At 18, Shazad was the apple of his parents' eye and an inspiration to his peers in Kwai Chung's close-knit Islamic community, of which his uncles, aunts and cousins make up a considerable number. Kwai Chung's is one of the three largest Pakistani communities in Hong Kong. Shazad was the only ethnic minority management committee member of the Shek Lei Public Housing Estate.

Delia Memorial School principal Lo Ka-chi remembers him as "bright and hardworking, especially in learning Chinese". He loved sport and had demonstrated himself to be a successful leader in the football team. But Shazad was more than just an outstanding student; he had a special quality that was obvious to all who met him. Not only was he six-foot-three, fit and handsome, he also radiated a charisma that brought people together, whether among school friends or his extended family, or when volunteering for non-government organisations. He greatly contributed to promoting a harmonious learning environment in school, his former principal recalls.

One of seven siblings, Shazad was the centre of his father's universe, the reason the older man toiled long hours every day in his logistics and transport business. Muhammad Akthar, 40, called that business Shazad Transport, after his first-born son. Akthar dreamt of the day when he could take a back seat and allow Shazad to share the responsibilities of the head of the family.

On November 10, Shazad was taking part in a camping weekend on Lantau Island, run by Kwai Chung's HKSKH Lady MacLehose Centre. It was just two days after the full force of Typhoon Haiyan had battered the Philippines but, although local seas were rough, there was no storm warning in place in Hong Kong.

Such camping trips are designed to give city teenagers a taste of the outdoors, explains centre director Helina Yuk Fung Yin-king. The 14 teenagers, aged 14 to 18, were supervised by three adult leaders as they pitched tents overnight near Mui Wo. After sleeping for just five hours, the group scaled a mountain at dawn to catch the sunrise. Following breakfast they trudged the seven kilometres along South Lantau Road to Lower Cheung Sha Beach, where, from 11am, they were due to rest and play beach games, according to their itinerary. Lunch at noon was to be followed by "Beach having fun" at 1pm.

But things took a different turn. As is often the case, accounts of dramatic accidents vary - and so they do in this instance. Understandably, emotions still run high among Shazad's family, some of whom were among the camping group. So, the Leisure and Cultural Services Department (LCSD) was asked by to give an objective, factual account of what transpired.

The LCSD explains that during the winter season - between November 1 and March 31 - lifesaving services are suspended on Hong Kong's 29 gazetted beaches. Lower Cheung Sha is one such beach, popular in summer with swimmers and families for its fine, level sand and nearby restaurants.

The closed swimming season is widely publicised, with notices proclaiming, "The lifeguard services at this beach have been suspended. For your safety, please do not enter the water."

Although no lifeguards are on official lifesaving duty during the off season, one or two are still stationed in the first-aid posts at the beaches, to provide assistance if needed, LCSD explains. On November 10, two members of staff were on duty at Lower Cheung Sha Beach. At around noon, they noticed that 14 people, accompanied by a leader, were engaged in a group activity on the beach.

"In view of rough sea condition at the time, our staff [gave] verbal advice to the group to keep away from the water and not go swimming," says an LCSD spokesman. During this period, according to Yuk, in spite of LCSD signs saying "no play ball games" the youths played ball in a circle on the shoreline.

The circle widened as the boys threw the ball to one another, until some of them were standing waist-deep in the water.

Then disaster struck.

"At around 12.45pm," the LCSD spokesman continues, "our staff spotted that some members of the group were suddenly washed away by the vigorous waves. Although lifeguard services had been suspended, our staff, together with an off-duty lifeguard, ran into the rough sea immediately and rendered assistance to rescue them promptly.

"Three people were rescued by our lifeguards in several minutes."

Police and fire-service officers arrived at 12.55pm and took over.

Three teenagers aged 14 to 15 were saved but Shazad, who could not swim, disappeared, his cries of help as he was being swept away ringing in the ears of a younger brother, Sharaz.

"It will always haunt me that I could not do anything to help him," says the 16-year-old.

A search began, with more than 500 members of the Pakistani community flocking to the beach to pray and lend support. Relatives and friends were so desperate to recover Shazad's body that they slaughtered a goat on the beach as an offering. Islamic leaders emphasise that this is not a religious tradition; it was done in the superstitious belief that this might help the young man's body be recovered.

Police said that in this case there would be no prosecution for animal cruelty, as some animal-rights groups, including Protection of Animals Lantau South (Pals), had called for.

"Hong Kong is a society that embraces and respects diversity. Different cultural and religious practices are allowed as long as they are not against the law," Samson Cho Ming-lung, then Lantau police district commander, told Pals.

Cho, who has since moved to a different position within the force, confirms to that he has no intention of further investigating the matter, which "arose from a tragic incident in which a family lost their beloved son, and I am not in a position to comment on the morality of individual cultural or religious practices".

Yuk and colleague Jonathan Chan Ching-wa, senior service co-ordinator of the NGO's integrated community and family service, say three of the Lady MacLehose Centre staff stayed overnight to urge the various government departments to continue searching past the normal 24 hours.

"Although it was dark and dangerous, the Pakistani community insisted on continuing the search, because the family was so anxious to know what happened and to find the body," says Yuk.

Police agreed and Shazad's body was found the following day, at 4pm.

For everyone concerned it was clearly, and for many continues to be, a traumatic experience.

"The scar will never go away, but we want to help," says Chan. "With counselling or whatever is needed following this tragic accident."

After formalities, a funeral attended by 3,000 friends and relatives was held and Shazad's body flown to Pakistan for burial. His death leaves not just a grieving family but a community struggling with a deep sense of loss.

The chief iman of the Minhaj-ul-Quran Islamic Centre Kwai Chung, Muhammad Naseem Khan, says Shazad "was passionately, sincerely devoted and dedicated to volunteer work. He was a role model for youth." His strength lay in his organisational skills, gathering and training his young relatives and friends "in pursuit of healthy activities and to fulfil their role to provide uplifting services to the community", he says.

Shazad's father shoulders a huge burden of grief. He arrived in Hong Kong in 1993, joining his father.

"Life is better here," Akthar explains. "Better wages and employment opportunities than in Pakistan."

Shazad first veered towards a career in engineering, then banking - his family's choice - before following his own star, which was to try to join the police. The police confirm that he had not yet been formally recruited but was on the Junior Police Call-run Gemstone project, a course to upgrade non-Chinese applicants' written Chinese skills in preparation for the force's admission exam.

His father says his police ambitions were driven by the urge to help his community to integrate in Hong Kong. His ambition was to have "a very good level of education and serve in an influential way".

He wasn't involved in any "unhealthy activities like some youngsters, he was very positive thinking, he was a very decent guy", adds his father. "I loved just to eat with him and enjoyed talking to him. We had a great understanding with each other. He did not need to be given orders; he would obey anyway, just from his heart. He had an organised mind, with everything ready for school every day. He needed no pushing." He recalls Shazad helping him with office paperwork before studying until 3am.

Uppermost in his father's mind is his eldest son's wedding, which should have taken place last month, in Pakistan. Five years ago, the family chose a wife, a daughter of Akthar's elder brother, and Shazad became engaged. The special clothes for the bride and groom had been acquired, the exquisite gold jewellery had been readied, everything was fixed. A flat in Kwai Chung had even been bought and put in Shazad's name, to be a home for him and his bride in Hong Kong.

"In that perspective it is very tragic," continues his father. "All our dreams and ambitions dispersed. Everything bright that we had in our minds now is in complete darkness. I have six other children but the quality he possessed, I cannot see in the other children."

Cousin Adnan, 14, misses Shazad acutely, too. He remembers him being always helpful with school work and religious duties. Another cousin, Kabeer, 16, saw him as a "role model for us and our good friend, always helping his mother when she was carrying things. He helped actively, not only when people asked him, it came from his heart."

The circle of faces of those speaking to me in the Minhaj-ul-Quran Islamic Centre Kwai Chung bears testament to someone who was not just a cousin, but a true friend to all of them.

"He always advised us to study hard and get good marks to secure a better executive position so that the stigma that has been put on us can be changed," says one relative. "He wanted to empower the young people in our society. He loved to join in religious activities and spiritual activities and motivate the others to join in productive and healthy activities."

Shazad convinced his cousins to learn Cantonese so they could join in mainstream local life, they add.

"He told us to, 'learn this language if you want to have a better role in this community'," says Sharaz. His ambition is to continue on to higher education and assume the mantle of his dead brother by joining the police force, "and to fulfil the dreams of the family that my brother could not".

"He was my mentor, not only did he guide me at school, but also in every step of my life. I miss this very much."

"After this I am broken," says Akthar. "When he was alive I was powerful. I had dreams and ambitions related to him. After his death all I can see is emptiness, nothing. No more passion in the business, nothing. Darkness."

The bag of wedding clothes that Akthar and his wife, Maryam Bi, 42, cannot bear to throw away are a constant reminder. "Whenever I look at those wedding clothes or his picture I cannot control my emotions."

"Even if there are seven children, mostly only one can bring a name to the family," he says, explaining his inability to find solace in his other two sons or four daughters. "I thought Shazad could be the one to bring a change in the course of life. He was the pillar in our family structure and now the pillar has collapsed. I can see no hope in life."

Perhaps if there is any glimmer of hope in this story, it is best expressed by Shazad's best friend, Jabran, 18, a Form Five student at Sir Ellis Kadoorie School. He is grateful for the example his friend left behind.

"He taught us all how to manage things in the Islamic Centre and be good members of society and the Islamic community. He was my best cousin and my best friend. We will never forget him."

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