Faheem sahib … a remembrance

Sajjad Mahmood*

While one often forgets what one is taught at school, there are teachers one cannot. For me, and I believe for all those who took a course or two with him Faheem sahib was one of those.

I first met him in the shivering cold of early 1973. I had just joined the second set of Master’s students admitted to the Institute of Physical Sciences at the University of Islamabad, as the department and the university were then known. He was an unassuming member of the faculty, stopping and chatting with everyone and anyone. Clad in a light blue “awami” suit, a well worn jacket and a tan woolen round cap, he was walking to the campus bus stop. His left hand went around and held a brief case with an absent handle, and with the right he greeted me with a broad smile and an open heart.

During our first year at the campus Faheem sahib while teaching the introductory course on Atomic Physics told us about two differing interpretations of Quantum Mechanics. To us, fresh from what passed as “Modern Physics” in the Bachelors text at the time, nothing made sense anyway. We were impressed by the “minority interpretation” that he presented, more so when he lent his own authentication to it.

When I, along with a couple of others joined the Ph.D. program, it was Faheem sahib who took us to the faculty room and made us join the faculty every week day at 10:30 for tea. To this day those 30 minutes that we enjoyed being accepted by our teachers to sit amongst them remain among the treasured moments for me. The talk at the table ranged from physics to history to poetry with both Faheem and Arif-uz-Zaman sahib leading the discussions.

Faheem sahib stepped in as my thesis supervisor in 1981 when Professor Fayyazuddin was on a leave of absence. We had much more occasion to talk – mostly me venting my frustrations with the office of the Controller of Examinations – and him listening. Soon I would learn though that the latest wrinkle had been smoothed out!

Faheem sahib had also affected my life in a way then unknown to me. During the academic year 1972-73 he was invited to be the chief guest at the Quantum Club at the Gordon College. His presence and the speech that he gave there inspired a host of students to come to the Physics Department in January 1974. Though she moved on to Mathematics, my friend and partner for life, Durray-Shahwar was among them.

Indeed he had inspired many. One of my class mates, Sikandar Azam would testify that he joined the Department at the urging of Faheem sahib after teaching at a Rawalpindi school for a few years. Later Sikandar went on to complete his doctorate in Nuclear Physics from McMaster University, Toronto, Canada. Dr. Rumana Qureshi, who served at the Department of Chemistry (QAU) also initially enrolled in the Physics Department because of Faheem sahib.

Over the years I had the privilege to sit across him at the table in the faculty tearoom, talk about and even play a game, or two of cricket. In the summer of 1983 when I, with a young family traveled to Trieste to take up a post doctoral position, he was there, sitting on the roadside metal fence, waiting for the bus to come in from the airport. His unforgettable smile again beckoning us to an unfamiliar place.

I met Faheem sahib for the last time in January 2008 on a trip to Islamabad. His beard had grayed, but there was not much else that would indicate the number of years gone by. He was as fresh and the smile was as welcoming as ever. We shared a cup of tea and not much more, as he had to fly out that afternoon to Karachi. Later I learned of a heart ailment and his move to Trieste, with a fight against cancer.

This may come as a surprise to some, and may be many, but I do not recall having any in depth discussion with Faheem sahib on ideology. This is not to say that he did not affect my world view – only that he did so not with words, but in the way that he treated fellow humans.

He was a friend not only to his colleagues but to all he came to know. Be it the late Rasheed, the departmental GMO (Gestetner Machine Operator – cyclostyle machine, the precursor to the photocopier) or Malik the bus conductor, every one on campus was treated with utmost respect and everyone responded with love and affection for him. He was on occasion a thorn on the side of the administrators – but that was always for a principle and never personal. He could always disagree without ever being disagreeable.

In one of his last emails he had asked why I always addressed him with a “sahib” appended to his name. What could I tell him? I responded with the excuse of tradition to someone as untraditional as Professor Faheemullah Hussain.

Thus when news of his passing away reached me in 2009 and now whenever I think of him, memory takes me back to that cold January afternoon. Faheem - a light blue “awami” suit, a well worn jacket and a tan wool cap. His left hand going around and holding the briefcase with the broken handle, waving goodbye with his right hand before boarding the bus that took him home – a broad smile on his face.

*Studied and served at the Quaid-i-Azam University, 1973-97.

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