When a Dear Friend Departs
By Dr Syed Amir
Bethesda, MD

 

In ancient Rome, when a General returned after a great victory, he was lionized and honored with a celebratory parade; however, as he rode in the cavalcade, a slave would run alongside whispering in his ear “Remember you are mortal.” For most of us, reminders of the transient nature of life come naturally and relentlessly, without the help of any slave whisperer.

Dr. Khurshid Alam Khan, former director, publication division, Pakistan Council of Scientific and Industrial Research Karachi (PCSIR), my lifelong friend, died unexpectedly on May 25, 2021. The loss has been especially grievous as with him have gone a lifetime of memories of joys and sorrows, of good times and bad. As we traverse life’s journey, we go through discreet stages. In childhood, time seems frozen, stretching forever. As we age, accumulating memories on the way, it seems to speed up. And those of us blessed with long life are also cursed to endure the loss of close relations and friends.

Khurshid and I got to know each other as class fellows at Aligarh Muslim University (AMU), in the early fifties. The University drew an eclectic mix of students. Many who came from Rohilkhand districts of UP were notorious for their inclination to get into fights. Because of his genial temperament, no one could guess that Khurshid came from that same region and was indeed a Pathan.

Unknown to either of us, we emigrated to Pakistan about the same time. In Karachi, I joined the newly created Pakistan Council of Scientific and Industrial Research (PCSIR), established under the leadership of Dr. Salimuzzaman Siddiqui, a pioneering, internationally recognized scientist. He imbued a sense of mission and enthusiasm among young investigators. One day, soon after I joined, I saw Khurshid walk in, he was a newly hired junior scientist, like me. The Karachi laboratories at the time had a cluster of young scientists, all drawn from AMU. We earned little money but were carefree, with no family responsibilities. After work, Khurshid and I would frequently roam the then fashionable Saddar area of Karachi, frequenting Café George and Café Parisian, both now extinct. Life seemed like an unending party.

Shortly afterwards, I got a grant from the Government to pursue graduate studies in England and enrolled at the University of Birmingham. A year and a half later, Khurshid got a similar grant and although he was planning to go to another university, I persuaded him to come to Birmingham. In this way, we reconnected once again. Khurshid adjusted quickly to this new environment, the cold damp climate of England. He had a remarkably affable personality and made friends easily. Occasionally, fellow students invited him to spend a weekend with their families, a rare occurrence as the English people tended to be reserved and formal.

Once an English friend invited us both and a few others to his parent’s farm in the countryside for high tea. He also arranged a car to drive us and bring us back. Then we had an unwelcome excitement. On the way, we got involved in a nasty accident. Someone ran into us full speed. the impact overturning our car, which landed on its roof. We were badly shaken, but miraculously none of us was seriously hurt. We were given a ride to the farm by the policeman who had come to investigate the accident, where we had a very enjoyable time.

In my student days in England, we usually rented a room in someone else’s house near the university. Central heating was rare, and we had to feed coins into an electric heater to keep warm. To save money, we would spend much time at the university which did have central heating. Christmas time was especially hard on foreign students as the university and its dining facilities were closed. We found an escape route, however. The Pakistan High Commission maintained a modest student hostel in London which was heated and had a cafeteria offering Pakistani cuisine. Importantly, the charges were low and affordable. It was managed by a kind old English lady. Occasionally arguments broke out when some students showed up without prior reservations and insisted to being accommodated.

Khurshid and I spent several Christmases at the hostel and despite its rudimentary facilities, it was a pleasure to be in a centrally heated accommodation. We met many interesting people staying at the hostel. Once we even saw Sir Zaffar Ullah Khan, Pakistan’s former foreign minister, lounging alone on a couch in the basement. Christmas day itself presented special problems. The hostel cafeteria was closed, and London gave the look of desolation. It was a struggle to find a place to eat, and I recall both of us wandering around Piccadilly Circus looking for food .. Only an odd wimpy bar would be open.

Khurshid was the only child of his parents and had become an orphan at a young age. He was very conscious that his mother, who loved him unreservedly, depended on him entirely. Following the completion of his PhD dissertation, he stayed on for another year in England to work on a different field of research. Mostly, out of concern for his mother, he decided to return to Pakistan. Otherwise, there were ample job opportunities with the pharmaceutical companies in England which were desperately seeking fresh PhDs.

Back at PCSIR, he set up his own laboratory. I followed him shortly thereafter. Unfortunately, research facilities at PCSIR had deteriorated during the six years of my stay abroad. At lunch, Khurshid and I used to lament the lack of adequate research facilities, while ruminating about our experiences at Birmingham University. I left Pakistan after three years to come to the US, but Khurshid stayed on at PCSIR until his retirement at age 60. In the meantime, he climbed to one of the highest positions at the institution, becoming a division director. He visited the US several times, since he had two daughters in Texas, and several brothers-in-law in Maryland.

In early May, Khurshid and Husna, his wife, came to visit their daughters in Houston. I was looking forward to their usual visit later to Maryland. I agonized over what places we could visit this year, given the rampant Covid-related restrictions. Khurshid had never shown any signs of ill health, but appearances can be so beguiling. He suffered cardiac arrest in the night and passed away peacefully in a hospital a few days later. As it turned out, I never needed to worry about the places to take him as he was destined to go to a higher and nobler place. (To God we belong and to Him we shall return: Sura 2:156)

(Dr Syed Amir is a former Assistant Professor, Harvard Medical School, and a health science administrator, US National Institutes of Health)