It is with great sorrow that I write the obituary of a man I genuinely admired. Masood Hasan (aka MH) left us on June 1, 2014. Needless to say, for those who knew him, their lives are already less cheerful.
Faraz, his son, mentioned how MH would hate to see the lot of us mourning in some dark corner of the earth and I agree. I think he would be more pleased if we reminisced about the good times instead and sincerely thought about the principles he believed in and so that is exactly what I will do here.
My journey with MH began in January, 2008. I was busy being useless at home, dodging taunts from my lovely parents and sometimes even the odd solicitous guest. They all feared I might waste my life twiddling my thumbs while the world around me galloped ahead in leaps and bounds.
From the Careers Section in DAWN, it seemed like the only position anybody ever advertised in Pakistan was meant for a godforsaken MBA. Considerably dejected, I gravitated towards a degree I wasn’t particularly interested in when an unusual ad in the news caught my attention.
Among other details, the ad read, ‘Willing to live on the wild side? Convince us you are not a sheep in lion’s clothing or just another pussy cat, and the job is yours. Candidates with personal transport preferred – camels acceptable’. This was typical MH copy – over the top and outrageous. I had to respond with an equally bizarre note, which I did, and a week later I received an interview call.
Publicis was situated in the heart of Lahore, less than a minute off M.M. Alam Road, adjacent to a large park in Gulberg. The office was bright, busy and fluid if I may say so – various people eased in and out of Masood sahab’s room. There was a strange contagious energy about all the simultaneous streams of uninterrupted communication, buzzing away, something akin to the ambience of a newsroom.
My interview with MH was obviously punctuated for this reason and every time someone walked in to see him, it was a matter of great urgency. He said then, just as he said plenty of times later, ‘We are an agency without walls; no one will ever have to wait in line to speak to anybody else here’. With my share of frustrations at various public and private offices in the past, an open door philosophy sounded most refreshing. But that’s not where MH ceased to amaze me.
As the interview went on, I realized I had not quite met a man like him before. He glanced over my resume and said, ‘Well, all this traveling and exposure across Pakistan looks great, but what is it that you really want to do?’ Fairly relaxed in his welcoming, genial presence, I said without thinking twice, ‘If I wasn’t compelled to make money, I suppose I’d be dancing naked in the fields right now’. He chuckled and said, ‘All the best with that, but when you decide to return from the fields, which you will, remember that advertising is the most fun anybody can ever have with their clothes on’.
Fun. And work. A marriage between the two was exactly what I was looking for and MH made it real. All organizations have their share of fights and trials and challenges but at Publicis, somehow, MH never failed to remind us how working without fun was both a waste of precious life and time. Whether it was a morning meeting, a working lunch, a phone call, a house meeting, no moment with him was ever devoid of humor.
In the six years I worked with him, I can barely think of a time when he lost his temper. Nothing was ever devastating enough to faze him. But there was one near perpetual itch he couldn’t quite wrap his head around: the morose melodies of his lovelorn assistant. On days when the office PA struggled with emotional turmoil, and this happened quite often, his melodies were louder and harsher. Since they reached MH faster, they would also thankfully end sooner. MH would simply shout, ‘stop howling like you’re dying’ and the PA would immediately snap out of his trance. But every time he visited MH in his office, MH shifted in his chair and it seemed like he experienced some sort of unidentifiable, fleeting pain; something only the PA’s absence could cure.
Apart from the one little-love-mostly-hate relationship MH had with his PA, he was many things to many people. In his public life, as columnist and radio jockey he was known for his satire and his incredible knowledge about jazz. In his professional life, at Publicis, more than a figure of authority he was a mentor and friend to his team. And finally in his private life, it was evident how popular he was when his friends – young and old alike – regularly visited him at his office. This was only possible because he was incredibly young at heart and a pleasure to be around.
I sometimes drove MH to the CityFM89 office in Liberty Market where he recorded his jazz show in the afternoon. But the show was aired around midnight. So one day I asked him, ‘How do you manage such a deep, husky, midnight voice at midday?’ and he responded, ‘Such are the perks of a diseased lung’. That was the first time he talked to me about his deteriorating health. Later, when his condition worsened, some of my colleagues and I urged him to consider retirement, an idea he did maybe give some thought to, but ultimately rejected. He said, ‘I have worked hard my entire life; there is nothing else I want to do’. It was very clear that his passion for advertising, at least at Publicis, was unparalleled.
In the end, I can’t speak for the entire team but MH helped me unlearn certain lessons I was vulnerable to adopt as a gullible, young professional. Once we were pitching to one of the largest real estate conglomerates of the region, when MH opened the meeting by challenging the very basis of hiring a PR agency for an issue that was, in his opinion, beyond PR. ‘Mindlessly agree with those in power for the sake of new business’. That was the lesson I unlearnt that day. We obviously didn’t get the work. In fact, a trip to Islamabad and back cost us considerable time and money. But we returned with a near extinct commodity that really has no substitute – integrity.
Thank you, MH for showing us the way then and for all times to come. May you rest in peace.
The writer is a communications consultant based in Lahore.
Email:Khizr.imran@gmail.com