Abdul Rashid Shah, founder editor of Urdu Daily, Nida-e-Mashriq left this mortal world on 7th of March, 2026 (Saturday) after a prolonged pulmonary ailment. My association with him dates back to 1992 when he, after quitting his job with Jammu and Kashmir Department of Information, launched his own newspaper. It was being published from a rented building in Maisuma locality of Srinagar.
I was yet to formally join the profession but my columns were getting published in several local newspapers. There were several established Urdu newspapers and I was wondering how Rashid Sahab would create some space for his venture. I used to visit his office and nag him with such questions and taking a drag and blowing the smoke, he would tell, Dekha Jaye Ga (let’s see).
Later he shifted his office to Press Colony, Pratap Park, where I was a frequent visitor as I was staying at 6-Pratap Park in Greater Kashmir office, that was yet to be launched as Daily. We would smoke, have cups of tea and discuss media, politics, economy, society endlessly.
For some people in the fraternity, Rashid Sahab was egoistic and arrogant. No, he wasn’t, he was just blunt in his views, in his perceptions and in his approach. He had a creative mind and a flair for writing. His editorials and a regular column “Namak Paaray” were a treat to eyes and intellect and his editing skills were top notch given his experience in Information Department.
So, it was no surprise that in a brief period, Nida-e-Mashriq created a niche among the Urdu dailies being published from Srinagar. He worked very hard and gave his sweat and blood to his publication. Those days there were no computers, no emails. Every editorial and news item was calligraphed. It was all manual.
Reporters would file hand-written reports or you got reports through fax machines. Editor would read them, make the necessary corrections, additions, deletions and handover the same to calligraphers. Once these were calligraphed, Editor would again go for proof reading and then finalise. Rashid Sahab used to do all this single handedly. With dozens of dirty tea cups on his table and ashtrays full of cigarette butts, he would ensure he reads every word that was coming in the newspaper next morning.
In May, 1993, Greater Kashmir was launched as an English Daily. I joined it as a reporter and subsequently became its Associate Editor. Now my meetings with Rashid Sahab became more frequent. He was senior to me and there was a lot to learn from him. Rashid Sahab and Manzoor Anjum, Editor Uqab were good friends but they had a love-hate relationship. They had one more common friend, Late M Y Qureshi of Khidmat Printing Press. Though they were all seniors and I was a newbie in the field, I would sneak into their meetings at Mashriq or Khidmat office and enjoy their company.
It was during these meetings I started understanding the true meaning of journalism and its ethics. While discussing in private, we can gossip, make wild guesses, strip people naked but when it comes to newspaper and reporting, facts are sacred, no compromise with that.
Though we had close association but what brought us much closer was a tragic incident. On July 05, 1995, we both were kidnapped along with two staffers of Greater Kashmir by Ikhwan, a counter insurgency group, from Press Colony. Ikhwan had a grudge with local media that though they gave ample coverage to pro-Pakistan militant groups, they were not covering Ikhwan.
On July 06, the two staffers, Shafat Ahmad Mattoo and Manzoor Ahmad Qazi were release with the directions that the statement they were handed over should be published in all local newspapers on front page prominently next day, failing which, dead bodies of me and Rashid Sahab would be thrown in Press Colony in the evening.
What happened, how courageously local journalists contacted and convinced the commander of Ikhwan Kuka Parray to release us, is a long story. We spent two nights in the captivity waiting for our death because we were not sure that anyone could help us. But next day, the statement was published, we were released safely and we returned home happily.
One anecdote during the captivity is my life time experience. It was our second day in the captivity. We were treated and fed well. We were supplied our quota of cigarettes and provided a transistor to listen to the news where, in every bulletin, our kidnaping was mentioned. Bored by the news, I decided to listen to some music. Rashid Sahab was strolling in the room – it was a big room some 20X14 ft. He was smoking non-stop and I was humming along with a song playing on radio. It was – Simti Houe Ye Ghadiyan, Phir Se Na Bikhar Jayien (the moments that we have gathered, lest these be scattered again).
Rashid Sahab looked towards me and yelled – Mout Chu Kalas Peth, Che Chukh Gewan Simti, Simti (death is hanging on our heads and you are singing Simti Simti). The retort was so cute that despite all tensions, I started laughing.
Then I requested him to sit and relax. I too lit a cigarette and started discussing our situation. I said, during the night, we can attempt to escape but there are gunmen all over and we will instantly be killed. Yes, there is no guarantee that local newspapers would publish the Ikhwan statement and if they don’t, we will be killed. But what if they publish, we may be released. If we are destined to die in this manner, let it be. Why to torture ourselves. Let us talk, listen to music, chat about all good and bad things that we have experienced.
By then he was relaxed and he told me that he is not scared of death but he has planned the wedding of his daughter and is worried that if he gets killed, how things will shape back home. In that difficult hour, he was not thinking of himself but of his daughter and rest of the family.
Dear Haroon and the whole family, he loved you guys so much!
