Rehman Sahib

After 35 or so miles, most trains going south from Delhi stop at a station called Palwal. Now part of the state of Haryana, Palwal belonged to undivided Punjab before 1947. In 1947, a 17-year-old youth named Ibn Abdur Rehman, raised in or around Palwal, left with his family for Pakistan. 

Three days ago, on 12 April, I. A. Rehman, which is how he became known, died in Lahore of -- his family said -- “old age, diabetes and blood pressure”. He was 90, and it appears that he died sitting in a chair, having finished breakfast. 

But Pakistanis who knew or read him are unable to reconcile themselves to his demise. They weren’t ready to lose this human rights champion, veteran journalist and columnist who was always speaking up in defence of those targeted by hate and greed.

Among the papers he worked with during a journalistic career of 65 years were the daily Pakistan Times, the periodicalViewpoint, and Dawn, the daily which has been carrying Rehman’s weekly column for decades. 

In 2005, I asked Rehman Sahib (as I called him) about his early years. His father, he said, was a Muslim League sympathizer but he himself was inclined to be pro-Congress and against the partition demand. For enlightenment, he was sent by the father to Aligarh (which lay 40 or so miles east of Palwal) but was hurriedly summoned home. Rioting had begun. 

Like hundreds of thousands of families on both sides of a suddenly carved border, Rehman’s family was forced to leave home, flee to the other side, and start life all over again, from scratch. His ancestors, Rehman Sahib told me, were of Baloch stock. Apparently they first came to the Delhi region with Humayun in the 1550s, when Babur’s son regained the Mughal throne. Balochis who had been “disappeared” were among the great many of all ethnicities and religions in Pakistan for whose rights and lives Rehman would spend the rest of his life. No human being was unimportant to him, and Pakistan’s Hindu and Christian minorities were of special concern. In any history that might be recorded of South Asian warriors for human rights, I. A. Rehman and his magnificent colleague. Asma Jahangir, who died in February 2018, will surely find a central place. 

Along with Dr. Mubashir Hassan (born in Panipat, Haryana), who died a year ago, Rehman Sahib and Asma-ji stood and marched in the front rank of fighters for human rights in Pakistan. They marched also for another risky goal: friendship between India and Pakistan. Whether this goal is more hazardous today for Pakistanis or Indians is not easy to say. 

Many others in both countries have stood and marched with the three I have named. Many more have cheered quietly or from a distance. Not everyone may be called “an icon”, “a mentor” or “the conscience”, which are some of the phrases used for Rehman Sahib in Pakistani comments after his passing. Nonetheless, each and every person rooting for justice and mutual respect is a blessing in today’s world. 

I conversed with Rehman Sahib frequently and in several places including in Lahore, in the office of the non-governmental Human Rights Commission that he had helped found, and in Delhi, which he often visited in hopes of furthering India-Pak understanding. 

Rehman Sahib took his goals seriously and himself lightly. He joked freely about others, too, but never with contempt in his eyes. He had many opponents, but I doubt that he had enemies. Human beings hounded or punished because they were poor or weak, or came from the wrong community, became his tireless concern. People like me are fortunate for having known Rehman Sahib.