Now boast thee death; in thy
possession lies ... Muhammad Salahuddin
There are some people who make a complete mockery of
death: they perish to prevail forever, die to live forever. Life makes them
mortal; death immortal. They die as martyrs and with their martyrdom, the torch
of truth shines even more brightly to light up the path of righteousness.
...Muhammad Salahuddin, undoubtedly, was one of them.
He was a fearless journalist and a dauntless writer who
tread the path of truth with the majesty of the midday sun. He was a symbol of
honour and integrity, and an embodiment of devotion and commitment. He wanted to
see a united Pakistan, a prosperous Pakistan and fought against the menace of
ethnicity till the last drop of his blood. His uncompromising and unyielding
stance against all forces hostile to Islam and Pakistan wrote a golden chapter
in the history of Urdu journalism. He was `rewarded' for his veracity and his
office was wrecked and house burnt a couple of years ago. This, however, only
increased his commitment to his profession.
Born in trying circumstances, he battled against the
vicissitudes of life with tremendous courage and perseverance. He was possessed
with the determination and will to fight the impossible. Working day and night
he made his way through the hardships of life. It was his utmost desire to die
the death of a martyr and must have beamed victoriously when a dozen bullets
pierced his chest on that desolate December night. `Cowards', he knew, `die many
times before their death; the valiant never taste of death but once'. His
murderers, perhaps, did not know that death would elevate him to sublimity and
glorify his mission.
It was a sheer coincidence that just three days before his
demise, he had spent a whole day at the premises of our institute. The authority
with which he spoke and the conviction with which he presented his views are
still fresh in our memory. We can still hear his voice resounding in our ears
and the fragrance of this immortal being still roams the corridors of
"Al-Mawrid" and reminds us of the flower that was Salahuddin.
His life was gentle and the elements
So mix'd in him that nature might stand up
And say to all the world
`This was a man' |