By: Bashir Ahmad Dar
As I read the article entitled “Plight Of Our Aged Fathers” written by Mushtaq Ahmad Hurra- a noted writer and columnist from Bandipura district of Jammu and Kashmir, I felt a sea of emotions welled up in me. My eyes went moist and heart wept. My breath was getting heavy with every passing line and I could feel a strange unseen weight on my chest. I felt as if all the seven heavens and earths were spinning on my chest and grinding my being to dust. My hands were shaking, fingers trembling, lips fluttering, teeth cluttering and every single hair blade stood on its end and a quiver shredder shook earth beneath my feet.
I was grief stricken.
For a moment I questioned whether this was the vast world of Allah! I couldn’t disassociate my attention from the write-up even for a plausible brief.
Do I fall in the category of renegade progeny or scrupulous one- I questioned myself! I was weighing myself in an imaginary balance having arms of good son and bad son and trying to figure out which arm outweighs the other in my favour. It was like I am standing in the arena of doomsday, Maidan-e-Mahashr and asked to categorise myself as good or bad son.
As I try to remember my conduct with my father I couldn’t help but recollect the uncountable sacrifices my beloved daddy did for me. Be it killing his own dreams to fulfil mine or suffocating his sleep to ensure I slumber well. Be it giving up his freedom and spontaneity for my sake or his priorities to see me grow and develop most comfortably. Be it limiting his spending to ensure my financial stability or wearing ragged clothes but buying me lavish ones. Be it cutting his own expenses to buy me expensive toys or limiting his contacts to spent time with me. Be it diluting his aspirations to full fill mine or lowering his goals to elevate mine. I would never be able to recollect all the hardships he has undergone just to see me happy and grow.
While I was weighing myself in the imaginary balance I remebered an episode from my childhood which for which I would seek apology from my father if he were alive today. I had never lied to my father, whatever the matter, but that day I did.
It was a balmy afternoon of mid-summer and I was lonely playing in the courtyard of our house. My elder brother was in school and other brothers and sisters were playing Lalen Gaerd, a modified version of Rail Gadi game, in the backyard. I was scribing shapes of different animals on dust and thus had soiled my hands. Dady came home early from school. He had a polythene bag hung in his left hand stuffed by something yellow. As usual I went close to him and greeted him. He asked me to fetch my other siblings too but I lied that they had gone to Mama’s to seek his wellbeing. The fact was I wanted dady all for myself. My lie was the outcome of what we now know as sibling rivalry.
Anyways, I followed Dady to his room. Dady seated himself comfortably and opened the polythene bag. It was filled with ripe yellow mangoes. Mangoes had been my favourite since childhood and dady knew it. He took me in his arms and propped me up in his lap. I felt as if I were sitting on a pair of tree trunks. Dady was muscular. Feeling him so close gave me a princely feeling. Dady gave me a pair of mangoes and counted the rest. Without taking a bite for himself He zipped up the bag and began to tell me the story of a greedy man and his hen which was laying golden eggs. Later that evening he distributed the rest of mangoes among my siblings. Did he himself eat any mango is still a mystery to me. Daddy was truly loving.
I strongly reckon the fact that father is truly is biggest pillar of strength for a man. His feeble pat is the biggest push and his punny pull is the strongest yank to success. There is no nectar as holy as his sweat and no aroma as pleasant as the smell of his soiled clothes. His strength beats the strength of mountains and puts to shame the calmness of quiet sea. His presence in family is warm like summer sun and pleasant like morning breeze. For his progeny his heart is rich like nature and bosom comforting like night. His intentions are pure like morning dew and generous like mother earth.
A father is like a benign roof. Just as a roof protects the occupants of the house from the hot and cold weather, so the father protects us from the cruelties of the world. He acts as a protection wall against the thicks and thins of the world and ensure that we remain untouched and unharmed. In a family father is the nucleus around which revolve the functions and well-being of the family. Only he can play the role he does.
Believe me a father is nothing but compassion, love and sacrifice. His anger is temporary, even if he gets angry, he waits inside to be persuaded, such simple creation he is. Father is father, no matter how hard and stern he may seem. At heart he is too gentle, generous, adorable, selfless and sacrificing. He loved his kids more than you love your breath. He is like a thick shady tree which itself faces the vicious slaps of the sun, storm and rain but protects those who live in its shade.
Ask someone like me who has lost his father and he will tell you how it feels to be without father. To him, world is cruel and crazy, brutal and bitter and savage and barbaric. To him the world seems intimidating as hell, a place worth nothing. For a father less kid this world is concoction of bitterness and indignation. A paternal orphan will tell you that the mere presence of father in house is the biggest blessing of Lord. Even the feeble voice of father gives the feeling of a lion’s roar. So, respect this voice before death silences it completly. Value your parents while they are with you. Once they are gone the repent is of no use and avail. Even the enemies give shoulder once a man is in coffin and being carried to tomb. But does that shoulder serve any purpose? No.
Our religion has aptly recognised the place of a father in ones life and has made it obligatory for us to respect our fathers. But sadly we never understand the value of their presence untill we lose them.
The moment I reached bottom but one para of the Mushtaq’s piece I literally landed in the court of prophet Muhammad (SAW) answering the same questions as the young sahabi was facing. Mushtaq sahib talks about the incident of a young sahabi who came to prophet Muhammad SAW with a complaint about his father . He complained “O Messenger of Allah, I have wealth and my father wants to take all my wealth” to which Mohisin Insanyat , Insaan-e-Kamil, SallAllahu Alayhi Wa Sallam, said: “You and your wealth belong to your father.” When our prophet has talked high of father – child bond how can we ever belittle, neglect and forget the importance of such a bond. It sent shivers down my spine when I imagined being questioned by best of the mankind, the Khatemon Nabeeyen, the beloved prophet (PBUH). I am afraid if on the day of judgement I would be called to account with regard to my father in presence of our prophet and if there occured any shortcoming how shall I face our prophet. This thought is killing me.
Truly Allah’s pleasure is in the pleasure of the father, and Allah’s displeasure is in the displeasure of the father. So ,if anyone wants to gain the pleasure of Allah, the Benevolent and Merciful, he/she should serve his/her father besides fulfilling other religious duties. We should always be kind and good to their parents to avoid Allah’s wrath.
The writer is a teacher and can be reached at darbashir1234321@gmail.com
