Dad’s finger was a hinge that carried me to the doors of knowledge. He was a mixture of opposites. His bouts of anger would freeze us in the corners but his binges of laughter would always pull our paralysed moods up. Fathers are not gods. They may not be kings too, but they create kingdoms and nourish them with all they have. The trickling sweat on their bodies feeds us; their shadow is our shelter and their hand a canopy of bliss.
Dad cared for all-his family, his brethren, his relations, his tribe and his Kashmir. To our great joy, he cared for himself, too. He had lost his father very early and had been brought up single-handedly by his bold and brave mother who had been an epitome of sacrifice and care. The family overcame the difficult days, memories remained and Dad retained a reasonable number of them as a teaching-aid for his students and us. Some memories were sweet and some were actually bitter.
Dad remembered all those in life who had helped him or had extended kindness to him and his family. He remembered all those who had given him bitter memories, sometimes acknowledging his weakness as a human. He never reminded all those who had been bad to him at any stage of life, never refused help to them, never pinpointed their shortcomings but always reciprocated hate with kindness. He always volunteered for help, especially for the ones from his own clan and tribe. Dad would never hold back his advice and counsel and always spoke for all-fearlessly and loudly, especially on behalf of his own brethren. The weak, the oppressed and the inaudible found a mouthpiece in him.
Dad hated discord, hated to part ways, hated toxicity in a relationship and always would work hard to mend relationships. Amendments were acceptable but erasures never! Dad would always go beyond the boundaries of expectations. His generosity went beyond giving to forgiving. The candle of knowledge that he held spread the light beyond circles and beams-he ensured the light reached all. Dad held hands, sorted disputes and worked for harmony and peace. Dad was a glue, a gel, a balm, a support and a hope not just for his family but his extended family, his neighbourhood and all his ilk with whom he associated as a tribe.
Many men and women of his generation were like him but not anymore. As I look at our own selves and the relationships we share nowadays, Dad unfortunately is no longer a role model. Expectations and hopes have ruined our relations. We count the assets of our brethren and try our best to overreach their limits.
Each success happening in the family and in the immediate circles is not celebrated, each tragedy of ours is not collectively tackled. We complain too often. Hold grudges too often. Talk ill of each other. Gossip or stay disconnected. Never help each other in need. We build walls of enormous height separating and encapsulating ourselves and our families in toxic capsules. Our focus is limited to just our own family. All actions are done to satisfy our own needs.
Dad loved his Kashmir and expressed love for his homeland too often. He loved its beauty, its traditions, its culture and its language. There was a lot of community care in his routine. Maintaining the cleanliness of his home was his obsession and so was the concern about the road outside the home. I have a vivid recollection of him brooming the lane outside our home and never feeling embarrassed about it. Our Dewan Khan was for all-all marriages of mohalla were celebrated there, all mourning assemblies were held there and it was a venue for all community-related meetings.
Dad would happily clean it himself after a particular function was over. When a new house was created in our front yard Dad ensured that it had a beautiful hall that would satisfy the needs of the entire mohalla. Our garden too was for all, the massive walnut trees planted by his mother bore special walnuts and they would be shared with all relations, friends and neighbours. Special pomegranates from our home were for everybody.
I remember taking a full bag to school every year for my friends, later to college, and lately for my colleagues at workplace. With changing times Dad understood that there were better fruits available in the market but insisted that we share them with the ones we love because each tree that bore the fruit was nourished with love…And love blossoms when shared!
While each one of us is enjoying the company of our mobiles and screens which blast us with new messages, new calls, new videos and new movies our collective conversations within and outside the family have vanished quickly. Dad had a high-pitched voice he would hum and sing Naats, poetry and recite holy Quran-with passion and love. Reciting Aurad e Fathiyyah in mornings or evenings was a routine and we all owe it to him for having memorised it. Nowadays we love the silent homes and neighbourhoods amidst the busy virtual world that has captured us.
Dad cared for Kashmir and wished for peace. He always longed for its better days. He would inculcate a sense of love and care in our hearts for our homeland. He discouraged us from leaving Kashmir. I remember his advice after I completed medicine-‘serve your people’ he advised and I luckily followed it without regrets.
Each moment I remember Dad for the unique qualities he possessed, I make it a point to highlight some of his qualities on his death anniversary on 13th September through this medium; so that if some of the readers have parents or elders who possess these qualities they appreciate them in their lifetime and try to inculcate some of these qualities in their lives for the betterment of their kith, kin, clan and Kashmir.
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