THIS IS MY STORY—57
MY JOURNEY THROUGH THE ERA OF AYUB KHAN TO THE TIMES OF IMRAN KHAN.
GHULAM AKBAR…..
My Meeting With My Mentor
The office of Daily Mashriq on Nisbet Road was hardly a walk of five minutes from Kohistan’s office on Mcleod Road. I have very distinct memories of that winter night. It was early 1964. As I stepped into the door of Daily Mashriq my heart was beating fast. I was a little nervous. Also tense. As well as excited.
I had not met Enayatullah Sahib after my departure to Karachi about two years earlier when he was still Managing Director of Kohistan Private Limited, and my mentor/boss.
Twentyone months didn’t constitute a “long time, but so much had happened in that short period!
The office boy had appropriate instructions to take me straight to Enayatullah Sahib. As the door opened and I entered I saw him getting up from his chair and coming around. There was a broad affectionate smile on his face as we shook hands.
“ I am glad you have come Akbar Sahib. I have been wanting to see you for quite some time,” he commenced the conversation after we had got seated opposite to each other.
“How is your health Enayat Sahib? It is wonderful to be with you after such a long time”. I replied warmly— not failing to read the quotation that was hoisted on the wall behind his chair.
“There is no standstill in newspapers. They either progress or die. LORD ARMSTRONG”.
“If you had wanted to see me you could have done so anytime. But you missed the bus.” There was a polite, amused smile on his face as he said it.
“No Enayat Sahib,” I replied, “I didn’t miss the bus. I did what I was honourbound to do. Nasim Hijazi is not just my Mamoon, but also my hero. I couldn’t even think of ditching him.”
“I didn’t ditch him Akbar Sahib. He did. He did it under the influence of a few morons who couldn’t have even dreamt of entering the office of the second biggest newspaper in the country had they not somehow assembled around Nasim Sahib. They are an insult to this industry. And they are now running Kohistan the newspaper, I had envisioned to become one day the country’s undisputed Leader! I know your position too, and I feel sorry for you—”
Enayat Sahib’s face had turned red with mixed feelings of rage and hurt.
I had nothing to say in reply.
After a short pause he spoke again. Now his tone was different. Polite and sad.
“I loved Nasim Sahib. He was my hero too. There was a time when I used to read proofs of his novels. We thought of launching Kohistan together over a decade ago. There in Rawalpindi. We had meagure resources. Just dreams. But eventually we made it. You joined when Kohistan had started rocketing up. And you know my dreams. I wish Nasim Sahib had not been such a weak listener. I have always believed there are two persons inside his frame — one a genuine visionary— a noble human being. And the other a mortal incapable of separating right from wrong. When I was away from here— in London— he was vulnerable to the misguided notions that those morons plus his son poured into his ears. You know I gave him an option— to appoint you as Deputy Managing Editor with all necessary powers ? I told him I would step aside, if he did that and stopped listening to his advisers. He was surprised at this proposal. He promised me to give it a thought. He had reservations about your age, but I told him that you already knew more about publishing than he or anyone else in the Board of Directors did. I had hoped he would agree to this proposal. It was the only way Kohistan could be saved. But you know what he eventually did. He made a deal with Sheikh Hamid Mahmood. And for me it was the end of Kohistan—”
