Whether I Remain or Not, the Caravan Must Go On… Aah, Siraj Butt
By: Raja Zahid Akhtar Khanzada
His determination was stronger than mountains, and his depth was like the ocean. Ten months ago, the deadly disease of cancer had taken hold of him, gradually diminishing his body’s strength and vitality. He was a man of firm resolve, but the visible and invisible forces of illness steadily took control over his weakening body and limbs. Yet, even then, his determination remained as steadfast as the mountains. Over the past ten months, his body melted away like a wax statue.
My friend, my companion, the one who shared my sorrows, my confidant and close ally, Siraj Butt, is no longer in this world. But his memories are deeply embedded in my heart and mind. My friendship with him in America spanned over a decade. His cheerful nature, good morals, and habit of living for others and doing something meaningful for them might have been the reason for our bond. Siraj Butt was the president of the Karakoram Thinker Forum and also served on the Board of Directors of South Asia Democracy Watch, an organization that worked for human and political rights in South Asia.
He was actively involved with the All Pakistan Muslim League, the political party of former President Pervez Musharraf. Later, he was elected as the president of Pakistan Muslim League-N Dallas. In Dallas, he held a high-ranking position in a fashion apparel company. Leadership qualities were ingrained in him. Due to his exceptional character, he had the ability to win the hearts of people, whether ordinary or elite.
Anyone who met him even once became captivated by his personality. If he helped someone, he would sacrifice everything—his time, wealth, and efforts. He was a true friend who never turned his back on anyone in difficult times. He provided shelter for numerous families in Dallas, allowing them to stay at his home for months. Whenever someone came from Pakistan to the U.S. in search of a better life, he not only helped them but also accommodated them in his home until they were stable enough to move into their own residence. He would feel a sense of relief once they were settled, and this cycle continued. His house was never empty of guests, and if it ever was, he would feel lonely.
Perhaps, this feeling of loneliness was intensified because, in his early youth, he had left the mountains of his homeland behind in search of livelihood abroad. From Malaysia to Japan and then to America, wherever he went, he remained dynamic, vibrant, and ever-moving like the ocean. The paths were unfamiliar and unkind, and the destination was unclear, yet he continued his journey despite the dust and fog that clouded his way.
Whether it was New York or Dallas, wherever he resided, he actively participated in social and community activities. From human rights campaigns to religious, cultural, and literary events, he was always present. His patriotism was deeply embedded in his being. Though he was far from his homeland, his heart was always filled with love for Pakistan.
He wanted to instill the same national consciousness in his children. A few years ago, he made a significant decision—he sent his children to his ancestral village in Gilgit for five months so they could learn about their cultural roots.
On one hand, there was the life of America, and on the other, a region where even electricity was scarce. He temporarily relocated his children there, allowing them to spend time with their grandmother, uncle, and other relatives. When they returned to America, they were almost unrecognizable because they had become weaker. However, one noticeable change was their newfound discipline and respect for elders.
Before he became ill, he often took his children to various places across the U.S., perhaps knowing that time was running out and the battle was tough. He would take them to historical sites to ensure they learned something valuable while enjoying themselves. Alongside his children’s upbringing, he actively participated in community affairs and even involved his children in such activities.
During Pakistan Day celebrations, his children would sing “Sohni Dharti Allah Rakhe” and receive immense praise. He had a saintly nature, which was perhaps why our friendship was so strong. Like me, he had the ability to adapt himself to different environments. He was not only a participant in religious, social, and literary events but was often an integral part of their organization.
Through his kindness and community service, he made a name for himself in a very short time. Whether it was the Democratic Party’s Muslim Caucus, through which he sought to play a role in American politics, or organizations advocating for human rights like South Asia Democracy Watch, he was actively involved.
He was a key figure in organizing conferences at local universities and was always present at events promoting Pakistan’s image. He was associated with the Pakistan Society of North Texas and supported every platform that benefited the Pakistani community. As I mentioned at the beginning, his resolve was stronger than mountains, which is why he stood firm in every situation and made the impossible possible.
However, a few years ago, when he received the news of his mother’s passing, he endured the pain with great resilience. That day, I was out of town, but when I returned and visited his house for condolences, I found a steady stream of friends paying their respects.
The next day, when I went to meet him again, he embraced me and broke down in tears. It was as if the mountains had cracked open, and rivers were flowing from them. His wife later told me that I was the only friend with whom he had wept so openly.
Even in the face of hardship, I never saw him lose hope. He always smiled. If friends ever made mistakes, he never got angry. He would always say, “Friendships require effort to maintain.”
Ten months ago, after continuous stomach pain, doctors recommended an endoscopy, which revealed that he had terminal intestinal cancer. This news left all of us friends in shock. However, when we met him, instead of expressing his worries, he comforted us, saying, “Raja Sahib, don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
He kept giving false reassurances to his friends, telling us about new medicines introduced for chemotherapy. But with each chemotherapy session, his body deteriorated further. The man who once had a willpower stronger than mountains was now weakened by disease and treatment.
Like a setting sun that casts longer and longer shadows, Siraj Butt was also following the shadow of his fate. He relinquished his control over life and, as time grew short, wished to rule over the few remaining moments he had left.
In the final days, his thoughts often wandered back to his childhood in the mountains. A few days ago, he sent me a video featuring the breathtaking waterfalls, lush green valleys, and pristine lakes of Gilgit, accompanied by traditional music.
As I watched the video, his words echoed in my ears:
“These valleys, these skies are calling you.”
I, too, was transported to the serene landscapes of Gilgit, where the earth meets the sky.
Today, as I write this, my friend is no more, but his memories, his love for his homeland, his generosity, and his unwavering spirit will always remain alive.
Whether I remain or not, the caravan must go on…
(Note: The following article was originally published in Jago Times Urdu on December 23, 2001 and is now being translated into English for publication.)
