by Habib Khan: I had known Paramoz Khan since my school days, as his father, Mohammad Sharif Badini, would often visit my uncle in Noshkay, and I vividly remember them chatting and laughing together over loud slurps of green tea in our baithak. Sharif Jan had many sons, and back then, Paramoz Khan was just one of them to me. However, when he got admission to the Government Science College in Quetta, we got to know each other better. In July 1970, when I was in class 10 and Paramoz Khan was in his second year, there was a torch-bearing procession (mashal bardar jaloos) to commemorate the dissolution of the “One Unit” and the formation of the province of Balochistan. Paramoz Khan, with his strong and robust built, carried a torch throughout the over 90-minute procession, holding it high without lowering it once, earning praise from both the organizers and onlookers.
When I got admission to NED Engineering College in 1974, Paramoz Khan was already in his second year of civil engineering, and he excelled at football as well.
One day, while I was a spectator at a match, Paramoz Khan and a Syrian student, who was built like a bull, challenged each other for the ball and clashed fiercely, both falling hard to the ground. I thought the Syrian had seriously injured Paramoz, but after a few moments, Paramoz got up, dusting himself off, while the Syrian lay flat on the ground, having broken a leg. He had to limp for months, and whenever he saw me, he would say, “Baramoz broke my leg, I’ll break his leg too!” I would jokingly tell him he should focus on protecting his other leg from Paramoz Khan’s wrath.
On another occasion, while traveling from Quetta to Karachi, by train, a few of us students decided to have breakfast in the dining car and lingered there to pass the time. Paramoz Khan got up to return to his seat, but we remained in the dining car, chatting, until the next station, which took at least 30 minutes.
When we opened the dining car door, we were met with utter horror !!!! Paramoz Khan was covered in sand, clinging to the door railing for dear life. It turned out that the door latch was faulty and couldn’t be opened from the outside. Paramoz Khan, having changed his mind and tried to return to the dining car, found himself unable to enter. With the train already in motion, he made the daring decision to hold onto the railing, defying the intense speed and dusty winds of interior Sindh. Everyone was astonished, agreeing that only Paramoz Khan could have managed such a feat – clinging to the door for over half an hour at high speed. Any one of us would have surely fallen, but Paramoz’s exceptional strength saved him from a potentially disastrous outcome.
Few could dispute Paramoz Khan’s impressive physique and strength, but many doubted his intellectual acuity. However, I remain convinced of his wit, as a remark he made during our student days has proven remarkably prophetic and continues to resonate with me.
While we toiled away in the mechanical workshop, forging red-hot iron in the sweltering Karachi heat, he taunted us from the workshop window, “Aor Leo Maeknikal” (Bear the consequences of choosing mechanical engineering).
Life’s events have consistently reminded me of Paramoz Khan’s words. From failing annual exams, switching jobs multiple times, facing a year of unemployment, and working extended hours until my retirement, I thought I had finally escaped the truth of his statement. But I was mistaken. Last week, when I went to collect my modest EOBI pension of Rs 10,000 from the bank, I was informed that I couldn’t receive it because I hadn’t submitted my proof of life, which I thought I had done three months prior.
“But you have to do it every three months,” declared the banking clerk, “Go back and bring your documents.” Suddenly, I remembered Paramoz Khan’s words and uttered them loudly inside the bank, to the surprise and amusement of all the staff and customers, “Aor Leo Maeknikal!”.
