Sharif Ahmad was true to his grit and appellation, an officer and a gentleman. He died suddenly, leaving behind a trail of thoughts that I must reassemble now. I came to know Sharif about 10 years ago as my colleague at Abbott Laboratories. With a CPA from UK, Sharif looked more an Englishman than from a traditional family of Dillawalas. It is when he spoke Urdu using colloquial Delhi language (aanke) that we would instantly discern his lineage. His family in Pakistan is well known; from top businessmen to a brother-in-law, who is the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, he had much to talk about. Sharif however never felt the need to utter a single word about his family lineage or affiliations. He did not need to. He was a man full of strong convictions and he stood by himself. Though he and I were poles apart on many fundamental issues of belief, what I admired about Sharif was his unwavering belief in his religion, his community, his family and above all his profession. When it came to work ethics there was no doubt that he was an officer and when it came to dealing with people, he was a thorough gentleman. Losing Sharif in his mid-fifties meant losing a lot; not only for his profession but also to his family. Though the world goes on, the time never waits, but the slot a person makes in the heart of others remains. When I met his two sons, both ready to enter college, I felt a great surge in my belief of the existence of Almighty. They have just been given a dictum to grow instantly. I told them about the Gaussian distribution of events in statistical modeling and explained to them that we should never question, "Why us," for God can also retort, "Why not you?" I am sure they did not understand it; at least until now but I am sure they will, with time and thus receive great inner strength.

During my days at Abbott, it was a ritual for us to share Sharif’s lunch that came in a brown bag, which comprised one chicken sandwich and two apples. We ate the apples. He would never eat the food at Abbott unless when it would be lentils. He was very careful about his diet but once he spilled out his love for ice cream to us and I was rude enough to rub it in several times. The lunch hour with him was a perky time; he would express his opinions, particularly on ethnic issues, unabashedly and I would question him endlessly to test his resolve. When it came to funny stuff, he was quite so. He would laugh incessantly, turning red in his face, particularly at off-color jokes, of which we always had a good inventory and he always had a reluctant ear.