It was a long day yesterday. My mother woke me up a bit earlier with the words, "Nani ka inteqal ho gaya (Grandma passed away)".
Her demise was anything but sudden. She was bed ridden since last year and a half. Before that she had slowly but steadily lost her memory. In the twilight of life, her words stopped making sense and she had to be fed through a tube.
This isn't exactly the image of the woman under whose shade I grew up. I have always known her to be smart, feisty and above all a thoroughly caring lady.
I had spent better part of my childhood at her place. And, being the first of her grandchildren, I was apple of the eye of entire maternal household. There was much to be loved about 'Nani ka ghar': caring folks, a sense of freedom, calm surroundings, food and even TV (We didn't have cable connection at our place) !
As the sunlight turned softer after an unforgivingly hot day, I stood in the family graveyard opposite her home, thinking how quickly I lost it all. How fast the wheel of time has turned. It almost feels like yesterday, that I was haggling with her to watch my favourite show on TV or she was combing my hairs.
"Man is steadily approaching his God" (Qur'an)
I now feel sad, for not returning her love. For neglecting her when she became frail. I hadn't seen her for almost a month, cocooned as I was in my 'busy life. I kept running under the Sun, only to get tired and heavy at the end of the day.
And it wasn't just me. Everyone who gathered yesterday seemed focussed on their individual worldly lives, perhaps forgetting that one day we all have to lie on a bed of soil and stand before our lord. There will hardly be any shadow available on that day.
"Hafeez ho gaya aakhir ajal se hum-aagosh / Tamam shab ka sataya hua sahar se ja mila (Hafeez eventually embraced the death / Pestered for the entire night, he has now united with dawn)"
Her demise was anything but sudden. She was bed ridden since last year and a half. Before that she had slowly but steadily lost her memory. In the twilight of life, her words stopped making sense and she had to be fed through a tube.
This isn't exactly the image of the woman under whose shade I grew up. I have always known her to be smart, feisty and above all a thoroughly caring lady.
I had spent better part of my childhood at her place. And, being the first of her grandchildren, I was apple of the eye of entire maternal household. There was much to be loved about 'Nani ka ghar': caring folks, a sense of freedom, calm surroundings, food and even TV (We didn't have cable connection at our place) !
As the sunlight turned softer after an unforgivingly hot day, I stood in the family graveyard opposite her home, thinking how quickly I lost it all. How fast the wheel of time has turned. It almost feels like yesterday, that I was haggling with her to watch my favourite show on TV or she was combing my hairs.
"Man is steadily approaching his God" (Qur'an)
I now feel sad, for not returning her love. For neglecting her when she became frail. I hadn't seen her for almost a month, cocooned as I was in my 'busy life. I kept running under the Sun, only to get tired and heavy at the end of the day.
And it wasn't just me. Everyone who gathered yesterday seemed focussed on their individual worldly lives, perhaps forgetting that one day we all have to lie on a bed of soil and stand before our lord. There will hardly be any shadow available on that day.
"Hafeez ho gaya aakhir ajal se hum-aagosh / Tamam shab ka sataya hua sahar se ja mila (Hafeez eventually embraced the death / Pestered for the entire night, he has now united with dawn)"
