Remembering Tariq
Tariq's demise was a most wrenching piece of news. We had known each other for more than 50 years (he joined St. Greg's when we were in Grade 5). Though our contact was not always regular, we had remained in touch and, over the last several years, we had joyfully reconnected after a longish gap.
There are so many memories of him I fondly cherish. I remember that in Grade 5 when Nicholas Rozario Sir (our scout master) had asked us what we had wanted to be when we grow up, Tariq had said he wanted to be the Secretary General of the UN. I remember him as part of a small group of college students who routinely met to discuss "intellectual" issues, and his contributions were consistently quiet but substantive, unlike many of us who were more boisterous but less informed.
I remember the graciousness with which he and his wife had received me when I had stayed with them for a weekend in DC many years back. I remember his jovial concern that his daughter was turning into a Republican and that she must have a talk with Uncle Ahrar to set her right. I remember his warm words of encouragement and support when he had learned about the health challenges that my wife was undergoing.
I remember his last note to me a few months back when he had appeared a bit exhausted, as well as a bit philosophical, in addressing the issue of his ailments. His frustration was evident when he wrote "my body has apparently developed an incorrigible fondness for hospital beds. It is definitely against my wishes." He expressed some anxiety about an impending surgical procedure, and decried the wonders of "medical science" that was, at once, both cocky and uncertain. He concluded his note with these lines: "So I thought I would touch base with you before the pace of my infirmities become even more rapid. The only source of solace seems to be that the world around is deteriorating even faster than I am … Ahrar, if I survive the abuse of men and machines, then I will get back in touch with you." Unfortunately, he never did, not even to respond to my reply. I curse myself today for not following up on that silence, and not probing the situation with more urgency and compassion. I know he will forgive me. I find it difficult, right now, to forgive myself.
But, more than any event or incident, I remember Tariq's presence -- his nimble intellect, his enlightened world-view, his eclectic range of interests, his gentle demeanour, his moral convictions, and his utter, authentic humility. In an age that rewards clever self-merchandisers and opportunistic agenda-hustlers, he had remained stubbornly, defiantly, beguilingly, just himself. You HAD to take the trouble to discover him, because he was surely not going to announce himself to you. Given his naturally self-effacing nature, he could never bring himself to inform anybody about his formidable academic credentials or his ample professional accomplishments or his illustrious family background. One would have to forage around with some dedication to extract any of that, and the process, and the delight, would be well worth the effort.
He is one of the first in our batch to leave us permanently. He was also one of our best, his imprint all the more impressive in spite of, or perhaps because of, his touch being so light and delicate. Tariq was the kind of a person who made the world a better place just by being around. Obviously, he did much more than that. Perhaps, someday, someone will write a fuller appreciation. At this despairing and solemn moment all I can manage to do is simply join his family, and numerous others, in mourning this untimely and grievous loss.
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