books.
It hurts to express that on Sunday, two days before his death, we would spent entire day in happiness and joys. It is a harsh truth that the said moment would not return. This is the most agonizing fact. At this day, Dad would desire to work on ancient history. 2nd February, 2025, was our last get together… once and for all. On 4th February, 2025, he was mercilessly martyred, leaving yet another gap to be filled.
