Qavi Sahib: A Gentleman Beyond the Screen

Some people leave a lasting impression not because of their fame, but because of their character. The legendary actor Muhammad Qavi Khan was one of them. Millions knew him as a versatile performer who graced television, film, and theatre for decades. He appeared in over 200 films and was honoured with the Pride of Performance in 1980, and the Sitara-e-Imtiaz in 2012. I was fortunate to know another side of him: the humble, kind, and generous human being behind the celebrated artist. 

I first met Qavi Sahib in 2008, when he came to Karachi to perform in Nawab Sahib Qibla, directed by Usman Peerzada at the Arts Council of Pakistan, Karachi. I was designing the lighting, which meant a full week working alongside the cast and crew.

I had known him only through his television and film work, and I expected a senior artist of his stature to keep a distance from younger theatre practitioners. Qavi Sahib was the complete opposite.

Backstage before one performance, I saw him sitting quietly with his eyes closed, preparing himself. There was no commotion and no demands. He would arrive nearly three hours early and sit calmly once his makeup and costume were done, conserving his energy and focusing on his role. He treated everyone with respect, regardless of age or experience. He had no tantrums, no airs, and no wish to remind anyone of his status. Some people command attention through authority. Qavi Sahib commanded it through grace.

A decade later, in 2018, I travelled to Islamabad for a three-day convention on shaping Pakistan’s Cultural Policy. Artists, musicians, writers, filmmakers, and performers from across the country had gathered, and we stayed at the Marriott Hotel. Qavi Sahib was an early riser, so I began waking early too and heading straight to breakfast, simply to spend more time in his company.

Despite being among the most respected actors in the country, his lifestyle was remarkably simple. His breakfast was modest, and he never made special demands. Wahab Shah, Waqar Ali, and I practically attached ourselves to him, listening to his stories with fascination. He often spoke of people from the industry, including Waqar Ali’s father, with affection and respect. Not once did he speak negatively about anyone. In an industry often filled with competition and gossip, that felt extraordinary. He was living proof that success does not have to harden a person.

During a session on Pakistani cinema, Qavi Sahib spoke about a film project in which he had invested his personal savings. He was honest about its struggles: censorship trouble despite nothing objectionable, and financial strain that led him to pay many actors in instalments. With his usual humour, he said he had finally completed the payment to Humayun Qureshi after eighteen years. The audience laughed, but behind the humour was a story of perseverance.

Then the atmosphere changed. There was no performance, no exaggeration, and no attempt to impress. The hall, filled with nearly a thousand people, fell silent. When he finished, the audience rose to its feet, and the applause continued for several minutes. People did not want him to stop. I remember tears in my eyes as I watched them celebrate a man who had given his life to the arts with integrity and dignity.

One memory still makes me smile. When we boarded a bus to visit the Pakistan National Council of the Arts, senior artists naturally took the front seats. Qavi Sahib walked straight to the back and cheerfully announced, ‘I am a young boy, so I will leave the front seats for the elderly people’. The whole bus burst into laughter. Naturally, we all followed him, because that was where the best conversations happened. Looking back, those three days felt like a masterclass, not in acting, but in humility, kindness, and grace.

My final meeting with him was at the Arts Council in Karachi. Years had passed, yet he remembered me immediately. He was escorted away to another engagement, but he waved from a distance with the same warmth I had always known. I assumed we would meet again. Within a year, he was gone. He passed away in Canada in March 2023 after a long illness.

Audiences will remember Muhammad Qavi Khan for his extraordinary performances. I will remember him for something greater: his humanity. In a profession where fame often overshadows character, Qavi Sahib remained a gentleman until the end. And perhaps that is the role for which he deserves the greatest applause.