The moon was low over the city lights at 4:30 in the morning in Mexico City. A dull orange thin sliver, it too was in mourning. I was heading to the airport, but had just heard the news. Rahnuma had been keeping me updated. Ever since Irfan’s disappearance, we had feared the worst, but hoped upon hope that this time it would be different. They had the money, why did they need him? The news hit very hard.

I had joined the Bangladesh Photographic Society in 1984. Irfan had been part of our small administrative team. After serving as secretary general and three terms as president, I left the BPS to start up the Drik agency. Irfan soon decided to follow me to Drik. He worked in the darkroom with Anisur Rahman. The giant prints we had made in those days of Bangabandhu, in that tiny darkroom, with improvised troughs and hand mixed chemicals, were the handiwork of these two fine technicians.

Quiet and somewhat reclusive, Irfan was also slightly self-conscious as he had a mild stammer. He was a photographer, though he was not employed as one at Drik. He still joined us on photo shoots. He made friends easily with his disarming smile, but was less comfortable with more public roles. Once we closed the wet darkroom at Drik, a lab technician was no longer needed. Given his interest in photography, we tried Irfan out at our school of photography, Pathshala, but it was Drik, where he felt at home, and while he was not normally the person to say no or be defiant, this was one instance where he put his foot down. He was not going to budge from Drik. We had to find a new role for him.
Irfan’s father Mahbubul Islam was a friend I knew from his UNICEF days. Father and son would often come together to Drik and the genial Mahbub Bhai, would talk about the old days. There were problems at home and the young Irfan had to take on responsibilities beyond his years, trying to hold his parents together. Then Irfan himself got married and after their son Ummam’s birth. Zohra, Ummam and Irfan would all come to Drik together. A young bespectacled Ummam, unlike his more reserved father, was happy to play with me, away from his parent’s gaze. Drik was smaller, work pressure was less intense and we had regular family get-togethers. Irfan’s unofficial role was that of the peacemaker. A solid rock when things around were swirling. In an agency where things didn’t always run smoothly, and confrontation with the establishment and other powerful groups not infrequent, Irfan represented stability. He was in charge of money, of valuable documents, sensitive information. He was also the one who saw beyond the immediate tasks working at Drik entailed. He would send me a text, alerting me that a photographer was in danger, or that someone somewhere needed me. He was the one who kept tabs on all the children (part of Drik’s large informal family), who were waiting for their Eidi (Eid presents), and ensured that the gifts reached everyone. It was Irfan people went to, when I needed to be given bad news. When the shit hit the fan, it was Irfan who was the messenger.

He would still join me on photo shoots. Anis (also someone we’ve sadly lost) Irfan and I had gone over to Kuakata on an assignment. It was long before it had become a tourist spot. Suddenly the weather changed and we found ourselves facing a no 10 distress signal. I was on a small boat headed for the bigger boats out at sea. Sensibly, Irfan had stayed behind on land. Sensing danger, we were returning, but it was too late, and our boat had begun to sink in the torrid waves. While this drama played out in the water, the clouds in the horizon lifted and a glorious sunset shimmered underneath the clouds and on the turbulent sea. Even as the boat was sinking, I had my camera out, photographing this spectacular scene. When I made it to dry land, I asked Irfan whether he had some good shots of the boat as it was sinking. “I was too busy praying Innah Lillah” was his immediate response. There had always been a mild competition at the BPS. Who was getting the best photograph and who had won the latest awards, were things that mattered to most. Some of that culture had seeped into Drik as well. But Irfan was different. Competitiveness was not part of his DNA. He was never the one facing the lens, but rather the one ensuring the backroom was in working order. Typically, his concern for me that day, was far more important than getting an award winning image. He was happy I had gotten the photograph. Happier, that I was safe.

Irfan is the last person one would associate with violence or conflict. His own tragic death (he went missing and his body was found by a river in Naryanganj), so incongruent with the peace he emanated, is a timely reminder, that unless we are able to address the basic issues of security and justice in this land of ours, Gabriel will never be far away. Even in death, it is Irfan’s message of peace that we must cling on to.

His last text message to me was simple and brief. House 36/1. Road 5. Dhanmondi. Irfan knew that cryptic message was all that I needed. It was the address of photographer Khaled Muhammad Mithu, who had just died in a tragic accident. He was there before me, beside Mithu, even after he had gone. In the Drik 2016 calendar, we listed the people we had lost. Little did we know that Irfan and Mithu would join that list soon after.

Goodbye my quiet friend. May the peace that you radiated, stay with us when you are gone. May your infectious smile linger in our memory. In this competitive world of ours, where success is largely measured by money and glitter, may we find time to reflect and ponder. May you always stay in our thoughts.

This beautiful song by Abida Parveen was sent to me by Stephanie Ravel in Bahrain, in response to my words on Irfan. I enclose the transcript:
0:40  kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya What wondrous secrets should I speak of to the Friend who lives in His friend’s heart?
0:50  kahoon? secrets should I speak of?
0:52  kahoon?secrets should I speak of?
0:58  kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya What wondrous secrets should I speak of to the Friend who lives in His friend’s heart?
1:05  kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya What wondrous secrets should I speak of to the Friend who lives in His friend’s heart?
1:15  rahi dushmanon se mulaaqaat kya kya What moment was spent in the thought of anything but Him?
1:24  kahoon? secrets should I speak of?
1:29 kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya What wondrous secrets should I speak of to the Friend who lives in His friend’s heart?
1:39  kahoon? secrets should I speak of?
1:51  wuh ishwe wuh ghamze Those heart-stopping glances, those mischievous graces
1:56  wuh naghme wuh jalwe That rapturous music, that dazzling unveiling
2:01  wuh ishwe wuh ghamze Those heart-stopping glances, those mischievous graces
2:05  wuh naghme wuh jalwe That rapturous music, that dazzling unveiling
2:11  wuh ishwe wuh ghamze Those heart-stopping glances, those mischievous graces
2:15  wuh naghme wuh jalwe That rapturous music, that dazzling unveiling
2:20  talab kar rahe ham aafaat kya kya What wondrous calamities we are seeking!
2:30 talab kar rahe ham aafaat kya kya What wondrous calamities we are seeking!
2:39  kahoon? secrets should I speak of?
2:43  kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya What wondrous secrets should I speak of to the Friend who lives in His friend’s heart?
2:52  kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya What wondrous secrets should I speak of to the Friend who lives in His friend’s heart?
3:01  kahoon? secrets should I speak of?
3:21  jahaan mujh ko aaya khayaal aa gaye wuh As soon as His thought appeared, He appeared in my heart
3:31  jahaan mujh ko As soon as?
3:33  jahaan mujh ko aaya khayaal aa gaye wuh As soon as His thought appeared, He appeared in my heart
3:40  jahaan mujh ko aaya khayaal aa gaye wuh As soon as His thought appeared, He appeared in my heart
3:43  khayaal aa gaye wuh He appeared in my heart
3:48  jahaan mujh ko aaya khayaal aa gaye wuh As soon as His thought appeared, He appeared in my heart
3:58 dikhaayi hain dil ne karaamaat kya kya What wondrous miracles the heart has accomplished!
4:07 dikhaayi accomplished!
4:11  dikhaayi hain dil ne the heart has accomplished!
4:16  dikhaaeen hain has accomplished!
4:24  dikhaayi hain dil ne karaamaat kya kya What wondrous miracles the heart has accomplished!
4:34  kahoon secrets should I speak of?
4:38  kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya What wondrous secrets should I speak of to the Friend who lives in His friend’s heart?
4:59  nah thi guftugu darmiyaan phir bhi un se Though nothing was said to Him face to face
5:08 nah thi guftugu Nothing was said
5:12  guftugu Said
5:22 guftugu Said
5:33  nah thi guftugu darmiyaan phir bhi un se Though nothing was said to Him face to face
5:42  pas-i parda-i dil hui baat kya kya What wondrous conversation occurred behind the curtain of the heart!
5:51  kahoon secrets should I speak of?
5:56 kahoon dost se dost ki baat kya kya What wondrous secrets should I speak of to the Friend who lives in His friend’s heart?
6:06  kahoon secrets should I speak of?