I don’t know if this is something that should be published. But I know that I need to spill this out for once. I know that I need to rest my mind in peace. Not sure how successful this attempt would be, but writing for me has always been a refuge in tough times. Lately I had been a little less thankful and little more ungrateful about things. Unexpected incidents happening in my life had made me questionable of the destiny planned for me. Not that my faith in almighty had faded, cause my daily prayers always comforted me and felt like a connection with my maker. But the world seemed like a field where I had lately been losing a lot. Little did I know what lay ahead would change the meaning of loss for me forever. That day which seemed like a usual Friday in office turned out to be a day I wish had never come until I was alive. My grandfather had been hospitalized a day before due to pain in his back left. Improper diagnosis of a heart failure was what the doctor announced to justify why his soul left his body and they could not save him.
I got this news on a phone call when I was in office. My father called me up and said Abba is no more. In one single moment my entire world came down to pieces. For a moment I felt lifeless, too numb to understand and accept the shock. When I think about the feeling now I shudder. It was like I was drowning in a well and there was darkness everywhere. I collapsed on the stairs to support my body. I did not know for how long I sat on those deserted staircase until someone tapped my shoulder and asked me something. I felt too weak to speak or stand. When I think about that time now, I thank God for all the strength and patience that He gave me at that moment without which I could not have managed to survive the shock. But strange are His ways. I could not see my Abba for the last time. No matter how much I curse Bangalore traffic due to which we missed the flight, I think this was also a part of His plan. That was the last flight to Pune that night and we only managed to reach next day. May be He only wanted me to see the best of Abba!
No matter how hard I try I cannot do justice in describing what Abba meant to me and all of us. Some emotions are too deep to be described. He had been etched in our memories in such a way that even when I went home to meet him by taking off from work, I would hug him and cry. He had colored our childhood with such beautiful times that I still dream of those days we all spent in his loving care. Both my parents being working, it was our grandparents that always took care of us in early years. Growing up in a joint family was the most fortunate thing that happened to us. When we were kids Abba would take us to school on his cycle. In the evening he was our Arabic teacher and we all sat together and recited Quran. Then he would read out incidents from religious books teaching us the path of life. In summer vacations he would wake us up early and took us out for the morning walk to the fort. Every year during Muharram he would take us for the majlis and while coming back got us sweets on the way. He made sure that his grand kids got the best upbringing. We lived in a cramped locality with no playground space. Abba vacated his hall in such a way that we could play cricket there. We filled his wooden cupboard with our sports equipment. Being kids we loved to write on the walls. He got a door painted black and got us a box of chalks. I remember one day he got home with two test tubes along with the holder when we told him we don’t get to do experiments on our own in school. Abba had got the first computer in our house for Api when she joined engineering college. Like a pillar of strength, he encouraged his daughter in laws to study. He facilitated the house hold with every necessity to make sure that the entire family progressed. In the later years every time he saw me his face would gleam with joy and pride. He was so pleased with the slightest of our achievements that he would never fall short of words for praising us. Two years back on his birthday when he turned eighty, I had written him a letter telling him how much he meant to me. He treasured that like the report card of a school boy who had just fared an A+ grade in the exam would treasure. He wept after reading it and called me up saying that he was glad he had succeeded in making us what he wanted us to be. A philanthropist by nature, people from all over the city came to him with their pension issues. He helped innumerable people with their issues by writing appeals, getting them printed, fighting for their rights. People only blessed him in return. It was these blessings that made his life so content. After 25 years of retirement, the postal department called him to felicitate him for the noble work he had been continued doing after getting retired.
It’s still difficult for me to accept he is not between us. I spoke to him the day before he left us. His cheerful voice and constant encouragement is still ringing in my mind. He left with me regrets of not being there for him in his last time. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how fortunate I feel for being born in his family and sharing his name. There was so much in my heart has been left unconveyed. I have lived a lifetime with him and in one single second I was left alone. The hand on my head, the pat on my back, and the love in my heart all was lost. Nothing can fill his void in my life.
Death is like a blow. We never know when it would strike and end it all. We get so busy in our trivial issues that we miss to notice the ocean of blessings that the almighty has bestowed us with. We fail to understand that God blesses us with love in so many forms. We complicate things, misunderstand people, run behind the world, hold grudges and in the end make our own lives miserable. Life is too short to stay away from your loved ones. People who love you are God’s way of telling you how much He cares. My people are my wealth, Abba would say. And no doubt he has taken his wealth along with him. Until I breathe my last I would miss you Abba.
