Murshad Arshad Warraich
One day, January 30th to be precise, I got a rather terse email from Shakeel, "Gondal ,Murshad Dr Arshad has died yesterday in Jahanian. No child behind except widow. b/c of excess intake of methylated sprit. Shakeel"
It left me stunned for a long while. I could not believe it, really did not want to believe it; but it was right there in front of my eyes. Shakeel is the anchorman of our class. He is the one who keeps tab on everybody. And I mean everybody. He knows about the ones no one else would know. It was the collective good luck of our class, N28 as we are called, that he is stationed at Nishtar. A few years back when it was time for our Silver Jubilee, he was instrumental in getting everybody on board. He fished out long lost class mates no matter what part of the world they had slowly drifted to. No, he could not be wrong, Murshid must be gone. And the story, sadly did not seem too far from what really may happen with him.
He may not have been spotted out by Guinness Books scouts, Murshad had broken the record for the longest tenure as a medical student. Enrolled with us in 1979, (actually the session started in Sept 78 but classes were postponed till ZA Bhutto was hanged) he finally graduated in 2007. I do not think that Mian Ahsan Bari or Mian Rashid( now a Principal of a government medical college) can beat that. Murshad took almost twenty nine years to finish medical school.
And now he is not there any more. Too bad.
It was middle of the day and I was commuting form one place of work to another. My thoughts flew back to those sultry days of 1979 Multan summer when I first met him. He was a rather quite individual, easily recognized to be from a small agrarian town, intrigued by a big city but not intimidated by it. A zamindar Jat to the core, born in Gurjat and lived most of his life in Jahanian. We both found ourselves living in the Student Union office, thanks to the housing conditions in those days. The Liberals were in power in the Student Union and we were accommodated in its 'Union Office" situated right in the middle of the western wall of the Quadrangle, the educational block of the college. It was a prized location as it was directly opposite Rafida Hall, the girl's hostel. Arshad and I became acquainted quite early. He could easily make you feel relaxed and open up. Because of that, despite his quite demenear, he had a lot of friends.
He was a very relaxed man. He would always make a light joke at the end of every conversation and no matter how serious would be the discussion at hand, he would make you laugh. Not very fond of the Madam Tahira Bukhari's Dissection Hall and the smoke drums of Baba Gulzar, we both used to hang out and experiment with nicotine et al during the time rest were honing their skills with scalpels and action potentials. With time his sufiana mystic attitude on life and detached way of living earned him the title of Murshad. His seniority as a chronic student augmented his image as such.
Early on, he had befriended a class fellow from Jhang and they shared a separate room in next to the student union's office. Their friendship, grew with time and was the topic of discussion all the times among friends and foes. The guy form Jhang was an attractive zoftig fella, wide eyed, and had a melodious voice. I heard Rafi's song,, mujhe ishq hay tuijhi say meri jaane zindagani' from him for the first time. Phiki pay gayi chun tarian di lo was his another hit item. Many seniors used that as an excuse to come to Students' Union and request him to sing. At those times, it was a joy to watch Arshad enjoying the songs and the music. Full of nicotine and smoke to the deepest alveoli, he transcended easily to a different world. Their bond was strong and got stronger by the day.
I left Nishtar in the third year of the medical college. I kept on hearing about him and occasionally met him when I visited Multan. He had difficult time keeping up with his class he slowly lagged behind in studies. After his close friend migrated to Lahore, it was harder for him to continue. At least that was the conclusion of many. He had rough time with the people of authority and took a long scenic route to the finishing line. He ultimately graduated in 2007. On one of my trips to Pakistan in late 2007 I visited him with Shakeel in the old District Hospital Multan. He was doing his housejob. His ward registrar was fifteen years his junior.
After finishing housejob, which he finished one way or the other, he moved back to his native Jahanian. He ultimately fond attraction in the softer gender, got married and worked in a Basic Health Unit. A few years back I heard that the class-fellow from Jhang, suddenly passed away after having a big meal at a wedding. Coronary event? Perhaps yes. I thought it must be devastating for Arshad.
What do you do when someone you feel close to is gone and there is no family member of his who is close to you. In fact you do not know any of his family. You grieve with whom you have shared memories of the deceased. Later in the day I called Shakeel and we offered condolence to each other. I was planning to go to Pakistan later in the Spring and expressed the desire to go to his hometown. Years earlier Shakeel and I had visited another class mates grave, Masood Bajwa who took his life too early. Another deeply tragic story, for another day.
I asked Shakee. Will he find more about him and get some arrangements made ahead of time. He surely would do. He had gotten this information form a friend who had read the news in the paper. He would get the information about the family of Arshad and his exact date of death.
Three weeks later, I got a pleasant surprise in my mailbox. 'No date of death. Dr Arshad is alive. I talked to him today, Actually there was a quack in the area who died. His name was also Dr Arshad." OOFF. What a relief. I could not imagine the joke played on us.
Perhaps the nature of the news was such that many thought believable but not appropriate as a topic of discussion. Some may have talked it among themselves, but no body felt like being the first one to break the news to others. His brief period of assumed death was kept as a closely guarded open secret.
I got Murshad's number and talked to him. He was aware of the confusion. He told me in his murshidaana way that he did not like the way the life is after death and decided to come back. Main ho aaya aan. میں ہو آیا آں We decided to meet.
He was kind enough to come to Multan when I visited Pakistan. We spend a long evening together with Shakeel and Shikrani, who came from Ahmedpur Sharqia (East). Zafri Shah and Zia Ghani were there too.
Mushad was as thin as ever, his body mass more bones than the muscles Still he had his hairs all KalaKola'ed and looked as old as he looked thirty years back. He was in the beginning of a new relationship with a lady. He said with his signature smile that he was hopeful it will end in matrimony.
I briefly mentioned the classmate form Jhang, and it seemed that he was not aware of what has happened. He thought he has recently spoken with him. I dared not continue that topic with him. What if he really does not know or was it my wrong impression. Either way I did not want to continue that thread with him lest that I would be the first person to mention that.
We ate at the new Shangri-La as the old one is now history. And then he was chauffeured back to Jahanian by a baradri member who doubled as his driver. All this time, Murshad was in his signature calm and relaxed state of mind. Attitude towards life and the hereafter not much affected by the years of scholarship. Holding potent cigarettes between his fingers he could very well live for another lifetime, a day at a time.
Some love affairs never end.
