IA Rehman the non-conformist humanitarian
“Whoever controls the media, controls the mind” Jim Morrison.
On an oppressive August day back in 1986, after shifting from Karachi to Lahore, my husband took me to the offices of the Viewpoint magazine at 4A Lawrence Road to meet his former colleagues. The very first question Mr IA Rehman [Ibn Abdur Rehman, popularly known as Rehman Sahib] asked me, with that signature twinkle in his eyes was, “So, how is Lahore treating you?” One single question, yet so full of hospitality, concern and above all, camaraderie, that it swept me off my feet. That singular brush with this titan of print media journalism left me awestruck. He appeared to be the most unassuming character, someone who could easily pass for a ‘commoner’ in a crowd while keeping his larger-than-life personality intact. As many others have said before me, Rehman Sahib was the kind of person whom one could proudly introduce – not just as a prominent professional –
Zubeida Mustafa
ONE aspect of I.A. Rehman’s priceless legacy was his restless spirit that drove him to champion the cause of freedom and human rights in Pakistan. The huge community of human rights activists in the country drew inspiration from his rational and encouraging leadership.
Many of us his juniors were constantly turning to him to draw from his limitless pool of knowledge and saw him as a pillar of strength. In the gloom that followed his death I felt comforted when I received a book of poetry that resonated with me. It touched the same causes Rehman Sahib had inspired us to espouse. Titled Eik Subh Aur Aaygi and containing 103 poems by Anis Haroon, the book is a powerful statement on the sad state of human rights in Pakistan that has brought the country to the brink of a catastrophe.
Daily Times
May 2, 2021
Those were the days of sullen, stupefying silence and despair for the Left, the apocalyptical signs of the Soviet Union’s meltdown were evident. Dizzy heads, bruised hearts, sorrow-scorched bosoms, and unfathomable grief ailed the Marxists. Struggles of decades and sacrifices of millions looked meaningless, and dreams of a better and just world were killed, hope was slain. It was the holocaust of time. Borrowing an expression from Faiz, “the hour was the moment of mourning”.
On that sombre evening, a public gathering was held in the City Council hall, graced by Mr IA Rehman and Mr Nisar Osmani, two giants of the era. When the curtain on the meeting was almost drawn, a young man’s itch unsettled him. He sought permission to be on the stage to pay homage to the glory of the workers’ state in death throes. Silence prevailed, finding the sages in two minds, he went up the stage. His English poem or whatever hammered Gorbachev and his Perestroika. Once
The writer is Dawn’s correspondent in Delhi.
SOMETHING in I.A. Rehman Rehman Sahib to his followers reminded me of the old-school communists who shunned the know-it-all airs and spoke simply and lucidly on complex issues of history or science or politics without intimidating the listener. I would meet him often in Delhi either on Syeda Saiyedain’s manicured lawns or at a packed lecture overflowing with fans or an occasional music concert where he would dissolve himself into a different world.
One day he was in a hurry to catch the plane to Lahore but still found the time to run through Khan Market’s stores for gifts for his grandchildren. In a shawl store, I introduced him to Priyanka Gandhi who was buying a sweater for her maid. In that half-minute exchange, she said she was aware of his work for human rights and was proud to meet him. Rehman Sahib wasted no time to remind her to do more to save India’s democracy from militarism and poverty. That was years ago.
An anarchy foretold
April 18, 2021
There was, I sense, some providential message in the juxtaposition of I A Rehman’s death with that savage disorder across Pakistan. Rehman Sahib left us on Monday morning and many of his friends and admirers were unable to attend his funeral late that evening because roads were blocked by violent mobs and an intimation of anarchy was in the air.
This was what prescient observers like Rehman Sahib had clearly seen coming. We ought to be aware of where those mobs had come from and how such dark passions were injected into their barren minds. Here was a graphic illustration of the existential crisis of Pakistan: a critical conflict between liberal and orthodox forces and ideas.