- PAF Public School Sargodha
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Important News
THE GEM OF A SON
The painful memory of 08 April continued to haunt me till I took refuge in writing these lines. I heard it from Sqn Ldr Shabbir: “Imran Tariq of 25th Entry has died in an air crash”. My ears did not believe the news. My wife and I rushed frantically to his residence in Sargodha. I was praying that what I had heard might turn out to be a rumour. When I turned towards Imran’s residence I saw the PAF Provost standing all along the road. What befell later is beyond words to describe. Heart-rending wails of Imran’s mother shook us deep inside. My wife who was sobbing and praying till then, burst into tears. She had always admired Imran’s mother for the way she had brought up her kids.
Flying was not just a profession to Imran. It was his life and soul. His father also died in an air crash during an exhibition flight at PAF Base Sargodha (now Mushaf). Imran was only 6 months old then. Like father like son; Imran died with his boots on. My wet eyes were a tribute to Imran’s glorious death. The motto of his House was: “To What Heights Can I Not Rise”. Today dear Imran had topped the heights, which even a Falcon never flew.
I had known Imran since I received him in Falcon House back in 1992. Being a bachelor I had lot of time to spend with the boys. I remember Imran was slender and skinny when he joined the House. I saw him grow smarter and taller both in stature and personality. He was down to earth, humble and caring. He has left a circle of friends, each one claims that he was closer to him. That’s how he made everyone feel.
My memory might be playing tricks on me but I can’t remember anything but good about him. So, let me say in my biased praise; Imran was the nicest son a mother could have. I saw him on visitors’ days. His regular visitors were his grandma, mother and sister. He would feel happiest in their presence and would always show them tremendous love. Once he told me that they were so fond of each other that none of them could bear to live apart. When he was selected for PAF College Sargodha, he found it really hard to bid them farewell. But the aim of becoming a fighter pilot like his father gave him strength and courage.
Like many other Sargodhians, he relished weekends, which offered him sound sleep and freedom from early morning hassle and tension. Imran would vividly describe the time spent at home. After he had lost his father, his mother started teaching at a school at the Base. Once he told me that he and his sister would help her at home, even in the kitchen. The home was shattered again. I wanted to console Imran’s grief stricken mother but was at a loss for words. I wished Imran had lived many more years especially for his mother and the family. But who can understand the ways of Allah. Only His will reigns supreme. He had chosen him to be a Shaheed at a young age of 25.
The residence was full of uniformed personnel and civilians who had come to condole with the distressed family. Imran’s wife was trying to calm down their 3 months old daughter. That small little creature probably got scared of screams all around. It was only last year the place was echoing with laughter and music. Imran was getting married. He was looking gorgeous in a traditional wedding gown and turban. He had invited rather insisted that I attend all the functions. None of us ever imagined that the times spent and moments shared would so suddenly and abruptly end. Now, he was in front of me; sleeping in the flag wrapped coffin. How uncertain life is!
Flying Officer Ahsan Hamzai (1663-T) of Imran’s Squadron was telling me: “In the morning, Sir Imran was telling us about the low level strike mission he was going on. Then he began to advise us to pay Mess bills on time. He handed some money to a colleague and asked him to pay his bill. He said he would collect the change after the mission. He didn’t know what fate had in store for him.”
Imran’s father in law, Brigadier Ghaffar had arrived. He was bravely holding back his emotions. Men in uniform picked up the coffin. They were going to carry it to F 6 lawn at the Base. People from all walks of life had gathered to pay tribute to the son of soil. The Shaheed’s coffin was brought to the spot with full military decorum. Funeral prayer was offered. The coffin was on the shoulders again. Now they were carrying it to PAF graveyard. Shortly, they came to the destination. The crowd was shuffling around a freshly dig grave. The coffin was placed beside it. Guns were fired in honour of the Shaheed. Flt Lt Aftab (1534-Fn), Imran’s colleague from Falcon House picked up Imran’s cap and medals from the coffin. Flt Lt Irfan (1455-F) and Flt Lt Ovais (1490-A) two of Imran’s entry mates folded the national flag. At last, the coffin was glided down the ropes, into the grave, and covered with slabs. I tossed on my first shovel of earth and asked the departing son: “Are you happy on your trip to heaven?” The answer was clearly heard inside me: “Yes Sir!”