Sometimes it is a choice made instinctively, at the edge of a precipice, that defines a person’s character. Faraaz’s ultimate test came in the midst of numbing terror. When the Holey Artisan attackers on July 1, 2016 gave him the option to escape, there was no question of leaving behind his two childhood friends—Abinta and Tarishi, both young women, both representing to the deranged terrorists what they had been brainwashed to despise. For Faraaz, when it became evident that there was no hope for his friends, the choice was clear: he chose to stay and embrace whatever fate lay before him. He was not one to abandon his core values of friendship, loyalty, and protectiveness. No one would have thought that this shy, lanky 20-year-old—the baby of the family who obsessively supported Manchester United and was an incorrigible prankster to his friends, who was brought up in comfort and luxury, and still a teenager at heart—would be the hero of the hour. No one except his mother Simeen Rahman, whose heart froze when she heard that Bangladeshis were being freed, but foreigners were not. Abinta was a Bangladeshi-born American citizen and Tarishi was Indian. There was no way he would leave them to save himself—this is what she told her elder son Zaraif during the agonising wait that night, words that proved prophetic.
But then again, this was characteristic Faraaz, who, from a very young age, had developed a deep sense of what it meant to do the right thing. Strangely, when you look back into his short life, it is hard to find a blemish, something to make him less flawless than he was. An outstanding student throughout his school years up until his Junior year at Emory University, Atlanta, US, when his life was so cruelly cut short, a resolute sportsman excelling in athletics and volleyball, a devoted son, an adoring brother, a doting grandchild, nephew, cousin and most remarkably, the most loyal, empathetic friend anyone could have… his track record is unusually squeaky clean. Perhaps it was because his life on earth was destined to be a brief but significant twenty years.
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He was a natural leader, elected president of his school’s student council and president of the school’s executive council when graduating from the American International School in Dhaka. While his teachers found in him the ideal student, his fellow students could unfailingly rely on his camaraderie and kindness, a connection that endured well after graduating high school. In fact, Abinta Kabir and Tarishi Jain were two of his closest friends from school, Abinta also being a fellow Emory student and Tarishi studying at UC Berkeley.
He had unique relationships with each person in his life. His mother, Simeen Rahman, was his and his brother’s rock and took the role of parent, mentor, confidante and buddy all rolled into one. Growing up with a strong, professionally successful and loving mother who always made time for her sons, no matter how hectic her work schedule, Faraaz, lovingly called Chotoo, learnt to respect and value women, something that stayed with him till his last breath. He shared a rare friendship with his older brother Zaraif Hossain and, for all those twenty years, rarely were they apart—being roommates throughout their childhood and even when they attended the same university in the US. The two beds in the bedroom the brothers shared in all their growing years are still there even now, with one of the occupants missing, a favourite toy from his childhood on the bed as if waiting for him to return. He had the most loving relationship with his grandparents and both brothers thought of them as their second set of parents. He always wanted to be like his Nana Bhai, his grandfather Latifur Rahman (founder, chairman and CEO of Transcom Group) who by strange coincidence passed away in 2020 on July 1—the very day his dear Choton (Faraaz) had left him, heartbroken and utterly lost, five years ago.
Those who have been lucky to have known him since he was a little boy will remember him being part of an inseparable group of four—Zaraif, Faraaz, Zoheb and Mikhail—the last two his maternal aunt’s sons. Most people thought they were four brothers, always impeccably dressed and with the most endearing manners, who mercilessly teased each other and shared a rare, unbreakable bond. The band of brothers has never been the same in his absence.
To say that he was loved would be an understatement—it was hard not to. That handsome face and dazzling smile was the window to a pure heart that knew how to give most magnanimously and embrace humility. It is no wonder that even after his passing, there will be thousands who will remember him for his generosity, his love for his country, his family, his friends and the act of courage that caught the world’s attention. Faraaz is probably one of the few young men recognised posthumously with such prestigious awards as the Mother Teresa Memorial International Awards for 2016 that honour individuals and organisations promoting peace, equality and social justice, and a unique recognition by the Garden of the Righteous Worldwide on July 15, 2016 through the planting of a tree inside the Italian Embassy in Tunis in honour of Faraaz, for being one of “the righteous fighting fanaticism”. PepsiCo, meanwhile, initiated the annual “Faraaz Hossain Courage Award” from 2016, to be awarded each year for twenty years to “recognise acts of exceptional courage by individuals setting examples of empathy for fellow human beings, to encourage the spirit of bravery among Bangladeshi youth”. The Goizueta Business School of Emory University has recognised Faraaz as a graduate of the Class of 2018 (when he would have attained that distinction) and introduced the Faraaz Hossain Core Values Award.
July 1, 2016 will always be one of the darkest chapters of our history when a group of young men swathed in a distorted, demented ideology ruthlessly cut short the lives of 22 people, including 17 foreigners. They included seven Japanese citizens who were working on the Dhaka Metro Rail project, nine Italians and an Indian (Tarishi) who had come back to do an internship in the summer. The attackers conformed to the stereotypes of Muslims hyped up by Islamophobes and reinforced by fellow militants—young delusional men frenzied by hate and blinded by misogynistic views, who misinterpreted Islam as a religion that encouraged violence against anyone who did not conform to their twisted ideology. But it was one young man, Faraaz Ayaaz Hossain, who changed the narrative of this oft-told story of the young male Muslim terrorist. A practicing Muslim who had performed Umrah several times and could have saved himself by reciting a few verses from the Quran as he had learnt from childhood, he chose love over hatred, inclusion over discrimination and courage over cowardice, displaying what he believed a true believer of the faith is supposed to be.
The militants left behind only grief, terror and devastation. Faraaz, in those seconds before death, left behind for the world an example of what youth is meant to be—a beacon of fearlessness, humanity and hope. While we mourn with his family for the excruciating loss of his life, we cannot help but share their pride in the sheer tenacity with which he proved to be such a rare and exemplary human being.
Aasha Mehreen Amin is Head of Editorial and Opinion, Senior Deputy Editor, The Daily Star.
