As I write the words while moving my fingers on my laptop; I didn’t have speck of idea that I will have to write the very next article as a tribute to the one who was sitting next me when I was writing the previous article after discussing with you ( An Open Letter to Lieutenant Governor J&K). I didn’t know then that you will leave me like this; knowing, we have come here to leave but leaving the way you left is thoroughly improper. I wonder, what shall I write? Shall I write; “He flee from me, who all the time did me seek, who was tame, gentle and meek.”
Time unmemorable have I overheard that there is no place sweeter than home; fact it was till 15th of August, 2022, as the four ridges, weather that be of mud or timber where your family resides acts as a nirvana. They say, “Only parents endure tantrums and others kick the ass.” They are damn right which I came face to face some odd weeks back since my beautiful house doesn’t entice me any longer , the flowers in the lawn which used to bring smile on my face seems inoperable now, environs have turned into far-reaching melancholia, early morning breeze diffuses the message of irretrievable loss. There is no solace in offering Salah or reciting Quran, however, I articulate the words and comprehend their meaning yet in between I miss you Dad, I miss the time we have spent together, I miss your colloquies, I enter your room quite often now and leaf through the books of yours that you have marked with greenish highlighter, some neatly handwritten Urdu notes, indeed with eye-catching handwriting. Dad do you know that never ceased telling your son, “Your handwriting is too poor.” But, you know Dad; your son misses now that too.
On the 15th of August my Dad left for heavenly abode, however, he was completely alright, didn’t complain anything, although, that day he took no interest in fixing some home pipes which was unusual. That day he woke up and offered Salah and started reading Quran and its commentary , a mundane task, once he was up with books, he turned on the T.V set to watch some news given he didn’t get a newspaper to read that day. Whole day he remained inside and helped my little cousin to memorize table, took dinner and set his bed himself to sleep. Afore, he came into the kitchen to talk to me and asked me, “why did you dine so late?” And soon he left, I went upstairs to sleep and within 5 minutes my mother knocks at my door saying something happened to Dad, I rushed downstairs and checked the pulse but couldn’t feel it, tried C.P.R that too didn’t work then I took him to the nearby hospital but he had passed away. .
I didn’t know what should I do; who should call, I was numb because just half an hour before my Dad was normal talking to me; had his dinner and set his bed himself now his carcass was lying on the bed, I am yet to overcome the feeling that he has gone that too forever and won’t be accessible now, I don’t know why my heart and mind walk away from this bitter reality. Might be because; I am important to face the truth that his compassionate and tender shadow has weaned off from me, I would not take an iota of strain about my household management as I would know my father is there to shoulder all the responsibility—Alas! I have lost him; I lost the punching bag, lost the person who used to love me unconditionally, who would demand nothing than my stability and happiness but, the unfortunate part is, we come to realization after that person passes away. Same is happening with me — I would take my Dad for granted, his love over familiar and his doings as an obligation but I should have appreciated, I should have been grateful and I must have paid by thanksgiving but I didn’t do so. However, I never refused his commandments yet I feel I didn’t do what I should have done.
After the mourning days, I went seller to seller to confirm whether my Dad had taken anything on credit or is there any outstanding, but every seller told me, “Your Dad was a man of character he would never take goods or other things for that matter on credit, we pray, may you wear his sleeves.”
On the 2nd day of the passing of my Dad , my brother-in-law who is a Hafiz and an Islamic jurist observes him in a dream in which my father asks him about the shroud- seller (KAFAN¬-WALA) and others who had stitched Kafan ; whether they were remunerated.
The purpose behind writing this is to convey a message to those whose parents are alive and to tell them you have the precious treasure with you— The treasure that is unconditional and selfless, the treasure that nothing in the world can replace.
It’s pertinent to mention that Dad’s demise taught me one bitter lesson which I can never forget, there is no real friend in the world but the real interests; as for those friends for whom I have remained at disposal didn’t turn up to offer Nimaz- i- Jinazah of my Dad instead came as a formality after Asar- prayers that too only once or so while uttering “ Do you need some money Jameel?”
Anyway, as they say, “Tough Times Reveal What Really Matters, Your True Friends, Resilience and Resourcefulness and How Amazingly Strong You Are.” Although, I observed I was feeble to bear my father’s demise and I pray Allah to grant long life to the fathers of those who are alive as father’s passing makes one realise that he takes shelter in that house whose crown has been snatched . I implore to one and all, please pray for my Dad’s soul.
(Author is RK Columnist. He can be reached on: [email protected])
