“So what do I do? Cry?”
When his dog ran over to me while I was sitting with him in his home during an interview, I leapt up in fear and asked if it could be taken away. Cowasjee became angry and exclaimed, “Mullah hai kya?” – File photo courtesy The Herald
It was the first time I was sitting in a fancy convertible Mercedes – that too with a man. So what if he was in his 80s and taking me to a park in Clifton? He was like no other and now he’s gone.
Ardeshir Cowasjee, the boldest man I have ever met, passed away today after trying over and over again – for decades – to talk sense into his fellow Pakistanis. Although everyone will clearly remember his colourful language, distinctive dressing and resilient personality, I wonder how many will realise how important his words were?
“Do you know where Tonga is?” He asked me one day while visiting our newsroom.
Embarrassed, I tried to sneakily check on Google what or where this Tonga place was. After failing to give him an affirmative answer, I shrugged and said no.
“Well find out where Tonga is and then look for a boy there and get married and live far, far away from Pakistan,” he replied with a sad laughter.
For someone who was quick to tell others to leave Pakistan behind and find a better life elsewhere, he was never one to take his own advice.
“Why should I leave it?” He would ask defensively, almost angrily, when one would question him why he stayed back.
“This is my home!” He would snap.
But what about the fact that his beloved city was turning into a fearful lawless state in front of his eyes?
“So what do I do? Cry?” He would respond, once again, the sad laughter accompanying his words.
From 1988 until 2011, Cowasjee wrote weekly for Dawn. Readers hungrily took in his words and marvelled at how brave and sensible this old man was. Whether it was providing financial support to students in the country or waging a verbal war on the enemies of Karachi’s mangroves, Cowasjee was not shy to speak or act.
Born on April 13, 1926, Cowasjee completed his education from the Bai Virbaiji Soparivala Parsi High School and DJ Sindh Govt Science College in Karachi and joined the family business. In 1953, he married Nancy Dinshaw and had two children. His daughter lived with him in an adjoining house while his son is an architect in the US. His wife passed away about 20 years ago.
Despite the small family, Cowasjee didn’t really seem lonely. Outside, he had a city to fight for and at home, he had an assortment of pets keeping him company.
When his dog ran over to me while I was sitting with him in his home during an interview, I leapt up in fear and asked if it could be taken away.
Cowasjee became angry and exclaimed, “Mullah hai kya?”
I sank back into my seat. The dog stayed.
Hearing his stories about Karachi was like listening to someone speak about a city existing in some parallel universe. He spoke about the early days of Karachi with such joy and happiness that it was only natural for the listener to realise the pain he must be going through looking outside his window. However, when Cowasjee spoke of Bhutto, that’s when things got a bit feisty.
In 1976, Bhutto had sent him to prison for 72 days. Each time Cowasjee narrated that story, there was a gleam in his eyes and a mischievous grin on his face. He swore until the end that he had no idea why Bhutto sent him to prison. However, knowing his blunt nature and forward thinking, I am sure it was probably something he said. After all, he had annoyed many people with his outspoken thoughts and he had been threatened in response too but did that scare him? Not a chance.
He blamed the country’s ills on over-population and education. If these could be sorted, everything could be sorted. He made it sound simple. Almost easy.
We walked through the Bagh-i-Rustom in Karachi’s Clifton area. A park he had built, naming it on his father. He walked through the shrubs and bushes pulling his gown up until his knees while I chased after trying to scribble his words on my notebook. Eventually I gave up trying to note down what he was saying and tried listening instead. The man always made sense.
“This is not for me, this is for everyone,” he mused while proudly gazing into the gardens ahead.
Be it funds, be it land or be it wisdom – Cowasjee never hesitated to provide to the masses. Where politicians and officials never took him seriously, Cowasjee in return never lost an opportunity to publically discredit Pakistan’s leadership. His vocal thoughts are perhaps what his readers prized most about him. And when in 2011 Cowasjee stopped writing his weekly columns, his readers from all around the world sent in requests for him to change his mind. They said no one said it like he did. He, however, stayed firm on his decision and said he’s bored of writing the same thing over and over again – he didn’t believe anything would change.
Now that he’s gone, the hope for change becomes even bleaker. His dreams for Pakistan may never be fulfilled but his hope and efforts will probably never be forgotten.
Walking down Dawn’s corridor in an olive three-piece suit with a shiny handkerchief in his pocket and a cane by side, Cowasjee was chuckling to himself.
Too nervous to approach him, I wondered what he must have been thinking: About Jinnah? About journalism? Or perhaps he must be trying to figure out why women in Pakistan are so reluctant to show their ankles – a musing he had once shared with me. To him, this remained a great mystery.
To me, how he acquired the strength to fight against the system day after day, will always remain a great mystery.
Rest in peace, sir. You made me terribly nervous and easily overwhelmed but if you were still here today and I had a chance to meet you again, I’d dash for it so I could hear you speak once more.
The author is the Deputy Editor at Dawn.com.
this country will forget you, media will forget you, forget your all effort, none follows your foot steps to aware the people. i wonder who left more like him…
His uncanny ability to use others’ utterances to express his own views about even the most sensitive matters, his concerns about the environment, education, and increasing polarization of the society, and his gift of seamlessly connecting the past with the present were unmatched. He continuously lamented how far the modern day Pakistan had deviated from what Jinnah had meant it to be. And, of course, he had a gift to so vividly present a story that it came alive to the reader. For example, his description in one of his columns of how Zia’s honchos had tried to intimidate him by grabbing his lunch basket which his wife had carefully packed was moving.
Move on we must but what matters most is the kind of footprints we leave behind. He left good ones. Rest in peace, Mr. Cowasjee.
Sad. When I read his article in Dawn in 2011, in which he wrote would be his last, I knew it would be that, in more ways than one. I keep a dog for three years now, and I know after this article, I am going to be even more close to it.
I took his advice. I am in the USA. I wish I had written this beautiful article! So much of it are my thoughts. And . . . I am an Aries , too.
Maqdoor ho tou khak say pochoon kay aay laheem (if it is possible, I must ask from the soil?)
Tou nay Gunj haiay graan maaya kia kiay (What have you done to those wonderful gems?)
I once heard him in Lahore Gymkhana and he told the audience that they were all frauds and cheats and lied to themselves and to the people. “This cannot last long”, he said to a crowd that was getting uneasy with what he was telling them. “I will not come here again. You are all frauds”.
He was correct
He did not go with the silents one, but expressed him very well when ever he thought things are not right. He was a brave man.
One by one the lights are going out in the city of lights. All the next generation will have are the indoctrinated fundos and the self proclaimed guardians of religion and morality. After Cowasjee few voices of reason remain and few people who will not shy away from acting in the interest of the many. RIP Cowasjee, you were a true son of the soil.
Hard to find a man with such qualities. Rest in Peace.
a great philanthropist, we all miss you
you fought the good fight… rest in peace
I miss you cowsjee
I was privileged to meet him, correspond with him and hear his favourite forms of address (saalaa hijraa hae, saalaa maulla ho gayaa etc) for most of those who got the opportunity to share his company. I am sadden and grieve. For all his philanthropy towards education including scholarships to poor students, I know he was a good man and that is the essence of life. Rest in peace, Sir.
Dawn should publish a collection of all his columns as a tribute to him and as an historical record of governance in Pakistan.
Ik chiragh bujh gayaa, sau chiragh jal uthay – in sha Allah
very good suggestion to publish his column in a book format..but always we wake up late? why we did not do it in his life? we dont appreciate our heroes in their lives..do we? will we ever do it for someone else?
I saw a book of his all his columns at Liberty Books (near BBQ tonight) about two weeks ago, it was called the Vintage Cowasjee I believe.
He was a great thinker, excellent columnist and proud Karachiate. Revolutionary thoughts that he provided on paper, if just one revolutionary action taker would have decided to change Karachi or Pakistan that would have completed his mission.
Even one of a kind may not be up to the personality of Cawas Jee to describe him fully and his Herculean efforts to correct the system.
RIP Cowasjee. You’ll be missed.
A wonderful man will be sadly missed. I only met him twice, but felt it was a great priviledge to have been able to do so. He always talked perfect sense and I believe his understanding ot the nature of the problems of Pakistan and their cure remains totally correct.
I used to exchange emails with him. Once I told him that you are a gloomy sad old man In reply he started calling me judge Javed.
Enjoyed my brief interaction with him. He loved Pakistan and he saw what was happening to it.
God give Ardeshir a place in Heaven
Last me him very briefly at Dawn’s offices in 2004, quite by chance. Rest In Peace Sir, you were one of a kind.
Ras H. Siddiqui
PS: I doubt if him and ZAB had a falling out in 1962 as reported here. 1972 maybe?
I am in shock that he left for final abode. Once i exchanged few emails and he thanked for all. My first choice on Sunday was to read his column. May Lord bless him.
Ek aur diya bujh gaya!!
So true !
God bless his soul. I use to live on 25-bleak house road. A great man always writing the truth about what is going around the country
A Pakistani by choice; he not only loved his adopted country, but truly cared for it also. RIP Mr. Cowasjee.
How come it is his adopted country? It is his country.
In 1947 many had the choice to live either in India or Pakistan.
He was born in Karachi.
This is what is ailing Pakistan today. You are not able to accept even your own people as your country’s citizen. Mr. Khan if not for anything else, plz respect this man for what he was rather than where/which religion he belongs? If you would have just read at least 10 of his articles, then I don’t think you would have made such a comment. I bet you would not find a better devoted Pakistani than him in a 100 mile radius from from where you live, which includes all and sundry. Request you not to sullen a human being of his stature.
By that logic every Pakistani at partition lives/lived in his/her adopted country as everyone had the choice to move. Ravi is correct.
I read and admired this wonderful gentleman’s writing. Seems that the Pakistan I loved and knew is almost gone.
Cowasjee a man of great thought and vision. It did sadden me to read the headline Cowasjee is no more, I was a fervent reader of his articles an I always looked out for them a very conscientious and truthful columnist I will miss his articles
.
Tremendous loss. He was man of character,integrity, who called spade a spade.
We’ll always remember him.
My condolences for the Pakistani journalist community and Dawn to have lost a gem.
True.
Actually, Pakistan has lost a great gem, but most of us do know.