Published in Weekly Mazdoor 02-Feb-2008
Alas... Iqbal Yousufi
By Muhammad Badar Munir
Remembered: The Selfless Life and Sudden Departure of Iqbal Yousufi
The night between the 18th and 19th of January brought an unexpected and shattering grief. Woken by the sound of weeping, I was met with words that seemed impossible to process: "Iqbal has passed away."
Death is an absolute certainty, yet accepting it in that moment felt impossible. Iqbal Yousufi appeared to be in the prime of health—energetic, active, and having only recently crossed the age of sixty. Standing before his lifeless body, seeing the blood, my mind raced with painful doubts and confusion. It was only after learning the medical diagnosis that the reality set in: he had been suffering from a stomach ulcer that had suddenly ruptured, taking his life. True to a stubborn family trait inherited from our ancestors, Iqbal had kept his physical ailments completely to himself. From the initial funeral preparations to his final burial, the entire sequence felt like a blurred, shocking dream.
A Pillar of Support and Selflessness
His sudden departure left our entire family deeply grieved, with every condolence message from relatives and friends reopening the fresh wound. Iqbal was the center of affection for our parents and the wider family. Among his peers, his popularity was immense, rooted in a lifelong concern for his student-day friends and fellow journalists. He was a man who routinely ignored his own struggles to alleviate the burdens of others.
His deep bonds of affection were evident in his relationship with Shakil Adilzada, the editor of Sab Rang and his former classmate at Urdu College. Whenever Sab Rang faced publication delays, Iqbal would become visibly anxious, constantly calling Shakil out of pure, persistent care.
A Champion for the Journalistic Community
Iqbal’s dedication to his colleagues knew no bounds. If a journalist faced a crisis, he made it his personal mission to resolve it. Through his tireless advocacy, numerous journalists successfully secured plots and houses. Ironically, the man who built roofs over the heads of others lived in a rented house until his very last day.
His commitment to the fraternity was further highlighted in a recent article published in Nawa-i-Waqt, where he spoke on behalf of the Pakistan Freelance Journalists Association (PFJA). He offered full financial responsibility for supporting the family of a martyred journalist from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Iqbal frequently bore the operational expenses of the PFJA out of his own pocket.
Boundless Compassion
His empathy extended far beyond his immediate professional circle. Wherever human suffering existed, Iqbal was there to help. He actively raised donations for Nawa-i-Waqt's relief fund to aid stranded Pakistanis in Bangladesh and victims of the devastating Kashmir earthquake.
Iqbal Yousufi was my brother—our beloved companion. Yet, none of us truly understood the depth of the pain he silently carried. Even his closest friends, who shared the majority of his daily life, always saw a man who appeared cheerful and full of vitality.
When the final moment arrived, only a few people were immediately by his side. Though hundreds eventually joined the funeral procession to his resting place, it was the ordinary, simple people—his neighbors—who stood closest. These were the people whose everyday problems he quietly solved, entirely separate from his professional responsibilities. They wept openly, praising his kindness and mourning the profound loss of a man who genuinely lived for others.