It was an early morning our home phone rang. I was too lazy to move even an inch but since no one was around I had to drag myself to take the call. Hello? Can I speak with Sadiq? In a very frail voice I answered yes, who is this? I am Arun Mehta from Mumbai. Immediately my eyes went wide open and I responded with, One minute uncle! I ran towards my father’s room and told him to pick the receiver as the Former Home Minister, a very close friend of my dad was calling. I was not happy because I had this weird feeling that the call was for me. My hunch was true I was confirmed for an admission into a college in Mumbai and had to leave the next week. Leaving my friends, family and home was too heartbreaking. I was upset and wanted the world to end. Anybody at that age would feel the same way. Sensing something wrong my father decided to accompany me to Mumbai. He must have felt that I was upset or emotionally disturbed. I joined my college still home sick and totally devastated. The weather was as horrible as it could get. I would change my T-shirt every hour. I guess I was looking for an excuse not to be there, I was not ready to live alone without my parents, I never had. One day before my father was about to leave for Kashmir, he took me to a nice Chinese Restaurant at Colaba, over a nice meal of prawns and grilled Salmon, he spoke about his childhood, his struggle, how he would walk all the way from Rainwari to SP college only because he wanted to study but my grandfather wanted him to join the family business. I was amazed with all the stories. Any son or daughter would be excited to see their father sharing stories of his childhood. It was a mix of fun, humour and intellect. A message to me about how cruel the world can get. We chatted for long until suddenly he looked at me, held my hand and told me. “Montu” (my nick name), “everyone has come into this world alone and everyone will go alone. I will die one day and so will everyone, you know. The world moves on and doesn’t stop for anyone. You are here to study, to make a name, to earn a living. Even though it would pain your mother as much as it would to me for sending you away but remember we would only do this for your betterment. When you become a father you will do the same for your children and they for theirs. You will understand this long after I am gone. This world is like Shakespeare puts it “A theater, a stage where everyone is a character, plays his role and leaves! only to be replaced by another one. He kissed me and we walked out of the restaurant. It didn’t help much and I knew, no matter how much drama I may put in he won’t let me come back. Today, when I recollect the events anyone who has lost a father would very well understand what a role model a father is to his sons.
I am the youngest of my brothers and my father was fond of me. He would always say to me, the house looks so empty when he doesn’t hear my vocal chords rumbling. He was there for me, for us and everyone always. I am sure as sons and daughters of fathers and mothers everyone has one or many incidents about their parents, incident that remain with them till their existence. Similarly as a son there are so many events that remind me of him every day, every minute and every second but there is one such incident I may never ever forget and would want to share.
It was a fine morning and we all were sitting in on the breakfast table when suddenly I started screaming. I got this excruciating pain in my abdomen. I was in agony and the pain was unbearable. I felt like someone had poured molten lava into my stomach. Dr. Taseer, my brother sensing something serious decided to immediately take me to the SKIMS. Carrying me on the stretcher they finally found a doctor who leisurely and reluctantly injected almost 3 pain killer injections into me but somehow the pain wouldn’t stop. What started as cramps or spasms resulted into a major worry for me and my family. In the next 24 hours I was on the operation table. It’s an emergency, said Dr. Umar Javaid Shah, looking at my father. I have to operate upon him immediately as his gallbladder has become gangrenous, he might go into septicemia. If that happens he won’t survive. Like a helpless father, visibly shaken & terrified he pleaded the doctor to save me. The post surgery was horrendous; they did an endoscopy many times but failed too, until I literally passed out. Next morning when I woke up I slowly opened my eyes feeling a little wetness on my feet. As I struggled to look down, I was taken aback to see my father tightly holding my feet in his arms and crying like a baby. I couldn’t take that. My father was a strong man, always stood strong like a rock, seen many ups and downs but never gave up. But today the sight of his son, pale, sick and seriously ill broke him. I would tell him to stop crying but he would literally beg me to fight and not give up. His words were stronger than any medicine and even though the doctors had given up, I with the blessing of my father and mother was up and discharged from the hospital in two months.
I must have been a toddler but I remember that once papa tricked me by being motionless and someone told me he is dead and won’t come back ever. I did not stop crying for 2 days even though he made me understand that it was a joke. I may have been tricked then but that incident had such an impact on me that even after decade or so later I would wake up early in the morning, sneak into his room slowly check if he was breathing and even at times gaze at him for a couple of minutes to see whether his belly went up and down. Shukur-Allah, I would tell myself and slowly move out. When my father was admitted into the hospital and put on the ICU monitor that checks the vitals, I would after every beep take a closer look at his belly and close my eyes in contained happiness thanking god that he is ok. The next day while I was looking at him and recalling all the happy moments I spent with him, I would look at his face and as a son something within me would scream in desperation asking my dad to open his eyes and smile at us. Any child would give all his riches and comforts to be besides his father. I knew his death was going to shatter my mother and my brothers. This thought of mine was interrupted by a loud beep as all the doctors came running. The moment I always feared even as a child had come. My father lay there silent and motionless. I got up from the chair and stepped back. A small little gap was visible between the doctors pointing towards his belly. I closed my eyes as tears came rolling down. Our father, our friend and my hero was gone and so had our hope.
May his blessing shower on us always. Please recite Sura’h Fatiha for his soul.
