STILL strapped to his plane seat, unconscious and falling from a crashing Airbus 320, he rammed into the rooftop of a three-floor building before landing on the bonnet of a Suzuki Cultus. Ninety-seven out of the 99 people on board lost their lives. Zafar Masud is one of the two survivors.
Recently, he wrote a book revisiting this horrific near-death experience and his miraculous survival. He has candidly and thoughtfully shared what he has been through, and how it has changed him and his perspective on life.
The book largely consists of 10 lessons gleaned from this extraordinary experience. Each lesson has a dedicated chapter. In describing these lessons, he has, through the lens of his personal ordeal, explored systemic problems, the goodness and arrogance of human beings, and evolving worldviews. He has drawn on history, literature, research and his perspectives on personal and societal development. The titles of the 10 chapters reflect the approach: ‘Arrogance’; ‘Dues’; ‘Goodness’; ‘Sincerity’; ‘Miracles’; ‘Willpower’; ‘Rituals’; ‘Bold Steps’; ‘Communication’; and ‘Legacy’.
We all remember the breaking news about the crash of PK-8303 on May 22, 2020, as the plane approached Jinnah International Airport in Karachi. It was the last Friday of Ramzan and Eid was approaching. The plane crashed into the high and illegally constructed buildings of Model Colony adjacent to the airport. Zafar Masud, president and CEO of the Bank of Punjab, was seated in aisle seat 1C, now the name of his book.
Here is a survivor’s tale of hope, resilience and renewal.
It was an entirely manmade disaster. An overconfident and negligent pilot tried to descend sharply from an unusual height close to the airport, apparently disregarding repeated advice from air traffic control to descend gradually by taking another round. The staff in aerodrome control had failed to notice that the plane’s landing gear was not extended. The plane descended to make a belly landing, scraped the ground and tried to go up again; it was too late, its fate was sealed a mile away from the runway. The pilot and ground staff’s attitude was a reflection of the “systemic arrogance” and “large-scale institutional decay” that has permeated all levels of our society.
This was the sixth plane crash in Pakistan’s airspace within a decade. According to the writer, the stories of the previous five illustrate that the crash was not an isolated tragedy but the outcome of systemic negligence.
Just before he fainted, he describes a voice telling him that he was going to survive. In those 30 seconds, his whole life flashed before him. He felt no significant regrets but there were things he wished he could have done earlier. “Emotional dues” towards his loved ones stood out. He explains how this realisation changed his perspective on life: “I no longer suppress things”.
Inherent selfless human goodness and sincerity become evident during times of emergency. There are always Waqases, Rizwans, Tahirs, and Farhans who come to the rescue. Masud has explained in detail how these individuals from Model Colony rescued him and Zubair, the only other survivor, from the wreckage.
In hospital, recovering from a painful burnt back, a broken hand, and a splintered knee, he was wracked by survivor’s guilt. He started contemplating why he had survived and whether it was a miracle. He eventually concluded that he had been saved for no reason other than his parents’ prayers. His survival has since led him to a frenzied search for meaning.
He recounts the ordeal of the families of the victims as they identified the bodies of their loved ones, in many cases just scattered in small, unidentifiable parts. DNA testing was cumbersome and families ran from pillar to post for many days, full of grief and frustration. Streamlining the correct identification of the bodies of the victims must become a part of our national emergency preparedness plan.
We underestimate the willpower that comes to our rescue in times of trauma and struggle. He talks about the willpower and cognitive reframing which sustained him during long, painful sojourns in hospitals, on surgery tables and with physiotherapists.
Inherent willpower is fortified when mental health advice is sought to deal with post-traumatic stress, instead of facing internal turmoil with a stiff upper lip. There is no shame in reaching out for psychological counselling, which Masud did while in hospital. He talks about it in his chapter on ‘Bold steps’, and in so doing takes on the stigma attached to mental health issues. He now associates himself with mental health promotion initiatives across the country such as the Milkar media campaign. To overcome the fearful hesitation that might have persisted for the rest of his life, he returned to Lahore on the same flight, with the same airline, in the same seat only four months after the crash.
In Seat 1C’s final chapter on ‘Legacy’, he wants to leave behind something concrete. He attaches a lot of importance to literature. His own experience of growing up in a family of creative artists convinces him of the importance of art and literature. He is the son of well-known TV and film actor Munawar Saeed, who is closely related to famous poets Rais Amrohvi and Jon Elia and filmmaker Kamal Amrohvi. He promotes art and literature by sponsoring literary festivals through his organisation. Since the crash, he has begun to work towards the economic betterment of poor people around him with a sense of urgency. He has also set up the Zafar Masud Foundation as a dedicated organisation that works on passenger safety.
All in all, he has done a great service by writing and sharing his experience and thoughts. In his own words, writing this book was a labour of love and catharsis. His book will continue as a sustained aftershock for his readers. Thank you, Zafar Masud, for opening your heart to us.
The writer is a former health minister and currently a professor of health systems & population
By Zafar Mirza Published in Dawn on May 16, 2025
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