Dr. Rafiq Masoodi
My connection to this story began in 2021 when I met Kabir Sir’s daughter on Twitter. I told her then that I had read her moving article regarding Kabir Sir’s passing in Kashmir Pen. We remained in touch over the years, and last week, she sent me a PDF of her article in A New Chapter. While I read it then, I was truly and deeply moved when the physical copies finally arrived; holding them in my hand brought back a flood of memories.
When you are asked to speak or write about someone you did not know intimately, but have heard a great deal about, it becomes difficult to choose the right words. I did not know Kabir Sir very well initially. I call him “Sir” specifically because of the way he welcomed me so whole-heartedly whenever I visited during the winter from Shillong; even though he did not know me well, his reception was incredibly warm.
In 1989, I was transferred from Radio Kashmir to the Northeast as a program executive to inaugurate a new service-the Northeastern Service of All India Radio in Shillong. At the time, militancy was at its peak, and we had no phone or postal services. Because the Kashmir and Northeast regions shared the same academic calendar, closing for winter vacations, I was compelled to return home to Kashmir during the holidays.
One of those winter breaks, 1994, was a very cold morning. Social media wasn’t invented then, so it was difficult to know who was or who had been posted where. I walked in and asked, “Who is the head of the family here now? They said a gentleman from Hyderabad had arrived. His name is Kabir Ahmed. At once the name Kabir Ahmed Jaisee came to my mind-he was a professor of Iqbaliyat at Kashmir University whom I knew well-so I thought it might be him.
When I reached the heavily fortified Radio Kashmir building, I walked down the corridors and noticed that the historical chamber of the director was closed. I was told that Kabir Sir was residing in the first room on the right; it served as his office, residence, and everything in between. I knocked on the door. A peon who recognized me opened it, and I stepped inside.
The moment I saw him, I noticed a profound aura-a distinct noor-on his face. Though he had a wheatish complexion, you could sense a deep spirituality shining through his eyes. His smile was extraordinarily beautiful and mesmerizing.
I introduced myself: “I am Rafiq Masoodi. I used to be the PEX here.” “Oh, don’t tell me, don’t tell me!” he exclaimed. “People tell me about you from A to Z.” I was quite flattered and thanked him. He then looked at me and said, “Dr Masoodi Sahab, apne liye jiye to kya jiye, auron ke liye jiye to bahut jiye.” (To live for oneself is no life at all; to live for others is a life truly lived.)
I smiled and replied, “Sir, you have completely twisted that famous film song!”
No,” he insisted. “This befits your character. Whenever I ask the staff, especially the lower staff, everybody takes your name with immense respect. I congratulate you on ruling the hearts of the ground staff. The senior staff might have their own reservations, but the lower staff is completely natural and genuine.” To be completely honest, in our profession in radio and television, people rarely appreciate one another; that is a stark truth. I would perhaps be the same. Yet, Kabir Sir spoke those words entirely from his heart. Normally, people in this industry hide their appreciation for others, but Kabir Sir possessed an excellent, rare quality of open praise. That was the essence of my very first interaction with him.
During my two-month stay in Kashmir, I visited him almost every week. Since my hometown is Sopore, I frequently traveled to Srinagar to check on local affairs and book my return travel. In those days, you couldn’t book tickets online. You had to physically come to Srinagar, and the process was incredibly difficult. You would travel all the way to the airport only for the flight to be canceled, return to the city, try for tickets again, and often have to grease a few palms just to get things done.
During one of these visits, Kabir Sahab asked me, “Dr. Masoodi, how do you get to the airport?”
“I take a taxi, sir,” I replied.
I will never forget his reaction. “Oh my God,” he said. “Should a person who rules the hearts of the Radio Kashmir employees not have an official vehicle provided for him?” “No, sir, it’s alright,” I said. “The travel is so unpredictable, and I have my two young daughters with me.”
His eyes lit up. “Oh, I have three daughters as well!” A lasting legacy! Back then, I didn’t personally know the daughter he spoke so fondly of was Dr. Humera Sultana. She is the one who authored the beautiful article in this magazine. The content is captivating. It is a profound, befitting tribute from a daughter to her father. Through her words, she has truly made Kabir Sir live again.
To me, Kabir Sir was a visionary, an excellent programmer, and a brilliant orator. He was a man who touched lives through his character, his radiant smile, and his warmth and had a distinct characteristic style of speaking.
Years later, I became the Director of Radio Kashmir myself, and I saw his name etched among the list of predecessors. It felt incredible to sit in the exact same chair where Kabir Sahab once sat. That directorial chamber at Radio Kashmir Srinagar is steeped in history. Truly great broadcasters and visionaries have occupied that room-legends like Lassa Kaul Sahab, Farooq Naski Sahab, K.K. Nayyar Sahab, Qaiser Qalandar Sahab, and Lutf-ur-Rehman Sahab. Whenever I sat at that desk, I could always feel Kabir Sir’s presence around me.
May Allah give him a high position in Jannat-ul-Firdous (the highest paradise). May Allah give Humera and her sisters strength to continue writing, as a continuous charity (Sadqah Jariyah) and a source of blessings for them. May the family of Kabir Sahab live a beautiful life ahead. Thanks.
Dr. Rafeeq Masoodi IBS(R) is a Former ADG Doordarshan, Former Culture Secretary, J&K Govt. & Patron, Adbi Markaz Kamraz, J&K.
