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If someone asked me to describe my father in a few words, I would not speak of wealth or worldly accomplishments. I would simply say: he was a man built not of gold, but of grace. In a world dazzled by materialism, he walked a quieter path, one where thought was richer than treasure, and wisdom shone brighter than jewels.
Bashir Hussain Nazim (1937–2012) was not just my father; he was an institution. A self-taught scholar fluent in Urdu, Arabic, Persian, English, Punjabi, and more, he lived not for the spotlight but for the soul. He authored over 37 books, translated rare Sufi masterpieces, wrote and judged Naat poetry with an unmatched linguistic command, and quietly carried the weight of knowledge with humility that made him unforgettable.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vuF25zl2Iao
He has garnered immense acclaim within the realm of mysticism for his translations of remarkable works on Tasawwuf. His contributions include the revered 'Kashf-al-Mahjoob' by Hazrat Data Ali Hajveri (RA), 'Shawahidun Nabuwwat' by Maulana Jami (RA), 'Darul Muarif' by Hazrat Shah Ghulam Ali Dehlvi (RA), 'Zubdatul Muarif' by Hazrat Khawaja Hashim Kishmi, and 'Fayyuzatul Rabbaniya' by Hazrat Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jilani (RA), among many others.
In his capacity as Deputy DG in the Ministry of Religious Affairs, my father took on the esteemed role of speechwriter for the Prime Ministers and Presidents of Pakistan. His keen insights as a literary critic, especially within the Naat Genre, underscored his astute judgment and significant impact in the world of literature.
On one memorable 12th Rabi-ul-Awwal, my father, serving as the stage secretary at the National Seerat-un-Nabi Conference, also recited a Naat. As his voice filled the hall with reverence, Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif, the chief guest, stood up in deep admiration and kissed my father's hands. So moved, he requested another recitation. Yet, not even this rare honour stirred pride in my father’s heart.
He had the distinction of being a Presidential Pride of Performance awardee and the recipient of the Iqbal Gold Medal, yet he often rode public buses and walked the same dusty roads as the common man. While majority chased fame, he chased meaning. While others counted riches, he counted the recitation of Durood-e-Pak, over eighty millions (eight crore) times in his life, a number more profound than any bank balance.
I distinctly remember once, as I stood before a mirror, running a comb through my hair, he glanced at me and said, “Allah has blessed you with health, a graceful face, intelligence, and...” My heart swelled with joy, but before I could bask in it, he gently finished, “…and have you thanked Him for it? Go, and offer a prayer.” That was his way, redirecting every praise back to the Divine.
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He loved the Holy Prophet (Peace Be Upon Him) with a devotion that permeated every day, especially 12th Rabi-ul-Awal, which he turned into a day of service, celebration, and scholarship. He judged national Seerat and Naat competitions, wrote weekly articles for over three decades, and corrected even seasoned scholars on Quranic wording with a sincerity that stemmed not from arrogance, but from deep reverence for the sacred.
He once scolded me for writing “رحمت للعالمین” with an addition of Alif, saying, “You are writing like an illiterate Maulvi. Erase it.” And this was just one example. To him, even a misplaced letter was a deviation from truth.
I remember driving him on my CD-70 motorcycle to Constitution Avenue, unaware that he had an appointment with the President of Pakistan. While luxury cars passed us by, my father entered the gates of power, not with pomp, but with books in his lap and sincerity in his heart. This was him: a scholar invited to the palace, arriving on the seat of humility.
He was called “Ustaad” by poets like Iftikhar Arif and Ehsan Akbar, consulted by the likes of Pir Naseeruddin of Golra, and deeply admired in mystic and literary circles across the globe. His Persian verses are inscribed at the shrine of Hazrat Data Ganj Bakhsh (RA) in Lahore, a poetic immortality that few can claim:
کو کب رشد و ہدایت، نجم ایقاں گنج بخش
ہستی او مزرع اسلام را ابر کرم
خطہ پنجاب را احسان یزداں گنج بخش
— بشیر حسین ناظم
The writer believes that a noble character outlives wealth and endures long after death.
1 comment:
Great person indeed. May Allah grants him highest place in Jannah ameen
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