The Mighty Tree- Dhoop Ka Tukra
A tribute to my late father
Abu Jee — Saeed Ahmad Khan
2 years later
[31st July 1946- 30th May 2021]
Mariam Saeed Khan
Sometimes people go through things, that make them grow beyond their capacity. Losing my both parents, before I even turned 30- was not a part of my life plan. But Al-Mighty Allah plans as He wills. I do not have answers to most questions, but that is what the journeys are about. I have made peace with that. I never thought I would be writing a tribute to my late father-Abu Jee- Saeed Ahmad Khan after his passing. Just two years ago now and after making peace with his death. 30th May 2021, was destined to happen. Two weeks ago, that year- we celebrated Meethi Eid together. 1 week ago, I told him about Tilla Jogia’s adventure which I visited. [That travel story is for another time]
My dhoop ka tukra or the mighty tree, would fall apart sooner than later. It is true, that fathers are the glue that keeps the house together and makes it protected, loved, and sheltered into a home. Especially, if he’s the only one left. This is in the loving memory of my Abu Jee- that will be remembered always in the legacies and generations to come. For he was my mother, my father, and my friend. People like him, are a rarity in this time zone. Not a biased starting for a man like him.
I thought Abu Jee would make it to 85–90s easily. He was the resilient soldier of my life. How could he not?
“Mariam Beta meray pey kab likhou gyi , jase apni ami kay liye likhte ho?” [Mariam Beta, when will you write on me, the way you write about your late mother- Ami Jee Chuzoo- Rukhsana Shaheen Saeed Khan]
Abu Jee usually used to say this to me, while we were reminiscing about my mother’s memories and what she was like. The other times, it was after when he read something that I wrote. I used to write for my late mother, who we lost when I was one and a half or almost two- she was or going to turn 35, when a rare form of Leukemia Blood Cancer took her to the next world of skies. She couldn’t come back from London, England after the phases of chemotherapy took place. She came but in flowers. In life, wars, love, and fatal announcements of diseases- timing matters a lot. Or dare I say the destines — Maktub (In Arabic- it is translated as destiny). It altered my father and his six kids for life after we lost our mother in my childhood.
I did not know what death was, as my father held on to me, and my siblings. We had the love of a remaining tree standing strong and firmly, yet gently by a thread of a gentleman. He didn’t let me feel what the loss of a parent at that age was. I either used to cry as a toddler for the separation of a safe place, whenever it used to go missing or I needed familiarity in my time. I used to go silent or emotionally withdrawn at that time. I started to realize, all that when I took the journey of healing and spiritually bandaging myself.
There is a name for Al-Mighty–in Arabic- it is called Al-Mussaawir. He creates and paints the destines to the perfectionism of high altitude. When my “ Mussawir” painted this on my life story canvas; how I could not surrender. We are never given any choices –it is all the chances that led to circumstances of becoming- it is what it is.
I did write and followed my creative pursuits for my father too, but never said it to him. All this is for my parents. I was just waiting for the perfect time to record his audio and videos of him recalling his college times; poetry recitals; songs from his time; ghazals and political analysis, since he was a political figure but didn’t pursue actively after the 2000s. He was also an advocate lawyer whose love for the intellect and literature was vast; I was waiting for him to recover from Liver Cirrhosis. A disease he was suffering from 2018 summers till 2021; when I lost him in midyear.
My grief journey began even before losing him. I was somehow, preparing myself about the uncertainty of life much before May 2021. Going backward, May 2018 when I and my family went to Saudia Arabia for a spiritual journey- Umraah. I felt that a new awakening was coming for me. At that time, I did not know, but I could see it in my head and gut. But, I did not anticipate it would come at me at a tornado speed changing all that I am, knew of and everything of my life existence would be shaken to its root cause. I would never wish that for anyone. Not everyone can come out of it and grow peacefully in flowers. As the verses in Quran translate to, “and we are with the patient.”
Storms after storm and vacuums of spaces came along then. The first year is usually like adapting to, what the new syllabus of life was all about. Sometimes holding on to a body that’s invisible and sometimes looking into his footprints of what was and what isn’t. At once, everything changed and altered me for life. I was an adult, who had to prove to the world that I can do this without my parents — whatever I set my eyes on. But the first years aren’t that way. I couldn’t prove it to the world but I could, as I have been resilient all my life without the most unconditional love of my life, leaving me earlier too (my mother). I knew how death worked but this death was the sum of all the deaths in a domino effect that hit my orbit center. Once and for all. He was not only my Abu, but my Ami wrapped into one. I had to grieve both at once. I wasn’t prepared for this. The first year became pausing, creating things from a place of silver lining, writing research, and projects, traveling to mountains and back, leaning on my support system of friends that are chosen family, family, family friends, and various ties of different age groups. They are designed for us to pause, surrender, cry our hearts out, and let go of many opportunities as our times are not meant to be. Letting go of some unreal friendships, ties, and people — identity losses happened at once. I was no more someone’s daughter. But in memory and honor, I am still.
I was ahead of my learning curve in all the departments of life, way before I actually realized I was. Then God asked me to slow down, for all that I prayed is coming in a circle, but I have to be patient enough for things to be in their final round. I have to see through, the inner and outer worlds of myself and the people. I had to see my father in his skin as an individual. Losing taught me, that I am not the same person who I was. Before this loss and after this, there’s a new me. I lost my identity of being his daughter, lost friendships, a timeline of opportunities, and a lot more, but I gained realities. It was hard. Sometimes knowing that everyone around me is so sorted and got their life on track, isn’t fair enough that I have to build a whole new world for me, all by myself.
They forgot just one biggest reality and maybe I forgot their reality — I was healing and facing challenges day by day; they were facing life in its track of what’s already set. No comparisons to either both set of life, but losing both parents is the most painful experience of life, which changes your health, well-being, and if I may say — I try hard not to burden my friends and family with my emotional data and I want to show up for them, as I do but sometimes I make mistakes. Aint all relations, based on gentleness, forgiving, and shedding versions of ourselves for a better tomorrow from yesterdays?
Of course, truth be told, I received love in the last 2 years more than I have given, but I tried that I gave and more of it. To be in the present, I still remember all that is happening, as I am living well intended and that’s why I vividly remember the last two of my new altered life too.
Love is a verb that goes missing in the most peculiar places. Everything in this city of Lahore reminded me of him. Especially starting my day by going downstairs. He used to send me the flowers of Jasmine- Motiya upstairs along with red roses outside my room. I later realized these flowers were my mother’s favorite ones. That’s his scent for me and it follows me wherever I go.
Now that he is gone- I still collect his flowers from his garden for myself; as a way of showing up for his love- to bringing him with me wherever I went. I got sick a lot in the last two years. Maybe that was my body’s way of processing and regenerating a new version of me. We think we have time, till we do not have it. That’s the case. We do not have the time.
Abu Gee was born on 31st July 1946- a year before the subcontinent’s partition as he used to reminisce. He also shared his birthday with Fatima Jinnah and J.K. Rowling. He passed away on 30th May 2021. 74 years old — full of storms, calm, and an ocean full of life; he never got time to rest, especially after losing his companion and his wife when she was 35. She was born on 10th July 1959 and passed away on 10th January 1994. Isn’t that mystical? 34 and 74 had to wait for decades before departing to be together in the magical realm of divine’s eternal abode. Losing both my parents before 30, isn’t something that I had in my mind. Having the expectations of what it should be, and having people who tell you all your life to do this or that, or if I am now taking my decisions more timely, firmly, to know that there is no dark cloud following me. Now, my identity is becoming; after explosions of truth bombs and liberations of the timeline have dropped me off.
Abu Jee’s prayer for a lifetime that I have heard from him was:
‘Ay Allah mujhe itne mualahat daein kay mein apne bachoun ko unkay paar pey khara kar doun’’-[Al-Mighty give me this much courage and strength, that I make my children stand on their two feet].
That’s all he asked in all his prayers and he didn’t give in to life’s circumstances. He never remarried after my mother’s passing away. Everyone asked him, how he would manage these kids ranging from 1 to 11 years old. As he was a man in a patriarchal society; no one expected him to have the courage, strength, fatherhood, motherhood, and resilience of a woman. Everyone doubted him. Everyone left him. No one made it easier for him. He was only one man army show and we were his cubs of a lion-hearted. He had warmth. He had love in him. He always used to embrace me. Taught me emotional resilience.
Most of our conversations would be filled with his politically inactive career after he left it all for his kids. The political lands and current affairs, poetry and ghazal, movies dialogues, and my life achievements and failures. Whenever I used to write something, he would call his friends and tell them that I wrote this and that. Whenever I tried to reach the world- he would be like expressing his happiness double times. For him, I was his universe. Maybe, I reminded him of his aspirations in me and of his late companion. The wonder and curiosity of life.
We never agreed on anything; perhaps our differences made us who we were and made us learn from one another; as we had an age gap of decades- but he always understood my language and translation. He always made sure, that I stood by my truth and he with his- but I tried to bridge that gap after our arguments were filled with silence and him looking into my eyes for answers. Sometimes, the silence was all our conversation in the last two years of his life. I used to have my food and cup of tea with him while he was getting sick. I would update him about the current affairs of Pakistan and we would listen to some old record of Kishore Kumar or Noor Jahan. He came with me to 7UP Foodies Festival — an event by JBnJaws in December 2019 — I did not know that was his last event with me that we attended together. Life came full circle, he took me and my siblings to our first event at a concert of Shehzad Roy’s in 1997 at GymKhana Club Lahore. After that festival, his disease took over his fragile health. Sometimes the movies would range from Muqaddar Ka Sikandar to Hum Tum, Dilwale Dulanhia Le Jainege that we watched together and laughed, cried and analyzed scenes then. After all, I was his cup of tea that mattered. He taught me Urdu literature which for me was like a Mission Impossible.
Abu was a man of few words but full of action. He was not too expressive but rather private about his emotions, disease, and problems. But sometimes, he used to surrender in front of me. His eyes used to glow whenever he took us to the fields of gold- his ancestors and his self-made lands in our roots of Kasur when he was healthy. However, COVID-era hit us hard and he was confined to his room mostly. His disease and his life span were shortened by not being outside his lands that had some busy routine and magic in healing.
For me; life was about celebration. But we cried a lot together and sometimes in ordinary times. He was my Google Encyclopedia, who gave all six children the best of everything he could. He could not say no, so he would try bringing logical statements whenever I used to bring something to his notice. Whatever I imagined as a kid in my imaginative realm- he would bring that same present from any toy shop, whether it was a train set or a mini version of a big guitar with strings; as I liked real things in toys too — he would do his best to be the Santa Claus for me after yearly birthday gifts from my bucket list. He would make sure that I was taught patience by waiting a year, to get the best of the toys on my birthday.
He kept building my patience for the best things in life. I did not know what he was preparing me for; to be self-sufficient and to find happiness within. I was a bit agitated by that, as he was pushing me away from him. Though the COVID era was quite challenging from 2020 to 2021. I wouldn’t feel weird attending events on my own, movie premieres, or literary festivals. Not a loner but sometimes friends and I did not have our schedules aligned. He knew by doing that, I would be more ready to face the world or be on my own more. All my life, I have lived a very protected and sheltered life and did not know half of the realities. Half I knew by God’s grace.
But on 2nd December 2021- when I was cutting the birthday cake- I wished to see the soul and spirit of his- and a year later my birthday present from that Santa Claus –didn’t arrive. Still await him in my dreams or in the little signs of hidden corners of our house, roads, and places we went. Weddings, birthdays, events — they all changed their map of life and sometimes make us sad. Ironically, I wish I didn’t delay recording him for an interview conversation, even when his health was becoming weaker. Most of my intellect and creativity are because of my parents as they were a mix of creative zen.
Now, that I look back I have taken on the best of their qualities and some bad too, but they are alive in souls and in my chamber of heart. As with my father’s passing — the newspapers still come but there is a missing analyst; the speaker volume blasting from a cellphone coming out; the music of old songs still reminds me of his voice but no one to mimic those dialogues with and to sing his favorite lines; his TV and audio system are still waiting for someone to play for the first time. Of course his political affairs of ‘Pakistan ko logn ne kha liye.” [No one was honest with our country- Pakistan and thus it is in a rotten state]
On 31st July 2021- I celebrated his 75th birthday but the count stopped at 74. 76th last July and 77 is coming on 31st July. It made me feel the loss more and more. With time, the loss expands and people remind you of all the shortcomings of what I am not doing yet and why I have not done it properly. I wish it was not that way. I am doing whatever I can and more than that, going out of the way personally. It felt empty without him. No one is winning nor losing; just floating and forgiving with compassion.
As research suggests that the loss of parents is unbearable, the pain awakens and changes the heart for real too. It is like a protective shield of a father is gone forever- knowing that parents are awaiting at home and not knowing- with a lot of in-between lying, is what makes it the hardest thing. With the crushing sounds of a building and you just watch it crashing at once. It takes time to piece together your life in a fresh way.
That day it rained heavily on 31st July 2022 and I was cycling with Critical Mass Lahore to Androon Sher- Walled City. The irony was that it rained heavily like this when I first started cycling in April 2019 — when Abu asked me, “You would not stop at anything, would you? Even if it is raining you would be out there cycling and thunders are telling you to stop. But nothing scares you?”
Well- the thought of losing my father scared me and felt like an alien thought, though it was coming for me. I did not say that aloud to him. Later, I found newspaper clippings of his interviews where he was featured for his political career milestones. I did not know that I carried forward that spark from my parent’s genius genes.
He had a folder full of pictures, newspapers and papers- published from the 80s and 90s. He had clipped those in a file for himself. Something I borrowed from him- was his organized skills and managing it.
So many lessons my Abu taught me. That I can now understand between the lines. He made me a whole person and knew all my flaws- but told me to perfect the strengths first so that flaws do not kill me much.
“Ek Din Bik Jaaega Maati kay mol Jag mein reh jaeinge Yaare Tare Bol”- Raj Kapoor’s Song from the film Joker. This was my Abu Jee-‘s favorite song. I never understood those lines that I have heard from him over the years. But in 2023, I can ideally make sense of it.
The words, feelings and his persona lives on in me. In his photographs, in his disagreements with me, and in his love that was unconditional; fierce, and protective. He made me love like a woman but protect like a man. Given the best of both genders’ qualities. Of course, sometimes our unfinished conversations and things we leave never give us closure. The questions and regrets- but maybe that is what makes us better living for the times to come.
To water the plants and to record before it is late. Not only, did I lose him, but I also lost a lot of other things, in life that encompasses humanity of relations, things, identity, and what becoming an adult means. It is like all your life, you have been told to swim in a river or lake, but now you have jumped into the ocean and you do whatever tools you have been given. I am sailing, floating and swimming just like God wanted me to do. This is for my parents- to the life that remains and staying alive-e-e-e-e-e.
It is 2 Years now without him. Aap Kay baad, Aap Dono Kay sath [After you, along with you both]
Abu Jee as we used to say “ Musafar hun yaaroun na ghar hai na tikkana, mujhe bus chalte jaana hai” the famous Indian song from Kishore Kumar’s era- but Abu Gee; you wouldn’t be with me in that zone. You would be with me standing invisibly besides me and knocking on my door from the dreams and asking me to wake up and get going. Love will find you in ways you least expect; Mariam Beta.
We miss you Abu Jee dearly each passing day. Till. we meet again to share our stories from this world to next.
