Professor Dr. Akhtar Baloch, the former Vice-Chancellor of Shaheed Benazir Bhutto University, Lyari, breathed his last on May 23, 2025, after losing a battle against multiple myeloma. A battle that he faced with quiet strength and dignity.
During a brief visit to Pakistan in 1989, just a year into my PhD studies in Australia, I first met Akhtar Baloch. I was here to present a research paper at an international conference. I called on several old friends and faculty members during this visit, including Professor Arshad Karim. He introduced me to two young faculty members in his department, remarking, “These two are liberals.” One of them immediately interjected in a thick Lyari accent, “No, sir, I’m not a liberal, I’m a leftist.” That leftist was Akhtar Baloch.
Curious, I asked where he had been previously. He replied, “I was in BSO,” referring to the Baloch Students Organization. I mentioned a close friend from my student days, Majeed Baloch, who was once the BSO’s secretary general. “He’s my cousin,” Akhtar said. That was the beginning of a friendship that would deepen over the next three and a half decades.
By the time I returned to Pakistan permanently in 1992, Akhtar had become a part of our intellectual and social circle, which included Professor Muhammad Qaiser, Professor Abdul Qadeer, Professor Ajmal Khan, Professor Khursheed Athar Siddiqui, Professor Shahid Zaidi, and others. Some were driven by revolutionary fervour; others by personal bonds. Akhtar embodied both.
After earning his master’s in Political Science and joining the department as a lecturer, Akhtar progressed well in academia. However, a sudden administrative reshuffle during Professor Abdul Wahab’s tenure moved him and three colleagues from Political Science to Public Administration. Akhtar was initially hesitant but eventually embraced the change, earned a PhD in Public Administration, and became a Professor and Chair.
He was always ready to help. Once, when a colleague was allotted an unlivable house, Akhtar marched us to the house allotment chairperson’s office and got it changed. One day, when an ad appeared for the position of Vice Chancellor of Shaheed Benazir Bhutto University, Lyari, he sought advice. I cautioned him to apply but to prepare for rejection. He applied anyway and was shortlisted for the post. An interview was scheduled, but he later revealed he didn’t own a suit. We went to Bahadurabad and bought one, and while waiting for the length of the trousers to be altered, he received a call from the Governor’s House: he had been appointed Acting Vice Chancellor.
We rushed off, borrowed a tie with a playful promise to return it “if the wedding didn’t happen,” and got him to the Governor’s House. The selection committee eventually confirmed him as the Vice Chancellor. Despite facing intense opposition, mostly from those unsettled by his efforts to reform lavish administrative traditions, he remained steadfast. He moved meetings from five-star hotels to the HEC office, saving public funds and challenging entrenched practices.
His principled stance invited resistance. He was once accused of sending an inappropriate message from his phone. Though the inquiry committee found no evidence, he was placed on forced leave for the remainder of his tenure. While other vice-chancellors of Sindh, facing the same situation, challenged the orders in the courts and got the orders annulled, Akhtar, despite our encouragement, chose not to litigate.
It was during this time that illness crept in. I visited when I could. On my last visit, I noticed that the illness was taking over. On May 23, around 1:30 pm, Professor Shahid Zaidi called: Akhtar was gone. Akhtar Baloch was a simple man of exceptional intellect. He possessed a sharp political mind and a wicked sense of humour, delivering lines that lingered for their wit and warmth. We played cards together, especially when Professor Waheed Akhtar visited from Lahore. We’d tease Akhtar with accusations of cheating just to rile him up—he’d often throw the cards down in mock anger.
Akhtar, be ready. We’re coming. The game’s on again—but no cheating, please.
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