My introduction to Rafi bhai took place at Amherst College in 1994. He became my mentor, my friend and a really fun guy to hang out with. This website has many pictures of Rafi bhai. You will notice that he has a huge grin on his face in every one of them. That pretty much says it all - Rafi bhai was the only person I know of who could not be anything but happy. And he took it as his sole mission in life to make everyone around him happy. He succeeded without fail. Nothing fazed him or bothered him. I can recount several nights when he would come over to my room or invite me over to his room just to chat. Invariably on every such occasion he either had a law paper due, or a political science exam to take the next day. But he didn't care - he was just too high on life to worry about papers or exams. Much of his attitude brushed up on me (for better or for worse depending on whom you ask ofcourse!). There is nothing I can possible say about Rafi that hasn't been said already. And nothing that anybody says will ever do justice to the true nature of his spirit. Those who were fortunate enough to know him can attest to the truth of my statement. My Amherst days were made special because of him. He helped me out with my studies, he partied with me, he hung out with me and he made me want to be a better person. I will cherish my memories with him until such time that I have the honor of meeting him again. Knowing him, he'll find a way to make that happen.
My introduction to Rafi bhai took place at Amherst College in 1994. He became my mentor, my friend and a really fun guy to hang out with. This website has many pictures of Rafi bhai. You will notice that he has a huge grin on his face in every one of them. That pretty much says it all - Rafi bhai was the only person I know of who could not be anything but happy. And he took it as his sole mission in life to make everyone around him happy. He succeeded without fail. Nothing fazed him or bothered him. I can recount several nights when he would come over to my room or invite me over to his room just to chat. Invariably on every such occasion he either had a law paper due, or a political science exam to take the next day. But he didn't care - he was just too high on life to worry about papers or exams. Much of his attitude brushed up on me (for better or for worse depending on whom you ask ofcourse!).
There is nothing I can possible say about Rafi that hasn't been said already. And nothing that anybody says will ever do justice to the true nature of his spirit. Those who were fortunate enough to know him can attest to the truth of my statement. My Amherst days were made special because of him. He helped me out with my studies, he partied with me, he hung out with me and he made me want to be a better person. I will cherish my memories with him until such time that I have the honor of meeting him again.
Knowing him, he'll find a way to make that happen.
My curiosity had reached its peak by the end of September ' 94 after hearing so much about him from his mutual friends at Smith. Who is this Rafi? Why does everybody talk about him? I found my answers very soon after and became a dedicated member of his fan club. As friends we were close and apart. We were close because he had access to my mind. We were apart because he fiercely guarded his innermost feelings. He was an extrovert who hardly spoke about how he felt. According to him, everything was going to be all right. I questioned his eternal optimism, but like many of us, took shelter in it. Here is one story I can tell without violating anyone's privacy. One time I fell down the stairs and lost my toe-nail. It was painful. Few days later we all went to a Spring Formal were Rafi came too. We all sat down to dine and I was telling Rafi about my toe. Suddenly he was not sitting next to me. He was under the table starting at my toe as if he saw dinosaur DNA under the microscope. Before I knew, he squeezed my toe as I screamed at the top of my voice. He stood up and said, "Oh, it hurts?" He did not apologize, but smiled the Rafi-smile, and all was forgiven. To many of you, this may not be how he was, but to me this event captured many pieces of him. He was an aggressively curious character who wanted to remain oblivious of how much his mannerisms had an impact on others. He was carefully careless with his charm, but cautious and passionate about his words. How he felt about his actions was not always why he acted in the first place. But he could explain it all if he wanted. It was difficult to overlook his wittiness. It was impossible not to laugh at his obscene jokes. And it was unimaginable to have a get together and not have Rafi around. I remember him describing a brilliant author with his eyes, portraying a beautiful woman with his hands, and shaking his head with a Hmm when he did not want to answer. I also remember his nods as he read, his puffy hair as he brushed it at any chance he got and made it puffier, and his uncoordinated moves on dance floor next to his girlfriend who moved in style. I cherished his genuine wish to make someone happy. I adored his intense affection and longing for his little sister. And I will never forget how he often said all is fair in love and war. I am so happy that we met and hope that his soul is in good hands.
As friends we were close and apart. We were close because he had access to my mind. We were apart because he fiercely guarded his innermost feelings. He was an extrovert who hardly spoke about how he felt. According to him, everything was going to be all right. I questioned his eternal optimism, but like many of us, took shelter in it.
Here is one story I can tell without violating anyone's privacy. One time I fell down the stairs and lost my toe-nail. It was painful. Few days later we all went to a Spring Formal were Rafi came too. We all sat down to dine and I was telling Rafi about my toe. Suddenly he was not sitting next to me. He was under the table starting at my toe as if he saw dinosaur DNA under the microscope. Before I knew, he squeezed my toe as I screamed at the top of my voice. He stood up and said, "Oh, it hurts?" He did not apologize, but smiled the Rafi-smile, and all was forgiven. To many of you, this may not be how he was, but to me this event captured many pieces of him. He was an aggressively curious character who wanted to remain oblivious of how much his mannerisms had an impact on others. He was carefully careless with his charm, but cautious and passionate about his words. How he felt about his actions was not always why he acted in the first place. But he could explain it all if he wanted. It was difficult to overlook his wittiness. It was impossible not to laugh at his obscene jokes. And it was unimaginable to have a get together and not have Rafi around.
I remember him describing a brilliant author with his eyes, portraying a beautiful woman with his hands, and shaking his head with a Hmm when he did not want to answer. I also remember his nods as he read, his puffy hair as he brushed it at any chance he got and made it puffier, and his uncoordinated moves on dance floor next to his girlfriend who moved in style.
I cherished his genuine wish to make someone happy. I adored his intense affection and longing for his little sister. And I will never forget how he often said all is fair in love and war.
I am so happy that we met and hope that his soul is in good hands.
I remember his face, that big smile from ear to ear, I remember the way he would punctuate his words with waves of his hands in that particular way. His incredibly sweet smile. I guess that's what I remember most about him, his smile. I remember his voice distinctly, his laughter and his words. I did not have the fortune of knowing Rafi for as long as some of his other friends have. But even the short three years that I did know him, he managed to cram in a lifetime's worth of friendship. Most of all, I remember how impressed I was with his intellect. Rafi Ahmed was a unique combination of genius, endearing vulnerability and self-confidence, one destined for greatness. I am very glad that I had the opportunity to be his friend. I am very glad that he was here with us even if it was for a short while.
Rafi Ahmed. Say's a lot - right there. I truly got to know him well in the United States. Towards the end of his life, his personality, ever the atypical that it was, began to make sense to me for the first time. I suppose the ability to understand such an unusual person generally requires a healthy dose of wisdom - something that time and proximity ultimately builds within the human conscience. I'll keep this short.
Perhaps without a shadow of a doubt, Shujon's lasting legacy to me is what I found to be his inability to imbibe and propagate the worldview, or to borrow a post-modernistic term, "grand narrative" of Amherst College. Ironically, he stood against every "success" that a college such as Amherst envisioned and demanded of its students. The phenomena is all the more complicated by the fact that Amherst was the institution where he wanted to be enlightened at more than any other. But such is the paradox of is Rafi Ahmed.
In the many hours, days, and years we have spent together at Amherst, I found within Shujon an individual who severely lacked any desire for mundane success. It simply never moved him. Unlike the rest of us, I suppose, Shujon never commodified thought, discourse, and knowledge. Consequently, unlike most of us, he was neither desirous nor capable of creating a dualistic personality that was sustainable in his short life. I think this created an incredible impression in me, although, much to my sorrow, I did not notice it in his presence.
When all is said and done, Shujon is most remembered in my heart for that reason which I believe is in serious dearth today. He had sincerely, more than any human soul I am aware of, cultivated a love of learning. This love was pure, whole, and complete - an utter rarity in today's "doggy-dog" world. It was not a means with which to obtain good grades (although he was more than capable of that), a good job, or even to be social elevated. No, it was to know for the sake of knowing. For him, knowledge was not a conduit into the mundane, but rather the tool with which to illuminate and librate the human mind.
Truly, this is his ultimate teaching and great gift to me. Although it came to fruition in that little town of western Massachusetts, in looking back, his whole life carried this message.
Shujon, I salute you with a worthy salutation, my dear friend. May God's blessings be with you eternally.