For the very first time, I saw Allahdad standing in front of a book stall at Atta Shad Degree College Turbat with two of his friends. I, too, had a friend with me who went at the very same stall to explore books. Back then, though I did not know him (Dàd) personally, but deep down, I had a feeling that I knew and had seen him somewhere.
He greeted me in such a way that I felt I were his brother – though I am not even someone from his home, but he made me feel like I were his own elder brother. I was surprised (to see his warm affection) but I did not react much at that very moment.
It was around 2014 when I went to Karachi for my Master’s degree. Humans are basically homeless, to be honest. In my initial quest (in Karachi), I found myself at Rabia City in a flat with around four bachelor roommates. Though they varied in ideology, they were staying together: one was preparing for commission’s exam and some of them were students of Philosophy. And one among them was Allahdad. He was very silent and sitting somewhere in the flat.
When I reached there in the flat, he came and sat with me. To be very honest, I did not recognize him at once. After the introduction, then I remembered that he was him. Eventually, I recalled the former book stall in my mind, etc and etc.
With time, he emerged. He was then doing his M.Phil and working on research. Before his martyrdom, one among his core works was that he was comparatively studying Atta (Shad), Sahir, Sayad (Hashumi) and Mubarak (Qazi) and writing his conclusions. He was working very accurately taking all his time. He was not in a hurry and wanted the best out of his work. (Those very close to Dàd may better know about it and can also rectify me if I am wrong).
I am not aware now to what extent he worked on his project and what works remain. At the very same time when he was working on all these literary stuffs, he was also very social and participating in every social gathering or issue and making ways forward for his people. He was silently working; hence, his work and his legacy remain in every Balochi reader and writer today as well. He had a very impactful presence in the Baloch societal welfare.
At around 8 in the night, a message circulated in Whatsapp groups: “A man was killed in a firing incident at Ghamshad hotel in Turbat.” After a while, the assassinated person’s picture came. His identity didn’t immediately come to mind. I asked a friend, who then told me that the assassinated youth was Allahdad.
And then, it was Allahdad, the Atta Shad book stall and the flat in Rabia City with all those memories.
In his funeral, there was a high number of attendees. People were coming from far areas. At last, a group of women had come to bid the final farewell to the deceased soul. After gossips, a sudden heart-wrenching outburst of grief quivered the entire graveyard. Dad’s younger brother stood in hallowed silence, tears tracing paths down his face and mouth held with the shawl he had.
When I finally drew near to pay my respects, the sight was harrowing; the lifeblood still seeped through his burial shroud, a final, tragic reminder of his passing.
Farewell Dàd.
