Our friend Ramiz

A perennial back bencher throughout life, it was a bit of trauma  when I ended up in the front row of a cramped classroom, with the teachers desk only a yard plus away. Coupled with that, this kid sat next to me, who was a trial and a half. He never stopped being incredibly happy. 

In the junior school of Karachi Grammar School, in those years, we had these old 1930s benches (1930s because it had carved on it, X loves Y, 193x), with two attached desks cobbled to the bench. Effectively, you shared one long desk with the person next to you and that happened to be ‘the happy individual’. Ramiz Allawala from then on, for almost fifty years, remained a happy part of my existence.

So this was Junior School and through that year, it did not matter if the tests were tough, or the results bad, or Pakistan lost in hockey or cricket. Ramiz was always happy! He just laughed and smiled at everything and had no other mood swings. Even for under tens like us (who were generally optimistic and with few hang ups) this was a difficult one to handle. I must have stared at him hundreds of times and considered how to take that smile off his lips. But, I am so glad to say, that I did not succeed then, or in the ensuing years.        

Yes, there was one occasion when I saw him serious, but that was not my doing. It was a particular showdown with our Principal, in our last year at school. Both Ramiz and myself were House Captains and we had been summoned and given a set down. Surprisingly, Ramiz was vocal during that meeting and it showed a particular fighting quality in him, which  resurfaced at various times in his life.   

We came back to Pakistan in the 1980s, after our studies, as did most of our class (this was usual in those days). It was a great bonding period for us friends. Early careers, unmarried and fairly care-free. It was around this time that Ramiz showed another part of his personality about which we were totally unaware. He started speaking and spoke about things, which never in a thousand years we could imagine floated in that happy brain. He spoke about spirituality, about sincerity, about doing the right things and more importantly about how to make life happen.

Over the years Ramiz reached out to thousands. Some for free, some as part of his new profession. He became articulate and respected, inspired other people, helped change lives, but still never lost his grassroots or his happiness. We saw less of him, as he traveled and eventually settled abroad, but whenever we met, it was like sitting on that desk and bench in school almost fifty years ago. That connect with ground reality, what we were and where we came from never left us. It was always an emotional experience meeting him, sadly only once in a while.

When our childhood friend Ramiz Allawala arrived back home at Jinnah Terminal, a dozen of us went to receive him. It was no ordinary homecomIng. He had bravely chosen to walk away from a one year fight with late stage colon cancer. His decision to come home to family and friends was a decision of faith and love. It was a decision which said there are more important things in life than mere existence. Love, friendship, loyalty and home are perennial and count for more. A wish to be buried in your soil is a strong attraction for us humans. To see a man supremely fit (he used to do tens of laps of the pool regularly) at almost half his size, shrunken, eyes glassy and cheeks sunken in was a shock and emotions and tears flowed freely. But, we are glad that Ramiz got his final wish to die with all of us and to celebrate a life which in passing was wonderful, warm, giving and happy. 

When you have known someone that long, his death is like a part of the self is afflicted.

There are so many of you out there who interacted with him and benefitted from his time, words and sincerity. It is time to return that hard work of a well spent life.  Send some gratitude back towards him.

Please pray that Allah (swt) grant him maghfirat and Jannah. Ameen.