Rahat Kazmi: A Teacher, A Mentor, A Friend

The room seemed to light up when Rahat Kazmi entered with the other theatre faculty members. It was my first day at the National Academy of Performing Arts (NAPA), and we were attending an orientation session with all our teachers. When Rahat Sahib walked in, impeccably dressed, and carrying himself with effortless grace, my heart skipped a beat. He was, after all, the heartthrob of an entire generation, celebrated for his unforgettable portrayal of Dr. Ahmer in Dhoop Kinare. Looking around the room, I wondered how anyone could concentrate in his classes when everyone seemed so captivated by him.

Rahat Sahib was assigned to teach us the History of Theatre. His expertise extended far beyond performance. He was exceptionally well-read and intellectually rigorous. From the very first lecture, our admiration for him deepened. He constantly challenged us with difficult questions that demanded serious reading and preparation. His knowledge of literature, history, philosophy, and theatre often made me reconsider how I spent my own time. He expected facts, context, and precision. Whenever he assigned a play, I would not only read the text but also explore related literature, hoping to impress him with my preparation.

I have always admired strict teachers. Ever since my school days, earning the respect of a demanding mentor felt like a challenge worth pursuing. Rahat Sahib embodied that ideal. He once assigned us Tota Kahani, a television play by Ahmed Ahmed, and later directed us in Hamlet, in which I played Gertrude.

Working under his direction was a master class in itself. He had an extraordinary understanding of sound, rhythm, and the musicality of dialogue. Equally remarkable was his meticulous attention to mise-en-scène and the overall visual composition of a production. It was easy to understand why so many students wanted to study acting with him.

What distinguished Rahat Sahib was not merely his talent as an actor or director, but his depth as a teacher and thinker. He encouraged us to look beyond the surface of a text and engage critically with it. During discussions on classical Greek theatre, for example, he expected us not only to understand the plots of plays such as Oedipus Rex, but also to examine their social, political, and historical contexts in light of their relevance to contemporary theatre. His classes expanded our understanding of the art form and challenged us to become more thoughtful practitioners.

Travelling with Rahat Sahib was another enriching experience. His presence was magnetic wherever we went, whether in Lahore, Islamabad, or Delhi.  During a visit to Delhi for a performance of Khawboon Kay Musafir, directed by Zia Mohyeddin, I witnessed his generosity firsthand. I was the lighting designer for the production, and our stay lasted four days. It was our first visit to India, and naturally, everyone was eager to explore the city's bazaars and historic sites. Having visited India many times before, Rahat Sahib understood our excitement completely.

When I asked if I could leave rehearsal early to join my colleagues, he simply smiled and said, “No problem. Go and enjoy yourself. I’ll handle the rehearsal.”

His kindness extended beyond such gestures. He took us to an elegant restaurant and even proposed a trip to the Taj Mahal. The early departure meant, however, that few were willing to make the journey; only Rahat Sahib, Akber Bhai, and I ended up going. In the end, the plan remained an amusing possibility.

The pandemic brought another dimension to our relationship. While the world was confined indoors, Rahat Sahib and I found companionship through books. He would send a book through his driver, who passed it on to our household staff. Once I finished reading it, we would discuss it at length over the phone. Over time, we exchanged nearly fifty books, creating an ongoing dialogue about literature, ideas, and life.

Those conversations had a profound impact on me. They inspired me to write, translate, and engage more seriously with literature. It was Rahat Sahib who recommended that I read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. His encouragement eventually led me to translate the novel, making it my first major literary translation project. In many ways, that achievement owes its existence to his faith in my abilities and his passion for sharing books. He also wrote the foreword to my translation, an honour I continue to value deeply. Knowing that he recognised my potential as a translator filled me with immense pride and gratitude.

Despite his fame, knowledge, and accomplishments, Rahat Sahib remains one of the most humble individuals I have ever met. He is approachable, generous, and deeply supportive of his students and colleagues, always encouraging those willing to work hard to achieve excellence in their chosen fields. He has a rare ability to make people feel valued and heard.

Beyond his intellectual pursuits, he also enjoys gossip and storytelling, and much of our friendship has been built on sharing news, anecdotes, and laughter. This combination of wisdom and warmth makes him all the more endearing.

Rahat Kazmi's influence on me extends far beyond the theatre classroom. He taught us to look more closely, read more widely, and question more deeply. For me, that lesson continued long after I left NAPA, in the books we exchanged, the conversations we shared, and the translation he encouraged me to undertake.

Perhaps that is the mark of a true teacher: not simply what they teach in the classroom, but what they inspire you to pursue long after you have left it.