KARACHI: Death is ineluctable. “All that lives must die passing through nature to eternity,” says Gertrude to Hamlet, referring to her husband’s death. Wahid Dino has passed through nature, and is perhaps headed to eternity.

On Sept 13, 2006, our colleague from Dawn’s art department died of cardiac arrest. His death is as saddening as it is mind numbing. The day before, he had made page 1 of Dawn and showed no signs of laxity while performing his usual duties. The smile that he would always sport on his bony face, highlighted by a grey beard, while receiving a friendly quip from a colleague was there.

I seldom saw him browbeat anybody into silence or being unappreciative of a witty remark, unlike many of my colleagues. Wahid Dino’s nickname was Kaka. I remember when the football world cup kicked off early this year I walked up to him and said, “I did not know you played professional soccer for Brazil.” (There’s a Kaka in the Brazilian team).

He responded with his customary broad smile that would stretch his grey beard into the kind of stubble which only Sufis would sport. He would ask me to recite one of my humorous ghazals that I have of late written on the plight of journalists in Pakistan. I would willingly respond in the affirmative. He would smile, not laugh or titter, at every couplet. I had an avid listener in the erstwhile page-maker, Kaka.

It was 2.30pm that a senior colleague darted into Sunday Magazine and told those who were present there that Kaka had passed away. From then on, it felt that Kaka’s fellow page-makers could not look each other in the eye. All of them wanted their welled-up eyes to be hidden from one another. I sensed the lump in one of his co-worker’s throat while informing someone of the deceased’s funeral. I doubt if anybody had lunch on Sept 13. For just the day before, they had sumptuous biryani with Kaka.

Kaka, you’ll be sorely missed.