He was a renowned psychiatrist and so much more. A peace activist, humanist and upholder of human rights, his work as a foundational leader in the fields of mental health, peacebuilding and human rights are well known.

But long before I knew anything about these struggles and achievements, to me Dr Haroon Ahmed was a beloved uncle — Haroon Cha — the closest to a brother my father had after his own brother Akhtar, a journalist, passed away in 1956.

They had met as first-year students at Dow Medical College — now University — in Karachi in 1948. There were many issues in the ‘new’ country and the students realised they had similar problems, regardless of their backgrounds.

“You really bond over cadavers,” my father once told me, referring to the post-mortems medical students conduct.

Together, they started the Democratic Students Federation (DSF) in 1949, upholding the distinction between student unions and student wings of political parties. Led by my father Mohammad Sarwar, DSF won the Dow student union elections. They started units at other colleges, laying the foundations of Pakistan’s first nationwide student movement, the All Pakistan Students Organisation. Their demands included better classroom, laboratory and hostel facilities, and security of employment.

Often considered the ‘father of psychiatry’ in Pakistan, Dr Haroon Ahmed, who passed away April 3, was also a fervent human rights and peace advocate

This movement could not have taken shape without the political acumen, vision and hard work of friends such as Haroon Ahmed and Rehman Ali Hashmi, among others. Adibul Hasan Rizvi, who went on to found the Sindh Institute of Urology and Transplantation, was a couple of years junior. Devoted to my father, he was so close to Dr Haroon that it was almost as if he had a sixth sense about Haroon Cha’s well-being. If Haroon fell ill, the telephone would ring. On the other end would be Adib, calling to ask if everything was ok, Haroon Cha’s wife Anis once told me.

Despite his own ill health, Dr Adib came to Dr Haroon’s funeral, even if briefly.

The well-known Dawn columnist and economist S.M. Naseem, who helped set up the DSF unit at DJ Science College, was the publisher and editor of the DSF fortnightly journal, the Students’ Herald — revived online some years ago with his permission. Based in Islamabad, he is too unwell to travel or write about Dr Haroon, as he undoubtedly would if he could.

Their comrades included Saleem Asmi, the late editor of Dawn. Also involved were then high school students, such as eminent journalist Ghazi Salahuddin and poets Habib Jalib, whose first public declamations were at DSF gatherings, and Zehra Nigah, who wrote her first political poetry for the DSF after police firing on their peaceful Demands Day demonstrations killed several students and passers-by on January 8, 1953.

Dr Haroon was among the comrades interviewed for the documentary I made on DSF, Caravans of Passion, filmed by the multi-talented Sharjil Baloch. It was my cousin Haris Gazdar who had suggested preserving the DSF legacy in a documentary after my father passed away in 2009, a year and a half after being diagnosed with cancer.

Rushing over on hearing the news, Haroon Cha had pulled open the front door and rushed into the room where my father lay. That is the only time I knew him to be overcome beyond words. He stayed for a few minutes, then left as suddenly. I believe he drove around for a while before returning, calm as ever.

He had been among the most regular visitors to our Karachi home, first near the Quaid’s mazar, then near Gizri, joined later by Anis Aunty. He was in his 40s when they got married in 1974. She was 16 years younger, but they had an exemplary relationship, harmonious and egalitarian. A black and white wedding photo shows her seated in her bridal finery. The cardiologist Dr Sharif (‘Laali’) stands next to my father Sarwar, while Haroon Cha is in the middle behind Anis, my mother Zakia next to him. We children are in the photo and so is Haroon Cha’s niece Uzma.

Haroon Cha raised Uzma and her siblings after their father, his older brother, died. When Anis Aunty’s parents died in 1977, tragically within a fortnight of each other, her younger siblings also found succour in the Haroon household. They extended this generosity and care lightly and open-heartedly.

It is not surprising that family and friends from around the country and indeed the world flocked to his funeral. He had always been there for so many people, family as well as students.

Dr Haroon was passionate about sharing knowledge and raising awareness about mental health. Zohra Yusuf, former chair of the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP) recalls a series of articles he commissioned on crimes against women and children in Pakistan, published by the Pakistan Association of Mental Health (PAMH). Dr Haroon had established the PAMH in 1965.

To her, “the most composite expression” of his interest and commitments was the publication of a political prisoner’s first-person account, Jo Mujh Par Guzri (PAMH, 1993) by Maulana Javed Nomani of the Jamiat Ulema-i-Islam, then headed by Mufti Mahmood, Maulana Fazlur Rehman’s father.

Arrested in 1983 for his activism against Gen Ziaul Haq’s military regime, the prison authorities brought Nomani to Dr Haroon for psychiatric treatment. Dr Haroon suggested that Nomani write about his prison experience and the torture he endured, believing this would be therapeutic.

The project developed into a book, later translated into English as Behind Bars by the late journalist and playwright Imran Aslam. It is, as Zohra says, “among the rare accounts of prison life during the Zia regime.”

Dr Haroon writes that he used the insights he gained from his interactions with Nomani to treat other prisoners of conscience, especially in the case of the student leader Rahila Tiwana. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) was then “a new diagnostic entity, which the highly conservative medical profession has finally recognised,” Dr Haroon, one of the pioneers of treating PTSD in Pakistan, noted in the introduction of the book.

His friend, renowned artist Bashir Mirza, known as BM, designed the cover — a powerful pen and ink drawing of a pair of hands in chains against a stark red ground.

“In choosing Imran Aslam for the translation and Bashir Mirza to design the cover, Haroon demonstrated a keen sense of aesthetics and attention to quality,” comments Zohra.

Feminist activist Khushi Kabir in Dhaka, who I got to know in the 1990s and is a childhood friend of Zohra’s, recalls growing up in Garden East, Karachi, where the neighbourhood doctor was Haroon. In 2021, when we started the Southasia Peace Action Network together, Haroon and Anis were among the founder members.

“I’ve never met a doctor who was so nice,” says Khushi of the charming young physician, who even made late night house calls to treat her mother’s asthma.

Rest in peace, Haroon Cha. May we continue the rich legacy you leave behind and may it endure — not just the institutions you founded, but the values of humanity, secularism, empathy, gentleness and generosity you upheld in word and deed.

The writer is a journalist who has lived and worked in Karachi and Lahore. Currently based in Boston, she is a co-founder of the Southasia Peace Action Network (www.southasiapeace.com) and founder editor of Sapan News. She can be contacted at beena@sapannews.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 20th, 2025