Where is Daddy? I whispered to my mother as I noticed his empty seat in the family seats row inside the half lit cinema hall. “He has gone to pray Maghrib.” My mother did not like to be disturbed as the movie was going through a sensitive turn. I started munching on my crisps, feeling a bit guilty sitting there like a potatoes whilst daddy was out praying. Why couldn’t I sacrifice a part of the movie. My innocent mind tried to think which never liked any movie or other entertainment to end.” Why nice things have to end? I wish fun could stay for ever-for Eternity. How can that happen??”

Soon I stopped asking my mother where he was as I realized no matter where we went for a family entertainment, be it visiting a family, shopping, watching a movie, picnic, even on a beach-prayer time came and Daddy would leave us as if he never knew us. We six brothers & sisters soon started c copying him and would try and line up next to him. Similarly he rooted the habit of fasting within us.

My father came from a tribal area of Baluchistan but soon left his village for secondary education and then College and further degree in Engineering. Being the youngest son of his parents, his father sent him out of the village soon, threatened by the inter-tribal wars and after the heavy loss of few of his other sons in these. Also noticing that his youngest son was different, least interested in the tribal traditions, chief hood, (my grandfather, being the eldest brother, was the Chief of the tribe) land and crops and specifically the inter-tribal battles. Was rather interested in completing his homework, usually away from the hustle ‘n bustle of the ’qilee’ they called the widespread palace like home-as I remember from the single visit I made to our father’s village as a child, a widespread middle courtyard and multiple rooms all around it one of them a large kitchen- various pedigrees of hens and chickens picking in the courtyard.

Now when I think about my father’s life, I see him no different from sift e Ibrahimi and the special colour of Tawheed in it, who made his own way in life, following his innate guidance in most matters. He was a courageous man who stood against various hard lined traditions he came across and which he thought were based on ignorance. One of them being keeping daughters uneducated and marrying them within families for the sake of land and continuing within the generations.

As he left the College and went to the other cities for further training and jobs, he met my mother’s 6 brothers in a business category, who had migrated to Pakistan from the suburbs of Mumbai, Belgam-their father being one of the business personnel's- famous as Belgamwala. The essence of love for Pakistan, Quaid e Azam and other leaders for independence was passed on to us from our mother who had the memories from her childhood, she spoke the same language as was spoken in the Jinnah family and told us how she remembered the Quaid stroking her head as a child when he visited their school. Again, I feel that because my father did not have a polluted mind with prejudice of sectarianism, he had no reluctance to marry my mother who surprisingly came from a completely second half of the Muslim ummah, i.e. Shiaism. My mother’s brothers were impressed by this Pathan/Baloch man’s hard work and honesty and felt secured to give my mother’s hand into his (she had lost her parents at a very young age just as my father did) Being only about 16 years old at the time, my father being 21/22, she was mostly influenced by him in their married life as they returned straightaway to Baluchistan for settling down. However I got a great opportunity to attend and learn from many Shiate ‘majalis’ and events not only within my mother’s family and friends as we used to visit Karachi regularly in Winters, but also within Quetta where there was a large population of Persian Shiates, lots from Iran. My father was a very broad minded person and never objected on such, although he quite vigilantly arranged a Sunni Maulvi sb to come home and teach us Qur’an studies and all other basics of religion accordingly.

Besides, I cannot remember a single morning without his beautiful recitation of Qur’an, early in the morning after Fajar which would wake us all up. Later in life he got more and more attached to the Masjid, specially after losing my eldest brother and sister in accidents. He stood hard against the calamities in life and continued to struggle in order to full fill his responsibilities to the rest of his family. When he used to visit my present residence he would say” Gulabi. I liked your house in Birmingham where you had two Masjids on the same road. Here the Masjid is a bit far away and adapting to the British laws of driving is a bit difficult for me at this age.” He would smile. Still he would scratch the ice off the car early morning as per his early rising routine from young age, and drop my children off to school, dropping me to the hospital –again by my side during those tougher times in the cold and icy Northern England when I was waiting for my husband to join me, whilst working in some other area.

My parents left no stone unturned in order to educate their 6 children in the best available institutes in the city, rather cities, as being a Telephonic and Telegraphic Engineer, Daddy was mostly on the move. We happened to study in various schools of the country, however settling down after year 5 of mine at Quetta Convent from where I started at Nursery at age 5.

During school and college days, despite his busy life, I remember my father by my side during all stress full times like exams, sports tournaments, other extracurricular competitions. He was like a strong and courageous figure, stood next to me and from whom I derived all my courage and force. ‘Can’t’ was not in his dictionary, neither he taught us that. Ongoing effort was apparently insurged in his traditional tribal blood which was transferred to us. Success was doomed to be and Failure was never an end to a struggle.

When I was planning to apply for Medical School within Quetta, my father gave no second thought and brought me the forms for Fatima Jinnah Medical College Lahore saying my capability was suitable for the latter. I couldn't believe he would send me 600 miles away, being his ‘laadli baytee’ as he would say. “For the best you have to my darling. Nothing comes without sacrifice Look at me I left everything behind to find the road to success. This road is waiting for you.” I still remember the winding roads from Quetta to Sibi when Daddy drove me for my interview and throughout the journey I had high thoughts in my mind, as my sight tried to reach the cliffs of the high blue and brown rough and tough mountains surrounding the shiny thin roads that we tracked, embraced by these mountains. (That night I kept dreaming about those mountains breaking into pieces and flying away with graves opening up and people running about in madness.) Perhaps related to what I knew about the Day of Judgement. I remember the stormy opposition from our village when they heard my father’s decision of sending me away. Although I have never seen or heard any barbarian attitude or things like ‘shariah punishments’ to women in our village, as nowadays I see being shown in the media from some northern parts of Pakistan and which has become one main reason of dispute between the state, outside powers & these tribal areas. However my female cousins living in the village (we never did because of my father’s job in the city) these girls never got much far into schools, although I have quite a few male cousins who studied and worked as doctors and engineers. At this stage, my father stood between them and me like an unbreakable wall of copper & lead-“If I could send my son overseas to be trained in Royal Navy, why do you think I would not let my daughter achieve what she can because of her merit. Just because she is a female gender? Is not in my code of conduct.”

However I can never forget the single worrying wrinkle on his bright and still young and handsome forehead as he was seeing me off to Lahore at the airport. “Bayta! If anyone sent you a message in the hostel that your father was calling you outside or something like that, do not come out unless I personally walked in. “ I knew what was in his mind. He was worried about the opposition he had from the village and the list of my cousins whose names were suggested to get married to me instead of sending me across for the higher studies. “Believe us Adda (pushto word for uncle) Gulabi (my nick name) will be a part of chains of girls who go astray once they leave homes.”

And to everyone’s surprise, Gulabi was wrapped up in a long hijab as she returned for a holiday after about a year. Shocking for everyone because studying in Convent and my mother coming from a modern Indian family, hijab was not something which prevailed in our house, although as my mother tells me and I remember from my childhood I asked her to buy me a wide ‘dupatta’ and no more half sleeves shirts as I stepped into my puberty. Later at FJ, I had found a group of Jamiat girls in the hostel and started attending Dars e Qur’an with them-very much influenced and followed the life style I found amongst the group and completed the Jamiat syllabus along with my medical studies.

I remember my father being a bit worried about this when my mother mentioned to him the obvious change in my life style ”Aray bhai Maulana Maudoodi nay brain wash kar diya hay. “ I remember her sentence, typically heard by many youngsters those days. But my father kept silent except one sentence which is as fresh in my mind as if heard today: “Its okay as long as she is progressing in the way of Deen.”

When it came to me and my sisters’ marriages, my father kept his personal tradition of ‘Merit’ above all and threw all the prejudiced traditions of land and blood behind his back.

And finally, the burial after death-a great point of dispute in traditional lives- burial of villagers, specially sarda’rs/Chiefs and their sons cannot be away from the tribe. But my father had no high or hard rules about this either. My sister who lives close to Al-Mawrid Lahore and runs a branch of Alhuda, where he spent the last months of his life because of the treatment at the local hospitals, tells me that when this topic was brought in by our cousins one of them being the tribal Chief presently, who came to visit my father during his illness; my father did mention to her to arrange his burial near his mother’s grave in the village. But when she requested him to allow us to keep him close to us, he just smiled graciously saying” Doesn’t matter. I like the Garden Town Graveyard as well. It’s nice & green!”

And perhaps this is the reason that amongst the attendees at his funeral was a team of the present day scholars who are working hard to bring the True facts about Islam, the Abrahimic religion from the original sources and he is buried between Almawrid and AlHuda, the two organizations his daughters are involved with to spread the message of Truth.( However as my mother told me that he did mention that instead of attaching any name to ourselves, we must just work purely for the pleasure of God. I think this again speaks out how careful he was not to amalgamate anything which could cause confusion. We did try and explain to him that working with an organization is just to support eachother in a team set-up but his advice keeps reminding me of the sensitivity of the issues and demands an ongoing vigilance)

I must not ignore the mention of my great mother in this narration who has been as strong and stable as a rock and as delicate and lovely as a rose petal in order to support my father throughout this journey and at every step as the foundation brick of the family; she sacrificed her time, belongings, rest and everything she could-in order to keep the family going in love and harmony. Rather there have been times where I felt my father was about to loose the edge of it, and mother brought him back to the track; the wel-known fact that behind every successful man stands a strong and loving woman. May God bless her and everyone’s mothers with the best of rewards in both the worlds. Amen.

May Allah bless my father’s soul and help us find and follow the right path-the Abrahimic way of Tawheed in our lives. Amen

Comments:


have gone thr. the article about your father. This not only reflects the love that you have for your father but it also reflects a very good picture of his sound and +ve personality. Nowadays such personalities are few in no. and purpose of my life is to produce more of them.
 
Today I read this essay of yours and same day I had replied a letter of one of our friends in UK; mukarram hasan ansari, you might know him. I am forwarding you this conversation. It may help you a little.

regards

rehan



Walaykum assalaam sister

It is an excellent biography which is saturated with passion and love of a daughter. It is worth forwarding to Readers digest or an educational magazine as it is an eye opener for many.

It must be a matter of great pride to be daughter of such a noble person. A person you not only love but admire, respect and emmulate.

many thanks for sharing

kind regards

Waseem

I can fully understand sister, parents are the most precious part of anyone's life and its a blessing for parents and children that they have strong bonds. I am sure your dad's good deeds will always be remembered and transferred through you and your other brothers/sisters to many others...of course we know about him now and know what influence he had on you...so he will be in our prayers. May Allah bless his soul, I am sure he is very content in his 2nd life.

Regards


Nazir Ahmed

Masha'Allah. May God forgive him and elevate his status. I wrote not something on the lines you have written. It was a little different. Here it is.

KZ

salam sister,

Many thanks for sharing such valuable moments of your life. It is a beautifully written account of your father (May Allah bless him with eternal place in heavens). Will discuss more on meeting.

MZ

salam

it was very touching, and also beneficial for me to read this as a parent. This shows the great effects a good style of parenthood on children.

May Allah bless his soul and may Allah helps us to be good examples for our kids.

thanks for sharing it with us

hope to see you soon inshaallaah

Azin


have gone thr. the article about your father. This not only reflects the love that you have for your father but it also reflects a very good picture of his sound and +ve personality. Nowadays such personalities are few in no. and purpose of my life is to produce more of them.

Today I read this essay of yours and same day I had replied a letter of one of our friends in UK; mukarram hasan ansari, you might know him. I am forwarding you this conversation. It may help you a little.

regards

rehan

Dear Sister Henna,

Assalam o Alaikum

Although you introduced your dad briefly on my last visit but its very nice to know more about him, Allah bless his soul. There are some people who influence others life, it could be an invention or establishing an institution BUT the most important influence someone can have upon someone is his/her own family. That influence is carried from generation to generation and I think its a big thing in life.

Salam,

Sorry for delay in replying this. I liked it a lot and it was very inspirational.
I appraise both you and your father on the basis of this reading. Your father for what he is (I prefer to use present tense even for those who are not with us) and yourself for appreciating his merits and communicating them to others. I think you just managed to double the Baqyat Salihat of your father.

AR
Dear Henna

A loving daughter's true feelings after her father's sad demise, and returning towards life's greatest reality, death! father, who has left you being sad but at the same time feeling very proud of him. May God bless his soul ( ameen ) and keep your courage high.

He certainly lead a very indiscriminatory life, kept himself focused on life's real achievements ( not money, fame or sticking up for inappropriate egoism ) and embedded deep rooted religious thinking for his children.

Deeply touched by it, certainly gave me food for thought. We all have to face death at some point, but are we doing enough to be remembered with such good words, by our friends and family? Are we ready to return and face the facts? How much preparations have we made for this?? The thought about this frightens me.

Shahida


I lost my dearest father about 5 months back in the beginning of Dec 08, but even today I can feel his warmth of love and care, and the feeling of security I had when he was around. He was indeed an extra-ordinary father, although for every child there father is~ but comparing him to many of my friends' dads, i do feel I was lucky to have him and he was a gift from God to bring me to the stage of life I am at now. I take this opportunity to ask every reader to pray for my beloved dad and may God bless your parents too. amen.
Me