Meeting Dr Wahidur Rahman, again

Published: May 3, 2015
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Hundreds of shoulders volunteered, to carry and bury Wahid. PHOTO: EXPRESS

When I touch my heart,

It starts to bleed,

Like the hit of a dart.

I miss Sir Wahid.

 

He showed me patience,

He offered helpful advice,

He created memories for me,

On truth and beauty suffice.

 

As bright as the sun,

How gentle he seemed,

In my mind right now,

He floats like a dream.

 

He trained us for the world ahead,

He instilled us with hope.

“Don’t lose sight,” he told us,

“You won’t be able to cope”.

 

When the dark day came,

With its mournful deed,

Hundreds of shoulders volunteered,

To carry and bury Wahid.

 

He was taken away,

Bid adieu for the very last time.

He was escorted to his destination,

In the hollow, the timeless, the sublime.

 

He left us in misery,

With a flood of tears;

Come back, Oh Doctor!

His echoes were everywhere.

 

He not just instructed,

He really believed,

That nothing’s out there,

Which can’t be achieved.

 

He came with a passion,

A passion to teach,

Won countless hearts,

From everything he preached.

 

A package of kindness,

More gracious than all kings,

We always felt safe,

Under his protective wings.

 

So when the time comes,

And we all will fall away,

I will look forward to meeting him,

Away from this desolate dismay.

 

When I touch my heart,

It starts to bleed,

Like the hit of dart.

I miss Sir Wahid.

Syed Umar Hussaini

Syed Umar Hussaini

He is a student of Mass Communication at the University of Karachi. He is a passionate writer who loves to pen down what he feels, thinks or sees.

The views expressed by the writer and the reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of The Express Tribune.