IN MEMORIAM: MARGHOOB – MY BROTHER
“Have you heard the news about Marghoob?” asked Hamid. “What news?” I asked in bewilderment; I felt an electric shock. A wave of horror ran through my spinal cord; my heart began to sink, and my eyes flashed open in grievous astonishment. I know he was ill, very ill. fighting a battle of survival. What could be the news? Is it bad news? Ah, it turned out to be the bad one, the much-dreaded one. Marghoob has passed away. Inna Lillah-wa-inna-ilaihe-rajioon (verily, we belong to God, and to him shall we return).
Marghoob was one of my closest colleagues and desert brothers. He was young, in the prime of his youth. The sad news of his death shook every fibre of my being. I was totally upset, just at my wit’s end—My heart yelled in agony. Is it true? O God! Is it true? Really, we understand Death for the first time when she puts her hand upon one whom we love.
Marghoob joined us in Jamiat in 1952 as a student of N.E.D. College. Before coming into Jamiat, he remained an enigma for us for a pretty long time and belonged to the famous ‘Jatoi Group,’ a group at the very mention of whose name was sufficient to send terror among the students. But he wore a well-trimmed beard and a very gentle look. Being the workers of Jamiat, we were always looking after those students who cherish in their hearts a love of Islam. And if a young man, seeking education in the modern academic institutions, keeps a beard, it is ample proof of his respect for the values of Islam. Then we knew that although this young bearded man moves in that group, he himself has never done anything untoward. He is sympathetic. He is cultured. Yet he is among the Jatoi group. This was the paradox we were faced with, and we were unable to unravel it. Then came an occasion for contact and cooperation. Jamiat decided to participate in the union elections, and after surveying different factors, we found that Marghoob was the man whom we could safely support. Khurram Zubari and Anwer talked to him, and we decided to make him our candidate for reading room secretaryship. And he was elected. This was our first contact, and a very fruit-bearing contact it turned out to be. We found that Marghoob had a soft heart and a good character. In fact, he was not at home in his former company. His conscience used to revolt against that. One day he told me, “Khurshid Bhai! Whenever we used to go to a movie or on some frivolous adventure, I felt a strange sense of contempt for myself—an inner dissatisfaction, a revolt of the conscience. Thanks God, now I have come to a company I really longed for.”
In the beginning of 1952, he joined the study circle, which we were then holding. In his circle, we understood each other and became close friends. And as he lived very near to my own residence, we often said prayers in the same mosque, and hence we had an opportunity to meet daily
The thing that I loved most about Marghoob was the softness of his heart. I have met very few people who have such a pure, soft, and kind heart. He used to think with his heart, and it was his ambition and endeavour to live for the good of others. Only very few people know how many students of the Engineering College have crossed the threshold of examinations in flying colours only with the help and personal assistance of Marghoob, who even sacrificed his own division.
In Jamiat, Marghoob progressed very swiftly. In no time, he became one of our forefront workers. In fact, his case was that of “خیارکم فی الجاھلیہ خیارکم فی الاسلام”.
In 1955, he left for the U.S.A. for higher studies. This step of his was a marvel of fortitude and courage, for he had very little money, but he was determined to get higher education. He somehow arranged the money for the passage and sought admission to the University of Minnesota. He and Anwer left in September 1955, and within a year, they not only established themselves well but also wrote to us that they were creating a fund to finance higher education in America for the workers of Jamiat. In the morning, Marghoob used to study in the college; in the evenings, he worked at a restaurant, and whatever time was left with him, he devoted that to the propagation of the message of Allah. As in Karachi, so in U.S.A., he won the confidence of all and sundry and in 1956 became the President of Islamic Cultural Society of the U.S.A. He attended the U.S. Muslim Students’ annual moot, and for the first time in the history of the States, the voice in favour of the Islamic Constitution was raised. The conference passed a resolution asking the Pakistani government to frame an Islamic constitution. This year, he attended the Chicago World Book Exhibition and displayed Pakistani literature on Islam. In the United States, he lived the life of a missionary and a soldier—the real ambassador of Islam—loving youth of Pakistan.
When Marghoob left for the U.S.A., we went to the airport to see him off. After bosom-breaking embraces and love-filled kisses, we departed from each other. From the gallery, we waited to wave off to him. It was dark, and the faces of the passengers were invisible. We were very perturbed. But the wit of Marghoob came to our rescue. A handboard went high into the air, and the torch was lit. In the orbit of light, we saw Marghoob—sincerely saying good-bye. But ah! Did I know it would be our last look at his face? That we won’t be able to see his smile again? It turned out to be so. On 30th October 1957, Marghoob, my friend, my brother, passed away. Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’oon. God may forgive his failures and omissions and shower upon his choicest blessings. His is the death of a pious youth, and the vacuum it has created is irreparable, not only for me personally but also from the viewpoint of the Islamic Movement. May God bless Him.
