A Year Without Him — and the Giant Still Towers Over Us
By Shukoor Ahmad
Today is the first anniversary of the passing of Dr. Masoud Malik Sahib, I find myself reflecting not only on a remarkable life, but on the profound influence he had on me and on so many others. Though his doctorate was in Animal Nutrition, his true passion — the quiet calling of his heart — was to serve his faith, family, uplift his community, and support anyone who crossed his path. He could have earned countless awards and public recognitions, but he chose a life defined not by titles, but by unseen sacrifice, unassuming leadership, and unwavering devotion.
He was one of the most influential figures in shaping my own journey in serving our community. As a mentor, he saw something in me long before I saw it in myself. At just 31 years old — barely five years after I migrated to the United States — he entrusted me with a major leadership responsibility. Since the 1970s, he had been a respected, steady, and widely admired presence in our community, yet he never hesitated to lift younger people onto platforms he could have kept for himself.
In 1994, during the inauguration of Bait-ur-Rahman Mosque and the 46th Annual Convention, he gave me the responsibility of leading community outreach and bringing civic and political leaders to the event. Some senior members questioned whether I was ready for such a role, but Masoud Malik Sahib believed in me without reservation. With guidance from remarkable elders such as Allah Baksh Chaudhry Sahib, the late Basharat Jamil Sahib, Chaudhary Naseer Ahmad Sahib and the late Zia-ul-Haq, I worked to fulfill the trust he placed in me.
Two years later, in 1996, he again recommended me — this time to our esteemed Amir Sahib, Mirza Muzaffar Ahmad Sahib — to lead the Annual Convention. His confidence in me was an act of generosity and vision. He understood that communities grow only when we bring younger people forward, and he modeled that belief throughout his life.
Our meetings during the 1990s — sometimes several times a week — were like masterclasses in sincerity, humility, and leadership. He shared stories of his early service from his college years with Imam Mubashar Sahib, and his dedication never wavered for a single day. Together with his devoted wife, Aunty Farida, he opened doors for so many — sponsoring relatives, helping families migrate, and supporting countless individuals as they found their footing in a new land. Today their extended family, now nearly 200 strong across generations, stands as a living testament to their quiet and consistent commitment to lifting others.
Even when my responsibilities shifted after 2009, every conversation with him remained meaningful. He listened with the patience and warmth of a father, even when my ideas were unconventional. I can still hear his gentle chuckle — a sound that made disagreements feel like shared wisdom rather than opposition.
His passing left an irreplaceable void. He lived for others, cared for everyone around him, and dedicated over 50 years in the United States to the service of faith and humanity — all without ever seeking praise or recognition. I often encouraged him to document his journey, but his humility would not allow it. His story, he believed, belonged not on paper, but in the lives of those he quietly helped, mentored, and inspired.
As I reflect today, my heart holds both deep gratitude and a tinge of regret — gratitude for everything he gave me, and regret for the time I wish I had spent with him in his later years. His legacy, however, remains a guiding light: a legacy of faith, kindness, integrity, and selfless service.
To me, Masoud Malik Sahib was far more than a mentor. He was a beacon — a steady, compassionate, principled soul whose humanity illuminated every room he entered.
He may no longer be with us, but his influence lives on in every life he touched, every person he lifted, and every heart he inspired. May God grant him the highest stations in Heaven and bless his family, who supported his mission with grace and patience for decades.
(Note: Sahib is used out of respect in South Asian Culture)
Source: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/year-without-him-giant-still-towers-over-us-shukoor-ahmed-ot36c/
