Memories of friends are a double-edged sword. They strengthen yet torment when one remembers those who are no longer with us. These thoughts were recently triggered while attending a get-together in Mississauga in memory of the Late Shahid Rashdi who left us four years ago. His daughter Dana and her husband Zain hosted us. It unleashed a gush of memories accumulated over seven decades. I have been blessed with powerful bonds; my biggest treasure in life – my friendships. Wing Commander (retd) Rashdi left the air force and moved to Canada. We were together at Punjab University. He was an ardent supporter of another departed friend, Jahangir Badar. In those days, friendships transcended political views. In Mississauga, we continued as close buddies working together in many political campaigns. His wit, sense of humour and caring nature has left behind joyous and pleasant memories. Such events bring out sweet yet painful feelings, which can only be washed away with tears. In the past weeks, I have been expressing my opinions on ever-changing political scenarios in Pakistan. It engrosses you deeply; drawing you away from so many other dimensions in life. Today, I want to share memories of treasures I lost, and recognise the blessings of those loving friends who are still around. They keep you going. During school days, Salim Manzar, now living in New Jersey, Shahid Majeed residing in Lahore and I were inseparable. Shahid and I would cycle together through tiny paths bordering green fields parallel to Mansehra Road to Burn Hall; sharing anecdotes and laughing aimlessly that only youthful exuberance brings on. The rightists of Islami Jamiat Tulba (IJT) were greatly encouraged and communication lines developed very quickly. I completed my schooling at Lyallpur’s La Salle School. Living at Agricultural University my closest buddy was Masood Hashmi. Teenage memories abound amongst our close group of Sheikh Rafaqat, Pervez Malik, Masood (Satto), Mushkoor ( Mushki), Asad (Moni) and Mian Sanaullah (Haji). We freeloaded, courtesy of Pervez, in Minerva Cinema watching movies from the owner’s box. Amongst many crazy activities, we started collecting wheel cups. One such activity was reported to Rafaqat’s dad, Mian Iqbal. It resulted in severe thrashing. Rafaqat did not speak to us for days, blaming us. After intermediate, I got admitted to Undergraduate Honors Program at Punjab University. We were accommodated in Hostel #1 where our Dean, Dr Sher Ahmad Lodhi was also the warden. Till we descended, this hostel was considered a haven for serious-minded science postgraduates. All that changed very quickly. We were driven to Lahore by Mian Nisar Ul Haq, a celebrated media personality and my friend Hassan Nisar’s father. I am strengthened by this relationship spanning 57 years that I cherish ever so deeply. It draws me to Lahore. Another friend and my emotional lifeline, Iftikhar Feroze got a room in the same hostel. Away from parental controls, we made the most of the newfound freedom. Iftikhar (dheli for friends) was an orator par excellence and a political mentor to me. He is no more but his fond memories are fresh in my mind. Another discovery was Late Maj. Rahim Din hailing from Garh Maharaj, Jhang. We were both in Economics Department and became very close. Built like a brick house and supporting a huge moustache, he soon became my muscle too. In the evenings all of us would congregate in Iftikhar’s room to enjoy a delicious cup of tea along with Munawar Ghafoor and other friends. It became our ever-expanding private social club. Punjab University was arguably one of the best parts of my life. I had tasted electioneering in Government College, Lyallpur becoming a part of the students union. I was bitten by the political bug. Having attended an English school I bonded well with students from that background. Hailing from a rural area, I was equally comfortable with “Paindos” or rustic folks. Quite a formidable combination. Student Unions were banned under Ayub Khan. Only departmental societies were permitted. After his departure, President Yahya gradually revived them first by permitting University-wide societies. I was elected Joint Secretary of the Economics Society and Secretary of the university’s drama and music society. In the late sixties, student politics was ideology-based. Karl Marx and Lenin led the messaging for the left. The right was dominated by Maulana Maudoodi’s teachings. The polarization was intense. I had friends on both sides. Iftikhar Feroze was our intellectual. Generally, he was kind and soft-spoken but when challenged ideologically, his reactions were fierce and fearless. As a group, we went to attend a seminar organized by NSO, a leftist organization. Speakers expounded on their leftist beliefs to expand their base. Unfortunately, one of the firebrand speakers got carried away and uttered unsavoury words about our Holy Prophet. That is when the shoe dropped and Iftikhar blew up finding such uttering unacceptable. Mayhem followed; an impromptu demonstration condemning the perpetrator started. That was the day when ideological lines were drawn for us. The rightists of Islami Jamiat Tulba (IJT) were greatly encouraged and communication lines developed very quickly. The same year Students’ Unions were revived. Both sides scrambled to build their organizations and develop an election panel. IJT was mainly composed of studious students who relied on arguments rather than brute force. Leftists were more vigorous buoyed by the growing popularity of Bhutto’s PPP. We formed an alliance with IJT who nominated me as Secretary General in their panel. In a short period, we all got deeply immersed in politics. (To be continued) The writer is the director of CERF, a non-profit, charitable organisation in Canada.