Nasir was known for his polite, lovely, and lively behavior among his fellow bus conductors. He had vast experience in this field and had traveled extensively through Punjab, Baluchistan, Sindh, and Azad Kashmir—a region of occupied Kashmir often regarded as the bone of contention between Pakistan and India. This exploration made him unique and thought-provoking among his peers. I met him during my university teaching days when I was teaching at the University of Chenab, Gujrat.
I noticed and learned new things from his generosity, purity, clarity, and rare qualities. His generosity was exemplary. Most of the time, I couldn’t have breakfast early in the morning, but he would often guess this and bring me a cup of coffee or tea. His smile was meticulous and heartwarming as he offered me a cup of tea with grace. The charm on his face seemed to sparkle whenever he shared something or served me during the bus ride. I couldn’t help but think, “What a delightful and soulful being God has placed in such a smart body.” He was like a beautiful poem, one I often recall and recite during my quiet moments. I would often ask him, “Nasir, how do you always know?” He would reply, “Sir G, I have wandered the world. Now, I have the ability to articulate what is what and who is who.” I was surprised at his response.
Another quality that distinguished him in this profession was that he never responded harshly to his seniors. He never abused or rebuked them; instead, he always showed regard, love, and respect to both his friends and foes. His utterances were mild and sweet. He was a kind man who created space and peace for the solace of passengers. His self-esteem and unorthodox approach showcased his radicalism among his fellow beings.
He was a man who I often thought deserved a profession higher than being a bus conductor.
During our journeys, he often displayed his humanistic vision. He knew the professions of all the passengers who traveled daily on his bus and managed accordingly, reserving seats that best suited different professionals. As an observer, I noticed many times that he had a compassionate spirit. After a few days of traveling, I interacted with him, and he began to reveal his diverse experiences. He shared that he had lived in Saudi Arabia, where he performed Umrah and Hajj many times, though he never boasted about this in his community. He had extensive knowledge about the sacred pilgrimages in Saudi Arabia, knowing each corner where pilgrims go and are blessed by the holy relics. I was amused by how much he knew and how simply he portrayed it.
Moreover, he was a devoted and fanatic fan of Imran Khan. He would often mention Imran Khan as if the man had become a cult figure for him. He had great respect for Khan, frequently exclaiming “Khan, Khan, Khan.” Although he had only completed secondary school, he loved following news about Khan and adored his photos. He often shared his admiration in ways that clearly reflected the enigmatic and mystical character of Khan among the lower and middle classes of Pakistan. He knew all about Khan’s Peshawari chappal, watch, tasbih, sunglasses, white robe, and agile gestures. His love for Khan was well-known among his peers, shopkeepers, and hotel owners, who were aware of his passion for catching even a glimpse of Khan on television. During Khan’s jail days, Nasir was deeply grieved and hoped for a miracle for his leader. I often thought of him as Mangu from Sadat Hasan Manto’s story “The New Constitution”—hoping against hope for Khan’s release so he could once again mesmerize his followers.
As an explorer, Nasir also had insights into the political turmoil in Baluchistan. Whenever we discussed the unrest there, he eagerly participated, sharing firsthand observations of the conflict. He explained that it wasn’t the common Baloch who caused the disturbances, but various groups backed by different agencies to create unrest in the region. I was amazed by his knowledge, far beyond what I would expect from a bus conductor, and his optimistic perspective.
In addition, Nasir had a good understanding of business. He often spoke about his friends and colleagues, who celebrated his character and vision. He was a trusted figure, often relied upon by the families of his friends in their absence. He would frequently share stories and gifts given to him by his friends, and I often wondered why he was working on these buses that traveled from Behra Miani, Malikwal, and Mandi Bahauddin to Gujranwala.
I frequently asked him about his son, and he was always clear about his plans. He shared that after his son’s matriculation, he would either send him to Europe or guide him in goat farming. He envisioned his son as a future businessman—a boss in his own right. What a vision he had! I often reflected on his wisdom. As a wanderer in Pakistan, I had seen many tough versions of bus conductors, but Nasir stood tall among them. I prayed for him, “May he live long with dignity and love.”
MUHAMMAD ADNAN GUJJAR
The writer is a full-time lecturer in the Department of English Language and Literature at the University of Chenab, Gujrat, and is currently working on the third edition of the literary magazine The Wordsmith E-Magazine
