The prolific and leading English author from the past century E.M. Forster famously wrote: “Two cheers for democracy, one because it admits variety and, two, because it permits criticism. Two cheers are quite enough: there is no occasion to give three.”

From my earliest meetings with Rahat Saeed I remember him raising his cup once and saying: “Three cheers for socialism, one because it distributes wealth and, two, because it brings dignity to all. Two cheers are not enough: the third cheer is for us, who believe in creating a just and egalitarian world.”

Saeed remained committed to his ideals until his last breath. On October 23, 2024, in Karachi, he lost his battle against galloping cancer that had been diagnosed just a little more than a year ago.

They must have met before, but it was about 40 years ago when Rahat Saeed first came to our place to see my father. My father was then writing his memoirs, which were initially published in the literary magazine Afkaar. Saeed, along with his literary and trade union friends Wahid Bashir, Faqeer Muhammad Lashari and Dr Mohammed Ali Siddiqui (who also wrote a literary column for Dawn for many years under the pen name of Ariel), was planning to launch a quarterly academic-cum-literary journal Irtiqa and wanted my father to contribute to that journal. Poet Hasan Abid joined the editorial board after Lashari passed away. Later, Dr Syed Jaffar Ahmed, along with a few others, kept the lamp of Irtiqa shining.

In any case, that first home visit was the beginning of a close personal association between Saeed and my father, which very soon turned all of their family members into each other’s friends. Until the time my father was alive, Saeed would see him at least once a week. Speaking of our family friendships, I have an interesting anecdote to tell. I have even been a matchmaker — and a proudly successful one — for Saeed’s younger daughter.

It was maybe 1997. I was visiting one of my dearest friend’s mother in Gujranwala. She had not been keeping well and she asked me to find a suitable girl for her boy before she passed on. I did, although she couldn’t live to see them tie the knot. Today, both Dr Arjumand Bano and Dr Bahar Ali Kazmi are academics teaching in European universities, with occasional research and tutoring stints in Pakistan.

Saeed was a committed labour rights champion and a cultural rights activist all his life. On a personal level, he was steeped in poetry and our classical music. His organisational and networking skills were also impeccable. When I was still an undergraduate student in the late 1980s, he roped me in to help establish the Irtiqa Institute of Social Sciences. Those were the times when the Soviet Union was coming apart and China had considerably changed its course to the one-party regulated market economy.

Under his tutelage and leadership, Kaleem Durrani, Sajjad Mehdi, Ali Yavar and myself organised a two-day, highly representative and elaborate conference at the PMA House, Karachi, titled ‘Crisis of Socialism.’ From Dr Eqbal Ahmed to Raza Kazim to Abid Hasan Minto to Akhtar Hussain to Hasil Bizenjo to Saleem Raz, all participated.

In 1986, Saeed was also instrumental in celebrating 50 years of the founding of the Progressive Writers’ Association in the Subcontinent. Although the political emergency imposed by the state had been lifted at that time, those were still Gen Ziaul Haq’s martial law years. But Saeed, along with his other comrades, ensured that those celebratory events happened.

Over the last few years in Islamabad, Saeed led the efforts to organise two Afro-Asian writers’ conferences, with active support from poet Imdad Akash and other friends, including Naeem Mirza and Naseer Memon. He brought together anticolonial and anti-imperialist poets and writers from across 15 countries to meet in the Pakistani capital and mull over the crises faced by humanity, the working classes and the oppressed nations of the global South.

Even during his service with Pakistan International Airlines, Saeed did not refrain from working with trade unions and progressive literary organisations. However, after his retirement, his main passion — which almost turned into an obsession — was the revival and re-organisation of the Progressive Writers’ Association. He travelled far and wide in the country and visited India multiple times to meet his counterparts. He also invited the Indian PWA to meetings in Pakistan to foster cross fertilisation of ideas and to learn from their more sustained experience. Besides, he reached out to other like-minded people internationally.

The differences between progressive individuals, groups and associations working under the same name — less for ideological reasons and more out of ego — couldn’t be mended that easily. Nevertheless, Saeed worked hard to bring all under one umbrella.

The most successful event in this regard happened in Multan, in 2008 if I remember correctly. With the help of Dr Anwaar Ahmed, Dr Najeeb Jamal, Hameed Akhtar and Zahida Hina among others, Saeed was successful in reviving the PWA at a broader level. Unfortunately, the differences reared their heads again after a few years. Perhaps, a time has come when different groups of like-minded people in different parts of the country create issue-based networks instead of trying to merge into one organisation.

Another passion that Saeed espoused all his life was bringing Sindhi- and Urdu-speaking Sindhis together. In later years of his life, even after being enfeebled by old-age health issues, he would travel across Sindh in buses and meet all kinds of people. He always either had an ajrak (the traditional shawl worn in Sindh) wrapped around his shoulders or was clad in a waistcoat made of an ajrak.

Rahat Saeed, you will be dearly missed.

The columnist is a poet and essayist.

His latest collections of verse are Hairaa’n Sar-i-Bazaar and No Fortunes to Tell

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, November 3rd, 2024