It is never easy to say farewell to a loved one. It is even more so difficult when you could foresee their potential, their zeal, and passion for things in life. Such was the spirit of Jazib.
Muhammad Jazib was from Lahore, Pakistan, and if you did not know this, you would learn it within ten minutes of conversation with him. He carried his immense love for his hometown on his sleeve, wherever he’d go, and was the absolute representative of the city’s character. He was hospitable, boisterous, and energetic, just like his city. He’d choose the grey skies of Lahore over any clear, blue skies, its crowded and aromatic streets over any other place.
Jazib had immense love for his culture. You’d find him outside during the coldest nights of Beloit, listening to the qawwalis of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. He was an incredibly talented fast bowler, and his passion for cricket was incomparable.
We could fill every page of this paper with words, but it would still not do justice to the vastness of his dreams. While it has been extremely difficult to say goodbye to our friend, it was heartwarming to see a large number of people attend the memorial and share their stories of what Jazib meant to them, and how he showed them kindness even in a brief moment they interacted. Some of his friends have shared a few words to express their gratitude for the memories they shared with Jazib.
Ojaswi “Everything I write I may not achieve, but let everyone know that I had a dream.” – this is my favorite sentence from Jazib. He was very thoughtful and loved to observe. I remember our freshman year, I used to see him lie down in one of the blue chairs at Chapin Quad a lot, listening to Coke Studio music and looking up at the sky. I always thought he would make a great poet and a writer. He was a thinker, a dreamer, a good friend, a kind soul, who meant well. I pray his soul rests in peace, and he knows how much we all love and miss him here.
Tanzil Jazib was not just a thinker, not just a philosopher, he was also the heart of our friend group. He had this incredible ability to bring lightness to any situation, no matter how complicated. His sense of humor was sharp, quick, and always perfectly timed. He was our stand-up comedian, our voice of reason, and the one who reminded us that even in the most serious moments, it was okay to laugh. But beyond his humor, he had a depth to him that made conversations with him unforgettable. He could jump from cracking a joke to discussing life’s biggest questions without missing a beat. He made us think, he made us laugh, and most of all, he taught us some interesting lessons of life.
Ali I miss you, brother. I miss our conversations, your jokes, the way your energy lit up every room, and how we’d high-five over the smallest things. You made everyone around you feel seen, welcomed, and genuinely happy. You were a gem of a person with the biggest heart, and your presence left a huge mark on me. I truly hope you’re in a better place now. The impact you had on me, even in such a short time, is something I’ll carry with me forever and I’ll always be praying for you. Rest easy, brother.
Amna Jazib was one of those rare people you never forget. The kind of person who could make you laugh at the dumbest things and, in the next moment, dive into the deep philosophical questions of life. Time moved differently around him — you’d run into him and end up in a conversation about the meaning of life and everything in between. He had this quiet kindness — the kind you don’t always notice until you look back. He would wait for me to show up and never complained when I would be running late for my shifts, and when I’d apologize, he’d just smile and say, “It’s okay, I was free anyway.” And he meant it. Once, he helped me book a flight and spent hours looking up alternate options because he didn’t want me to be uncomfortable. When I realized my baggage wasn’t included in the fare, he offered to pay for my bags himself. That was Jazib — thoughtful, selfless, always going out of his way for the people he cared about. He was one of my closest friends — someone who made the world a little brighter, a little funnier, and a lot more thoughtful. His presence was calming, comforting, and deeply missed.
Moosa When I first got here, I only knew of Jazib as a guy who had gone back home and was not sure if he would return. Next semester when he came back, he saw me working at Hamiltons and approached me, “I am from Pakistan, and we should chill sometime.” Over 2 years, we were just acquaintances who used to greet each other when crossing paths, but sitting down with him for the first time this semester made me realize interacting with people reveals their true personality. Every time I sat down with him, he mentioned how his friends mean everything to him and how he wants to see them happy and successful. That speaks volumes of his character, as there was never a dull moment with him. Talking to him was like an escape from reality. I remember him saying, “Moosa, you said let’s chill for 10 – 15 mins, but we’ve wasted 3–4 hrs.”
Noor He was, without a doubt, the funniest person I’ve ever known. What I loved most about him was how he made sure everyone felt included. In any group, whether he knew someone well or not, he would always find a way to bring them into the conversation. Even though he could talk a mile a minute, he was also an incredible listener. He genuinely put an effort into getting to know the people around him and would bring their interests into future conversations, making you think, “Oh? You still remember that?” I had the privilege of knowing him not only as a friend but also as a coworker at the library info desk. Every time someone would come up for help, especially with the printer, he’d see the look on my face and, without missing a beat, would say, “Don’t worry, I got this.” His ability to step in and make everything seem effortless, while always keeping the mood light and funny, made every shift enjoyable. We’ve spent countless hours talking, from silly debates about cats to discussing Imran Khan, or even our dreams for the future. He truly was a ray of sunshine. I think I’ll forever miss him for longer than I’ve known him.
Momina Jazib had a way of making every space brighter just by being in it. His laughter would echo across Commons, lingering until their whole group had to be asked to leave. Late-night library shifts became the usual meeting spot, where our conversations ranged from deep, philosophical debates to the most ridiculous, pointless chatter. No matter the topic, time always slipped away unnoticed in his company. Talking to him was never just talking—it was an experience. Being around him meant feeling lighter, laughing more, and seeing the world from new angles—sometimes profound, other times just hilariously absurd. I wish I had told him more often how much his presence meant to us, how his kindness, warmth, laughter, and personality made life a little brighter. I hope he knew that.
Faiq I am at a complete loss of words, I cannot wrap up 3 years of being together with him in 5 lines. He was my brother, my fallback cushion, and my partner in crime. I hope he is in a better place until we meet again. He will always be in my prayers.
Donations in Jazib’s honor will be taken till the end of this month, with Beloit College providing a matching donation at the conclusion of the drive. You can donate electronically or in person to the Dean of Students’ office. All funds will be donated to a local charity in Jazib’s home country of Pakistan.
Featured image: Friends of Jazib
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