My Grandmother ~ Obituary

[Shahzad Shameem]

To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. If this definition of Emerson is to be considered a measuring stick, you were a resounding success.

I don't remember when I met you first, most probably the day I was born, yet I do remember when you started having a direct say in my understanding of this world. It was the early 90's, you and Dada Abba, had come to live with us in our home in Karachi. Being your youngest grandchild, I do believe I was lucky in getting some preferential treatment from you, yet how unlucky that I could not spend as much time with you as I would have liked.

First character of yours that I was introduced to was your genuine love for others. This love transcended family, friends, neighbours, and proceeded to include everyone that came into your life, be it through a mutual acquaintance, or a chance encounter. The proof of this was immense gratitude, I felt, in people towards you, who came to visit you at our house. You always received them with kindness and warmth.

You taught me how to read the Holy Qur'an, often going to great lengths to answer trivial questions raised by this inquiring mind. Always careful not to digress from the facts in the great book, by adding your own interpretation; always encouraging more questions.

I learned from you the power of faith, and confidence in Allah; the belief that good does triumph over evil, and that people by nature are good; a belief that I have recently started to incorporate much more forcefully in my own life.

I learned from you the power of humour, and how a single laugh can sometimes be more pleasing to a human heart then a carefully crafted melody.

I learned from you that youth and vigour can be sustained by enjoying life to the fullest. By involving yourself in as many activities as you can, by keeping a healthy social life, and by indulging yourself in food for thought and spirit.

You taught me discipline and the power of tough love, especially when it comes to family priorities and self-respect.

You taught me dedication to ones goal, example of which came before me in 1994, when one day you asked me to read and translate to you a piece of news in our local English newspaper, merrily I agreed and did so, upon completion of which you looked me in the eyes and told me that one day you will be able to read and understand it yourself. Being a boy of mere 12, I brushed the promise aside. We moved away to Lahore in 1995, and little did I know that you fully intended to keep your promise in my absence. We met again in Lahore in 1998, and one warm evening you came up to me and held me by my wrist, and told me to follow you as you had something important to show me. I followed you to the guest room, where on the night stand there was a novel. You sat besides me and started reading from that English novel, and lo and behold, you were passed the first 2 paragraphs by the time I was able to catch my breath. I still think about that day when faced with a seemingly insurmountable task.

And you also taught me the power of a hug. There were two times when you really held me in your arms and I felt perfect solitude. One time was when I saw you for the first time after Amma Jan passed away 1n 1996, as soon as you saw me for the first time you opened you arms and nodded at me to come over and bury myself in your embrace, I did so and rarely do I feel such peace now.

Second time was when I had returned back to Pakistan from Canada on a business trip in 2005. Old age was getting to you I had noticed, and felt you might not remember me, fear of disappointment slowly creeping up my spine whilst you looked at me with stranger's eyes, and then suddenly out of nowhere, it all made sense to you. My name drew from your lips, and I found myself again lost in your arms.

Fortunately, it was the same trip that I was able to enjoy another great pleasure stored for us men. The pleasure of giving ones loved ones a little piece of ones earnings. I remember having that envelope in my hand, and besieging you to take it. You kept asking what was in it, but I knew that you knew the contents of that envelope, since your eyes couldn't fake the immense pride you were feeling, and I had to lower mine, humbled my sheer magnitude of the moment. I think it was that particular evening that I personally feel I transformed from a boy, into a young man.

I remember you being a silent witness, when Dada Abba and I shared a treasured moment upon our return to Karachi from our summer vacations spent in Lahore, the year being 1994. Me in my customary way went up to Dada Abba's bed and exchanged salutations with him. He looked me dead in the eyes, and told me that he missed me very much, and that he had composed a verse for me. I was taken aback, to say the least. He, in the mean time, had ventured ahead to say these two lines that I have never ever forgotten, and have remembered for all these years…

Paani piyo to yaad karo pyaas imam hussain kee
Khana kaho to mehmanan kay saath bhook rafa karo pyare salman kee

Lastly, you taught me the art of carrying yourself… You had mastered body language, even before it was a science…fixed eyes, knowing smile, shoulders back, chin up. Your exterior always displayed courage, confidence, wisdom and authority that did not appear to come from a negative place, but from faith, knowledge, and understanding, understanding that you were the wife of a great man, mother to 4 exceptional children, grandmother to 12 wonderful grandkids, and great grandmother to numerous Great grandchildren.

A great communicator, with a mind beyond her times, wise yet playful, virtuous, patient, caring, and above all strength of character….you were a feminist even before feminism became a movement.

I thank you for all that I am, as I know you have played a major part in my upbringing. I thank you for caring, and for loving. I, along with my brothers, will never forget those many times when you were our babysitter in Karachi, when we watched and discussed various TV plays, news and sporting events shown on TV. Thank you, for the strictness of discipline when we wavered, and the moments of consolation when we were dejected. Thank you for the wise advice, and also for the great laughs. Lastly, and most importantly, thank you for being a part of our family. I am so proud of that name, and so honoured and privileged to be a part of this great family, with its great history, achievements, and traditions.

I hope Allah in all his graciousness finds you a place in jannat ul firdous.

Till we meet again Dadi Amma…Allah Hafiz

Salman Ali