I did not know him when he lived. But in his death, in the way he died, I mourn him like a son. His dreams were unfamiliar to my agnostic world. He wanted to become a scholar and teacher of the Quran, and perhaps, one day, an imam. For this, from the age of six, he was sent to a madrasa, in neighbouring Nuh in Haryana. He was a sincere and bright student, who had memorised the Quran, all 80,000 words of the holy text. He was to be declared a hafiz in recognition of this achievement. Hafiz in Arabic means both one who remembers, but also one who is a custodian of the sacred words of the Quran. He would return to his home only once a year, during the month of Ramzan. This year he proudly recited the entire Quran from memory to pious gatherings of his own village over 20 days. He had completed this recitation of the Quran one day before he died. In appreciation, the villagers had made small offerings of money to him. His father added his contribution, and with a total sum of Rs 1,500