Departures
By Mowahid Hussain Shah

Underlying the grab and greed race and routine of modern existence is a delusional sense of living for a thousand years. A jolting reminder then comes along that tenures are temporary and departures are inevitable.
One such departure in Islamabad was of an old friend. Syed Hamid Ali was a 13-year-old Delhi-born boy when he and his mother opted to leave India and choose Lahore as their abode. But not before witnessing the inaugural cricket Test match between Pakistan and India during October 1952 at Feroze Shah Kotla cricket ground at Delhi, where he had the unique privilege of seeing speed-merchant Khan Mohammed clean bowl Roy and Mankad to take Pakistan’s first two Test wickets. Decades later, when Hamid Ali was posted as a staffer in the Pakistan High Commission in London, he surprised Khan Mohammed with this anecdote in front of Pakistani High Commissioner Shahryar Khan, who later on became head of the Pakistan Cricket Board.
Hamid Ali was a living encyclopedia of a vanished era of the early days of Pakistan cricket where, to a great extent, feats of its players defined Pakistan’s identity on the international stage. He assiduously maintained a black notebook recording vital statistics and paid particular attention to the “Little Master”, Hanif, and the’60’s stylist Saeed Ahmed.
He would be seen regularly in the British Council at Lahore scouring the Times of London and was a ubiquitous presence at matches played at Lahore, with a small circle around him listening attentively to what he had to say. He disarmed people with his openhearted peals of laughter and infectious humor.
One of his happiest moments was when he managed to have a session in Lahore with John Woodcock, the doyen of cricket journalists, special correspondent of the London Times, when he was there to cover England’s tour in 1973.
Friendship with Hamid was non-transactional, devoid of envy or avarice, and always generous in his hospitality and admiration of talent. He would never hesitate to spontaneously fete a friend to karahi chicken at Lahore’s cinema row at Abbott Road.
Hamid was a connoisseur of music, old cinema, and English literature. For example, he would know that the music of the 1949 Partition film, “Lahore”, was composed by Shyam Sunder.
During blazing summer afternoons of ’70s Lahore, every Thursday he used to be a stalwart presence at the YMCA on the Mall, where the admirable Mr Fali Engineer (founder of TM in Pakistan and father of renowned artist, Jimmy Engineer) used to convene Theosophical meetings where he would invite some of the wisest minds in Lahore to give a talk.
Hamid’s last years, health-wise, were tough, made more so when he lost his steadfast companion and wife, Mujahida. But he never lost his characteristic sense of humor. Meeting him was never dour, always refreshing.
Self-awareness enabled him to appreciate life, without hurting anyone. He didn’t let illness limit his zest or to define him and retained his heart-winning easy informality. Till the end he persevered.
In a society prone to being bedazzled by riches, Hamid Ali showed that what matters is being rich in character.