Abdul Latif Khalid (1944-2007)

While I had thought about it many times, nothing could have prepared me for the immense tragedy that awaited me that December evening. My father’s sudden demise at only 63 years of age through a massive heart attack has been by far the most profound life experience I have had to endure, surprising me as to how deep this wound struck and yet how one has no choice but to continue in this life. Contrary to what I had previously anticipated in countless times I had thought about losing my parents, this utterly shattering event opened no Pandora’s Box of spiritual questions but rather it laid to rest the irrational and illogical fears I had harbored since childhood. It had to be my father, my guide and mentor through out, who would put an end to this agony by bringing to life my worst nightmare. It is one of those pains that worsen everyday and the sense of loss continues as life comes back to normal. Such is the nature of death.

Contrary to what people might like to believe, greatness has nothing to do with how many people know the person who passed away but how much of a difference that person makes in anyone individual’s life. My father, Mr. Abdul Latif Khalid or Latif Sb as he was more commonly known, was not a politician or a great scholar or a celebrity, though he could have been all those things, but he was perhaps the greatest person I’ve met. A constant theme amongst the mourners, who numbered in thousands, if not tens of thousands, was how all of them felt orphaned by his demise. His impact on his family – both close and extended- was larger than life. Ever since my grandfather’s passing 20 years ago, he had managed an endless line of relatives who came to him seeking his guidance. Additionally he took on his shoulders the responsibility not just of the orphans within the family but also those of his late friends and even his servants and drivers. It was no wonder that an employee at M/s Latif Motors remained an employee for life. Perhaps the most genuine emotion of grief I saw was in the eyes of those who had worked for him. It broke me to see the guard of our lane completely shattered by his demise.

Mr. Abdul Latif Khalid was born November 19th 1944 in Mughalpura Lahore. He was the second son of the prominent Ahmadi leader Maulvi Abdul Hakim Ahmadi (1914-1987), the head of the Jamaat-e-Ahmaddiya Mughal Pura. Educated in St. Anthony’s and later Don Bosco High School in Lahore, he took up flying as a career with the Lahore Flying Club. A promising career met tragedy when owing to his continuous problems with kidney stones he was forced out of flying for good. He then built up from scratch Latif Motors, one of the better known names today amongst automobile traders of Lahore. He married twice and had three children. I was the youngest.

It would be a mistake to think of him as a mere businessman though. He had a keen interest in everything though politics, cricket and music – like many in Pakistan and the rest of the subcontinent- held his fancy. He taught me to respect Jinnah and Bhutto, two leaders he had absolute faith in and tried to emulate at least in the way he dressed; almost everyone who came to remember him commented on his “khush-libasi”, be it his shalwar kameezes or his elegant suits. Politically though while most Ahmadis remember Jinnah fondly because of the strong stance he took in their favor and because he never betrayed them, my father’s admiration for Bhutto was frowned upon by his community. Perhaps this admiration had something to do with the long drive to Rabwa when Bhutto chose to ride in my father’s car. It is a little known fact that the Jamaat Ahmaddiya had actively contributed to and supported Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s 1970 campaign. The fact that Bhutto was responsible for initiating the misery of Ahmadis for petty politics did not deter him from voting for Pakistan People’s Party repeatedly (except for 2002 when he voted for Imran Khan’s Tehreek-e-Insaaf), flouting boycott called by the Jamaat Ahmaddiya. It was probably because like most Ahmadis, my father viewed himself a Muslim first and then Ahmadi. In Bhutto’s Islamic Summit conference, he saw a genuine effort towards global Muslim unity. In what were to be his last days, he was perturbed by what he viewed as Benazir Bhutto’s betrayal of her father’s ideals. Ironically this is precisely what has attracted me to the PPP, i.e. BB’s willingness to undo her father’s wrongs.

In cricket, he was a vociferous supporter of the Pakistani Cricket Team. He spent his last day watching the final test match between Pakistan and India. Apparently he was disappointed at Mohammed Yusuf getting out before lunch. In fact, a few months earlier I had called him after Pakistan’s defeat to India in the final of the twenty-20 world championship just to check if he did not suffer a heart attack. The heart attack was to come a few months later at a time he was quite peaceful and content. Imran Khan was his favorite cricketer. He believed in Imran both on and off the field, especially in philanthropy and politics.

Music and films were his greatest passions though. He had an intimate knowledge of the Ragas and appreciated good classical music as well as old Indian and Pakistani film music. In addition to being a first rate flyer, he was known for his singing talent during his days at the Lahore Flying Club. This talent extended both in and out of the club house, so much so that it got him into trouble during his first solo when he, out of sheer excitement of winning his wings, started singing a Rafi number into his mike with a frequency on which the control tower could hear him. When he returned to base, he was severely reprimanded for it by his instructor. His soul was poetic: he loved Ghalib and Faiz, was thrilled by Jalib and moved by Saqib Zeervi. "Mujh sey pehli see mohabbat meray mahboob" was his personal anthem.

In films Indian beauty Madhubala was his favorite actress of all times followed by Nargis, Nimi and Hema Malini. A friend reminded me the other day of his admiration for Madhuri Dixit but I think that had more to do with Madhuri’s similarities with Madhubala. He idolized Dilip Kumar and was more than an ordinary fan of Amitabh Bachan. He also liked actor Muhammad Ali, who he had befriended. One of the things we found in his drawer was a cut out piece from Dawn of an interview with Muhammad Ali’s wife Zeba after Muhammad Ali’s death about how much she missed him. He was moved enough to cut it out and preserve it.

In older heroes still he admired Bharat Bhushan from India and Lala Sudhir from Pakistan. In his early days, the famous film producer Naqshab had convinced him to debut in a film but when he broke the news to his mother, the reprimand was so severe that he gave up the idea altogether. But his passion for movies was never ending. Later he produced a rather impressive Punjabi flick called “Yaar Badhsah”, a story about a young wrestler. However this too he had to give up because of the bad name it was bringing his father within the Ahmaddiya community. The movies that I assume were his favorites were Basant Bahar, Aan, Mughal-e-Azam, Devdas (the Dilip version), Kabhi Kabhi and more recently Baghbaan.

Prithviraj’s role as Akbar the Great in Mughal-e-Azam had a profound effect on him. He idolized Akbar, as shown in the film, as the epitome of what a great man ought to be: strong, decisive and without unnecessary emotionalism. As an avid reader of Mughal history, he disliked Aurangzeb not for any other reason but that he blinded his father and kept him confined. No amount of religious piety or other virtues could make up for that horrible crime, he thought. He would repeat the story again and again in front of me. Perhaps he suspected I would treat him badly once he grew old. We will never know because he never gave me a chance to show him what kind of a son I would prove to be.

His was a life well lived. In the end that is all that matters. May you rest in peace Baba and may your name live on forever.