RIP Arshad Sharif!

We never knew that an angel came to our home almost daily. At 10pm, he was there and never stayed a minute after 11pm, promising to meet the next day. Goodbyes were not that hard, as we knew he would be back tomorrow.

He talked his heart out, and we listened to him without a blink. He gave all the news and shared his expert opinion. He knew all the known and unknown of the power corridors. He spoke with passion and consideration. Sometimes he took us along on his adventures.

Sadly one day, we were told he could not come to our place anymore. Somehow he was in danger and had to leave. The connection broke. The worries in our hearts mounted with every passing day. There was no news about him, come what may. No one knew his whereabouts. His family and friends did, but they were too scared to trust us. They didn’t realise the connection we shared. It was deeper than blood, deeper than friendship. It was a connection of trust.

In the midst of darkness, one day, we got a message that time would vary, but he would come and visit us as and when he could. It was a moment of relief for us. We waited eagerly and embraced him with all our hearts when he came. It was not clear where he was, but seeing him regularly was enough to know that he was well. At the same time, something dark was lurking behind. He always wore the same clothes. His complexion was getting paler, and his voice was getting deeper.

The angel was blessed with very expressive eyes, which sparkled with passion, goals and hope in the past. But now, those beautiful eyes had nothing but worries about the unknown. He said someone was after him and would get him sooner or later. He said that he knew a lot and could not sell his soul. He wanted to die with honour and respect.

Our suspicion of something bad, something utterly tragic, something dreadful grew as time passed, but he was far away beyond our reach. Not a day passed, and we prayed for his well-being, life and safety.

One horrific day, news came near dawn that the angel had departed. It came with a wave of grief and pain. Our angel was gone. In disbelief, everyone wished that the news was fake. He was killed in a strange land, surrounded by strangers and in strange circumstances. There was a lull in the air, and the dull echo of despair haunted everyone. Seems like we have been muted, and our voice is gone.

The nation grieved and cried for him like never seen before. We are stunned and may never know why the angel was brutally snatched away from us; why he had to leave and be alone when he needed us the most; why he never trusted us with his worries and never gave us a chance to be his strength.

Did he lose his life for being our voice? Is it impossible to live here with honour and respect? If we find ourselves on the other side of the tide, we cannot be safe anywhere in the world. Why did the flag bearers of freedom of speech and liberty leave him at the mercy of time and turmoil? Will we ever know what actually happened to him? Will we get justice as a nation? Is it our destiny to mourn and move on? Will the blood on the sleeves ever be revealed, or will it always remain hidden? Will we have a voice like him ever again? Is having honour a sin beyond redemption? Will there be any other angel courageous enough to give his life for us? His soul is at rest, but will ours ever be? The questions are more painful than the answers.

The explanation from the people who can give answers is creating more confusion. His last journey was exquisite and majestic. The sky showered flowers as the soil embraced him generously. The nation united in grief as the angel walked gloriously through the gates of heaven.

Published in The Express Tribune, November 5^th, 2022.

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