For a student of politics interested in journalism and human rights activism, seeing titans like IA Rehman, Mazhar Ali Khan, Alys Faiz. Hussain Naqi, Aziz Siddiqui, Zafar Iqbal Mirza, Zafaryab Ahmad and Shafqat Tanvir Mirza under the same roof was the stuff of wild dreams. I was one of the fortunate people who actually saw these people together, at work.

It was on a sunny day during the winter of 1991. I entered the offices of weekly Viewpoint to meet Hussain Sajjad Rizvi, son of Dr Sajjad Baqir Rizvi, a close friend of mine who was an apprentice at the magazine. I was a student of political science at Forman Christian College. Rizvi introduced me to Rehman Sahib, Mazhar Sahib, ZIM Sahib and Zafaryab Ahmad Sahib that day. Later, I became a frequent visitor to the place. The first thing I noticed about Rehman Sahib was his smile and the affection in his eyes.

The following year, I joined The Frontier Post. I would meet Rehman Sahib at the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan and other rights organisations. He was happy to learn that I had chosen to be a journalist. “Journalism is a cause. It is a cause for democracy and human rights. If you can make it your cause, continue; otherwise quit,” Rehman Sahib told me. As a guide, he was candid and disciplined.

He cherished his friends. When Aziz Siddiqui, the former Pakistan Times editor and a HRCP joint director, passed away in 2000, Rehman Sahib was in tears. He seldom said no to somebody in need.

In 2013, boarding a Bangkok-bound flight together, I had the opportunity to listen to him for nearly two hours. He was worried about media, state of human rights in Pakistan and terrorism. He said, “the situation is terrible but we cannot abandon our struggle.” When I expressed pessimism, he told me, “When you wage a struggle, you should not hope for quick results. You should play your role and not be too focused on the outcome.”

He was humble to a fault. In 2019, Media Foundation 360 invited him to a seminar on media ethics. When I reached his house to pick him up, he asked, “Why did you come to pick me? You should have sent somebody else.”

Encouraging those juniors to him was a way with him. After I launched the fortnightly Truth Tracker in 2018, we met at the launch of HRCP’s annual report. As soon as he saw me, he said, “Your magazine is a good addition to the print media.” The encouragement helped me continue what was then looking an uphill task.

He commanded immense love and respect from his contemporaries and juniors. When I spoke to Dr Mehdi Hasan, the former Human Rights Commission of Pakistan chairperson, to offer my condolence, he sounded grieved. “We have lost our guidance,” he said. Dr Mehdi said, “I never saw him angry, which is unbelievable.”

Hussain Naqi Sahib, who shared nearly 60 years with Rehman Sahib as a journalist and a human rights defender, spoke for several minutes over the phone the day Rehman Sahib passed away. He reminisced about The Pakistan Times, Azad, Viewpoint and the HRCP. “He was 10 years senior to me in journalism. It is not easy to endure the loss of a person you have shared 60 years with - as a brother, a friend and a colleague. “

Tanvir Jehan, the Democratic Commission for Human Development director, said once again she had the feeling of being orphaned. “First, we lost Dr Mubashir Hassan and now Rehman Sahib,” she wailed.

I did not have the heart after that to talk to Wajahat Masood, Kamila Hayat, Haris Khalique or Munizae Jehangir.

A thought gives me strength: Rehman Sahib will live in his teachings and in his writing.

The writer is a senior journalist, teacher of journalism, writer and researcher. He tweets at @BukhariMubasher