“The Library That Grew From Grief” By Adnan Saeed | In memory of my father, Barey Sir Marh

When my father passed away, the world didn't just lose a teacher. I lost my mentor, my role model, and my reason to teach.

At that time, I was still a student—young, grieving, unsure—but already teaching intermediate students. My father, lovingly known as Barey Sir Marhoom, wasn't just my father—he was my teacher's teacher. After his death, I tried stepping into his classroom to continue his legacy. But the silence in that room wasn't just empty—it was sacred. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even stand in his place. It was emotionally impossible.

So I made a decision: his classroom would no longer echo with loss—it would glow with learning.

Though I had no funds, I had plenty of books. Dozens of them—every subject of Business Studies I had ever taught or studied. I brought a dining table from my home, placed ten mismatched chairs around it, and set out my books with reverence.

That was the humble birth of the SACE Library.

Students started using it immediately. And gradually, with the help of Allah, it grew. We added more books—from Intermediate to MBA, CA, and CMA levels. We subscribed to DAWN newspaper and Herald magazine to keep students updated. And the most beautiful part? Senior students who had graduated from SACE began visiting the library daily to guide juniors—passing the torch forward with grace.

From a table of grief emerged a room of growth. From silence came service. From loss came legacy.

Today, when I look back, I don't just remember the books, the chairs, or the computers we later added. I remember the spirit that made it all possible. The belief that even in sorrow, a teacher can continue teaching—through shelves instead of sentences.

This was not just a library.

This was a tribute to my father. A classroom reborn. A mission reawakened.