An iconic man

Iqbal Haider: The story of an extraordinary life

More than 40 days on, and the blistering sense of shock has not eased one bit. Nothing can ever prepare you for the loss of a parent. But, when it happens so unexpectedly, the emotional disorientation caused by the suddenness of losing a loved one leaves you reeling for what feels like an eternity.

My father, Syed Iqbal Haider, passed away on the 11th of November, 2012, in Karachi, due to lung failure. Anyone who knew him would tell you that his was an extraordinary life lived by a truly remarkable person.

As a political activist, Iqbal Haider had the courage to face severe hardships and make personal sacrifices for the betterment of his country. As twice federal minister, attorney general of Pakistan and one of the closest companions of Shaheed Benazir Bhutto, Iqbal Haider was best known for his humility, honesty and integrity and, above all, for not compromising on his principles – consequences be damned. As a champion of human rights, he spoke bluntly and loudly against the strongest of people and institutions. He was known to fear no one. And as a father, who amongst all the chaos in his life also had to provide for his family, he gave us the most invaluable gifts any parent could ever give his children: the best education he could afford and a lesson in how to live life without compromising on values and principles.

Abbu, as we called him, had a keen eye for detail and a real sense of appreciation for all the fine things in life. He would wow endlessly over the lightness of fine porcelain cups, the beauty of a particular painting, the feel of fine fabric and the joy of being served well cooked meals in beautiful tableware. At the same time, he had an unusually great capacity to rough it out and the passion and strength of his convictions kept his spirits alive in the most punishing circumstances.

During the Zia-ul-Haq days, Abbu was a vigorously active and outspoken member of the Movement for Restoration of Democracy (MRD) and played an instrumental role in MRD’s struggle against the military regime. Seen as a ‘trouble maker’ by the dictatorial regime, he was often whisked off to jail. I recall the night raids when vans full of armed police contingent would barge into our house at late hours to arrest him. If these visits caught him in the middle of his dinner, he would nonchalantly ask them to put their guns down and have a seat while he finished eating and showering. Like a good host, he would courteously offer tea to the rather baffled SHO leading the operation who, by the time Abbu was ready to leave, would be looking visibly guilty for having to take him away.

I remember our scheduled visits to Central Jail, Karachi, with our mother. His glowing smile and the excitement in his eyes on seeing us belied any signs of hardship which his increasingly lean frame spoke of.

Mr Mairaj Mohammad Khan, the iconic leader of MRD spoke about Abbu at a recently held memorial by Joint Action Committee at the Karachi Press Club and fondly remembered how Iqbal was the power house of energy and excitement – even when in jail. His high spirits and his zeal for their common struggle for restoring democracy in Pakistan helped keep the morale of other political prisoners flying high. True to his style, he had endeared himself to the jail wardens who would sometimes let him sneak out of his ward and, with a spring in his feet, Iqbal would visit political prisoners in other cells, boosting their morale as he went along.

Abbu’s friends adoringly called him ‘Groovy’, in the diplomatic circles of Islamabad he was known as the ‘Diplomat’s Darling’, and at family gatherings he was ‘Judge Chacha’ – the noisy, jolly Pied Piper with a trail of hysterical children and pets following him everywhere he went. His arrival would instantly up the excitement levels by several decibels at any gathering. In any family he knew, he had individual friendships with all generations of the household. On the political front, such was the goodwill and respect he enjoyed, that his party often nominated him to negotiate with the other side of the aisle on parliamentary matters.

Yes, we all knew that he passionately fought against injustice and never tired from speaking the truth, but few knew that he had selflessly devoted a very large part of his legal practice to pro bono cases, and had, without a second thought, often turned away many sought after cases which he felt would compromise his principles.

Yes, we knew that he was the voice of many faceless victims of injustice and human rights violations, but what this meant in real terms we realised only when we met in person the innumerable individuals and families whose lives he had bettered. They came to us, inconsolable and looking lost. Each narrated a unique story of how Iqbal Haider had helped them, how he had stood by them, protected them, took on their problem as if it was his own, and when no one would spare the time to meet them, he devoted himself to ensuring that he got them justice. They came to us, not to condole our loss, but to weep over their own loss. Person after person, the question was the same: now what about us? Who will fight for our rights? Who will protect us?

Iqbal Haider’s political struggle, his unwavering dedication to human rights causes and his sheer anger at all that is wrong with our society, all stemmed from one source: his love for his country, Pakistan. So firm was he in his commitment to better his country, that for him no challenge was too great and no cause was too small to justify inaction.

The numerous awards being conferred upon Iqbal Haider, the reference, memorials and prayers which continue to be held within and outside Pakistan, gives us, his family, some comfort in knowing that his sacrifices and hard work did not go unacknowledged. As the curtains fall on his life, we are proud that our nation has honoured Iqbal Haider with a thunderous standing ovation for being a true son of the soil, the purpose of who’s life was one and one alone: to serve Pakistan and its people, with all his heart, and to his final breath.

The writer is a lawyer and a human rights activist. Email: [email protected]