Yaadish Bakhair: Nasim Ahmed Asadi

Nasim Ahmed Asadi of Nauabad, Quetta.

"Where you were born is less important than how you live."
                                                                                  Turkish proverb
Nasim Ahmed (Mama Nasim)

“Alao, goda pakoda! Tum kaisa hai? ", he would greet me every time I visited him in Nauabad, an old Hazara neighborhood off Alamdar Road in Quetta City. And he would almost always be in the middle of carrying out some chore, making or fixing something. Long before he bought his car, he had a 1973-74 Honda 110cc motorcycle commonly known as Benly. It was a red machine which he maintained meticulously, paint bright and shiny under a thick coat of the finest wax and chrome----with which that particular Honda model was loaded-----glittering in the sun. Nobody ever saw that motorbike dirty. Yes, meticulous is one of the better adjectives to describe him. Just like his bike, then his Vespa Scooter and finally his car, he himself was also well-maintained: always dressed in clean, starched and well ironed shirts and trousers and wore polished shoes that would make the best TV commercial for Kiwi Shoe Polish. He was a relatively tall man with long flowing hair like that of the young Robert Redford in his 1960s movies. In the latter years of his life, he had grown a salt and pepper beard which added the layer of age and the grace that comes with it to his already attractive personality. That welcoming smile never left his face: even when he was in a bad mood and angry, the smile would soon return and it would be all good again. This was Nasim Ahmed Asadi, my maternal uncle, or our Mama Nasim. 

Honda 110 Benly

The “goda” in his greeting meant a horse, a pony, and the “pakoda” just an added term to rhyme with the first. “Pony” he also used to call his eldest son and my cousin Haider. Also, there hung a painting of a pony on one of the walls of the verandah in his house, done by the famous Hazara artist Ramzan Shaad. So, there was obviously something about the animal that he loved. 

National Bank of Pakistan, Quetta

Nasim Ahmed was the second youngest among his siblings. By profession he was a banker. At the end of his illustrious career at one of the country’s oldest financial institutions, the National Bank of Pakistan (NBP), he retired as a vice president. Even in retirement his former colleagues, friends and juniors would consult him on the finer and more complex matters of banking law and bookkeeping etc. That is how good he was at his job, just like his other brothers, all of whom were model government servants: Station Master Abdul Baqi of Pakistan Railways, Abdul Hadi who retired as Assistant Commissioner Quetta, Abdul Mehdi of Pakistan Telecommunications (T & T) and Insp. Abdul Rahim of the Police Department of Balochistan. Professionalism of the highest caliber was a family thing for the brothers.

It was this uncle who taught me how to ride a bicycle, my first bicycle, a red 18” Sohrab, and then a motorcycle, my Yamaha YB 100. The love of motorcycles was something we shared. We would go for rides together. I would follow him to Hanna Lake and Urak Valley, he on his spanking clean Benly and I on my Yamaha. Often, my cousin Misbah would also join us on his Kawasaki. He also taught me the finer points of bike maintenance. He was a handy man, very good at making and fixing things. An amateur carpenter, he had many other skills as well such as electrical and mechanical, not to say anything about masonry and gardening. When he was not doing banking stuff----he always brought work home, his room had piles and piles of files and ledgers from his office---- he was either making or repairing something or reading religious books, which filled the shelves of his bookshelf. He just did not like sitting idle and doing nothing. 

A religious seminary

Religion was very important for him and nothing animated him more than a mention of certain religious personalities, ideas or issues that he held very dear and in high esteem. For example, he often got very excited and emotional during religious discussions. His attachment to certain pious figures of Shia Islam, both classical and contemporary, was absolute and he would often brook no difference of opinion about, and certainly no criticism of, certain revered figures of the faith and of potentially controversial issues, including the politics of religion. It was not a heartless and irrational (sectarian) extremism that has come to define the landscape of Quetta, and of Pakistan in general, in recent decades. But rather, it was the love of faith in a sincerely devoted man who, despite all the displays of emotionalism and even righteous anger at times, never failed to see and understand faith in its entirety, with both eyes so to speak: the eye of mercy as well as the eye of justice, with the eye of jamal (beauty) as well as with the eye of jalal (majesty), immanence as well as transcendence. His Thursday nights and Fridays (Sundays) were often spent in the nearby religious seminary called Jamia e Imam Sadiq (AS) on the main Alamdar Road where he would engage in long religious discourses with the resident religious teachers and senior students. All the local mullahs and zakireen knew him well because of his regular attendance at the Imam Bargahs and the seminaries. The month of Muharram had a special place in his heart and he often went on pilgrimage to Iran. Such was this man, our Mama Nasim. The son of a well-known and respected religious scholar, Mullah Ghulam Ali (my maternal grandfather), he was the most dedicated to religious causes among the brothers.

The "goda" on the wall

Professional banker, skilled handy man, kind to both the elderly and especially to children, and always curious about gadgets, itching to do something useful with his time and skills, Mama Nasim left this world in 2009. Among us siblings, my elder sister was his favorite. She also had a special affection for this uncle of ours. He was a frequent visitor to our house and often brought us things that we loved--- mostly our favorite toffees and biscuits. The red Benly and that painting of the pony on the wall are etched in my mind forever, just like Mama Nasim’s warm and welcoming smile.

Yaadish Bakhair

For more please check out: The Bikes of Quetta in the 1980s

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