Irfan Siddiqui
After five days across Denmark, Sweden and Norway—meeting diplomats, parliamentarians, ministers and Pakistani communities—I returned with a bundle of memories and stories.
Among them, one encounter stands apart. It is the story of a Pakistani whose journey from a remote village in Punjab to the Supreme Court of Denmark carries both the weight of history and the quiet dignity of perseverance.
The tale begins in Dhani, a small village in Kharian tehsil, where Rehmat Khan was born into a modest family before the creation of Pakistan. His father died when he was barely two years old, but hardship did not deter him. He pursued his studies, passed traditional examinations of the time, and eventually became a schoolteacher.
Years later, a newspaper advertisement sparked in him the dream of a better future abroad. With little money, he could not afford air travel. Instead, he journeyed by train, bus and truck across Iran, Turkey and beyond until he reached Denmark, where he found work in a small bakery. By 1975, Rehmat Khan had managed to bring his wife, four daughters and two sons—SaqibHussain and Muhammad Ahsan—to Copenhagen. It is from here that the story takes its remarkable turn, with the spotlight on the younger son, Ahsan.
Educated in Denmark, Ahsan studied law at the University of Copenhagen and went on to serve in the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of Law, the Prime Minister’s Office and later with the Attorney General. He also taught law at the university and authored works on constitutional law, human rights, criminal law and environmental issues. His career seemed distinguished enough—but destiny had more in store.
In April 2018, Ahsan was elevated to the High Court. Four years later, when a vacancy arose in the Supreme Court of Denmark, he applied, underwent rigorous scrutiny and practical testing, and was appointed in February 2023. For the first time in the Court’s 364-year history, a Muslim judge took his seat on the bench—and he was none other than Muhammad Ahsan, son of Rehmat Khan, the baker of Copenhagen.
I met Justice Ahsan at the Supreme Court, thanks to Pakistan’s Ambassador in Copenhagen, ShoaibSarwar. What struck me first was the stark simplicity: no guards at the gate, no entourage, no air of grandeur. Instead, the judge himself appeared to welcome us. Inside, he spoke quietly about the judicial process: the king, parliament and government have no role in appointments; the court itself manages its own selection with independence and rigour.
He explained another striking difference. “Here, judges rarely speak. We listen. In two years, I have asked only two questions in court. Our role is not to dominate proceedings but to weigh the arguments carefully against the law and deliver judgment.”
Listening to him, I could not help but contrast this restraint with the theatricality of our own courts back home—where barbed remarks, political commentary and grandiose pronouncements are all too common. The dignity of silence in Denmark’s highest court seemed, in its own way, more powerful than thunderous words. From a village in Punjab to the Supreme Court of Denmark—this is not only the journey of Justice Muhammad Ahsan, but also the story of perseverance, integrity and quiet triumph.
—Senator based in Islamabad.
