Farewell to Fazal
Many
years ago, a movie, “My Favorite
Year” was released, starring Hollywood
great Peter O’ Toole. 1954 was
the year depicted in the movie. 1954,
too, resonates in the imagination of
many a Pakistani as a favorite year.
It was when Pakistan came of age globally
on and beyond the boundary of a cricket
field. The man responsible was none
other than the debonair blue-eyed policeman
Fazal Mahmood who put the might of England
– arguably its greatest 20th century
side – on the mat. He had the
ability to run through a batting line-up
– a quality lacking in current
Pakistani bowlers.
Fifty years ago, it was Fazal who was
emblematic of the hopes of the young
nation and symbolized its youthful determination
and defiance. Now, 50 years later, on
a pleasantly sunny last day of May,
a funeral procession carried Fazal on
his last journey through the streets
of Lahore where he had been born, bred,
and much loved. The mourners were mercifully
bereft of the darbari who, to score
points, flock to sirkari funerals.
Fazal’s matinee idol charisma
during the 1950’s impelled the
great Indian movie director Mehboob
to offer him a role opposite screen
legend Dilip Kumar in the blockbuster
‘Aan’. Despite being constantly
mobbed by a legion of female admirers,
Fazal, paradoxically, led a remarkably
chaste life.
Such was Fazal’s confidence in
his own ability that he was never deterred
by the huge reputation of his great
opponents like Hutton, Compton, May,
Graveney, Harvey, Miller, Hazare, Amarnath,
Walcott, Weekes, Sobers and Kanhai.
His will to win was contagious, spurring
Pakistan to a sequence of remarkable
wins against India, England, Australia
and West Indies.
Fazal paid his dues for Pakistan. He
was selected for the All-India side
which toured Australia just after partition
in 1947. Fazal declined, having opted
for Pakistan, missing thus the historic
chance to bowl to Bradman.
His great contemporary and friend of
over 60 years, Imtiaz, told me that
Fazal’s departure has left behind
a huge void of loneliness. Ditto for
those who grew up hearing on radio the
inimitable voice of Omar Qureshi describing
Fazal running into bowl with the expectation
of flying stumps.
Kardar, Fazal, Imtiaz and Hanif formed
the quartet which made Pakistan cricket.
Today’s youth, which is swift
to lapse into despondency and despair,
would do well to ponder how those four
men stood up and fought for Pakistan,
often against overwhelming odds. They
did not quit the fight.
Fazal, a child of the Pakistani movement,
knew what Pakistan was all about. His
father, Prof. Ghulam Hussain, was my
father’s Economics teacher at
Islamia College, Lahore, which was then
the hub of the Pakistan Movement. Fazal
used to tell me of a visit of the Quaid
to Islamia College where Quaid had exhorted
the students: “Boys, this is the
month of March, let’s march, let’s
march”. He was similarly inspired
by Iqbal and constantly quoted: “Khudi
Na Bech, Ghareebi Mein Naam Paida Kar”
(Make your mark through simple living
without compromising self-esteem). Fazal
did just that.
Fazal continued to live in an unpretentious
house in Lahore’s Garhi Shahu
neighborhood. His most prized possession
there was a black couch gifted to his
father by Allama Iqbal. A few faded
photographs offered glimpses of the
pre-video glory days. There was also
tragedy. Some years ago, Fazal lost
his eldest son to renal failure, to
be followed later by the death of his
son-in-law through cardiac arrest. There
was a gleam in the old warrior’s
eye, however, whenever he recounted
the past and rolled back the years.
Fazal never parlayed his fame for any
political or personal gain. As a senior
police officer, he was noted for his
probity and uprightness. During the
twilight of his life, he had become
quite devout even to the extent of going
to the mosque and chanting the Fajr
azan.
Fazal belonged to a vanished era when
the values of pride and passion of performing
for Pakistan superseded those of pelf
and plunder.
I was fortunate to have known him. When
he first came to see me at my office,
I walked him outside to see him off.
I discovered that he had been given
a ride on the back of a motorcycle.
In an acquisitive culture of display
and of material pomp, it was a salutary
reminder where true greatness actually
lay – not through possessions
but through the steadfast upholding
of the virtues of simple living and
lofty thinking.
Fazal was one of Pakistan’s first
authentic national heroes. The legacy
of Fazal shall outlive many a temporary
inhabitant of power.
