In the quiet of a Karachi evening in November 1974, my father, Hassan Ali G. Rammal, wrote a Gujarati poem that still speaks to me across five decades. He signed it, as he almost always did, with his chosen pen name, Suman — a word associated with “flower” and, figuratively, with a noble mind.

The poem is called Pyaso Pravasi — or The Thirsty Traveller.

But first, a little about the man who wrote it.

Hassanali G. Rammal was born on May 16, 1906, in Karachi, then a cosmopolitan port city of British India. He grew up among Gujarati, Sindhi, Urdu, Hindi and English speakers, and he conversed and wrote fluently in all of them.

His artistic life reflected the cultural and religious diversity of Karachi at the time.

In 1974, Hassan Ali G. Rammal wrote Pyaso Pravasi, a Gujarati poem about the pursuit of knowledge. Decades later, his son looks back at the poem — and the pluralistic Karachi that was the author’s milieu

In 1974, Hassan Ali G. Rammal wrote Pyaso Pravasi, a Gujarati poem about the pursuit of knowledge. Decades later, his son looks back at the poem — and the pluralistic Karachi that was the author’s milieu

Over his long creative life, my father composed more than 150 geets [lyrical songs] that were sung in Ismaili jamaatkhanas [community centres] and living rooms from Karachi to London, Toronto and Vancouver.

The most famous of them, Prem Sandesh, recorded by the legendary Khursheed Nurali with the Prince Aly Khan Orchestra in 1968, remains a classic of Ismaili devotional music. In 1970, a selection of his work appeared in the Gujarati-language anthology Suman Sangraah.

He was also a prolific playwright. He was a member of the Shankar Vijay Sangeet Samaj, a prominent music and theatre institution located at Gordhandas Market in pre-Partition Karachi. Most of its members were Hindu businessmen or professionals; my father was the sole Muslim among them. Yet he was welcomed as an honorary drama and song writer. My........

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