This piece was first published on April 21st, 2015. It has been written by the daughter of late Masood Hamid, Dawn's former Marketing Director.

When people ask me why I became a journalist I tell them it’s the only thing I wanted to be since I was 12. That’s a lie. I wanted to be a journalist since I was four-years-old and baba used to take me to the Dawn printing press at Haroon House late at night because he had to check some ad placement or obituary notice. It had become a ritual of sorts.

We would stay there for a bit and go up to his office while he made some calls.

He used to be so busy during the day that the only time we saw each other was before my mother would tuck me and my brother in bed.

Read: Dawn Marketing Director killed in Karachi

Haroon House became this secret place where I had baba all to myself and it was then that I promised myself that one day, baba and I, would work together.

On Friday, when I reached the morgue I realised that I would never see baba again, let alone have the pleasure of leaving for work with him.

Many people did not understand our relationship. We had our own rhythm. I called him Masood and he called me Toobay.

He understood what I wanted to do and was always there ready with backup if I needed it.

Also read: In memoriam: ‘Mere Dost’ Masood Hamid

Most parents are hesitant about letting their children wander off into Lyari during the day, Masood let me go there at 1am to watch a football match.

Fathers don’t really let their daughters go to a blast site in phase VIII or in rural Sindh alone – many fathers don’t go along with their daughters to no-go areas just so they can learn more about their city. My father did.

He used to be more excited than I was when I had to go to Peshawar for work. Always on the lookout for what story I should do next.

For weeks I had been after baba to find a way for me to go to Mach. I would beg, plead, hold my breath till my face turned blue because I wanted to go there to do a story. I knew it was ridiculous – I would never get access to the prison or the high-profile inmate I wanted to meet.

He knew it too but he told me wait, ‘abhi kuch kartay hain’. I waited. I would message him everyday reminding him he had promised to find a way for me to get there.

Also read: Masood Hamid laid to rest

Then one day at dinner, he said: “Beta, it’s done. Let me know when you want to go.” I shrieked. I jumped. He hugged me and said, “chalo let’s discuss what you will write”. That’s just the sort of guy Masood was. He was my go to guy for everything. A lot of people say I am like him and I hope I am, because he was a good father, a great friend and a strong human being.

On the day he passed away, he knocked on my door to tell me he was home. I wish I could go back in time to that day just to hear him say: “Beta, I’m home.”

Published in Dawn, April 21st, 2015

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