He wasn’t born into wealth or privilege by any stretch of their definition. His father (God bless his soul) was an honest, hardworking disciplinarian, of very modest means, who had no choice but to drop out, to work to feed up to 17 mouths in his household. His mother (my grandma) used to tell me stories of him walking 5 km to school everyday as a mere child, often bringing back whatever little lunch money was given to him (if it was), being content with porridge made out of barley and never ever complaining, not matter what happened in his life (that I can attest to).
He was a survivor by every stretch of the words definition. He might have started walking as a child but he never stopped, and along the way he fulfilled his responsibilities as son, a brother, a husband, a father and as a professional, better than most ever will. He bought his dad who used to travel on a bicycle, his first motorcycle, he helped enable his siblings’ marriages, he enrolled his son (me) in schools which were way beyond what he could afford even if it meant that he could never enjoy anything for himself. He never bought a new watch or new shoes or went on vacation, because after paying for me and my sister’s private education there was nothing left for him or my mother.
He was never once pessimistic though, never made any excuses for anything. He would always tell me when I’d complain about a perceived injustice towards me, “son, always prepare for playing against 12 players, 11 opponents and the referee”. I guess he’d crawled his way out of the so many dark places as a child that the world being unfair was nothing to complain about. I think my belief that I can accomplish anything in this world must have come from watching him growing up. To him, there was always a simple solution for everything, if you worked hard enough and prayed hard enough, there was no stopping you.
And for him it finally came true today when he walked his way onto the stage where he was awarded one of the highest awards bestowed upon by the Government of Pakistan “Sitara-e-Imtiaz” (Star of Excellence) for his extraordinary services to the nation in the field of Nuclear Engineering. Watching him walk up on stage and receive the star was undoubtedly, the proudest moment of MY entire life. Every iota of my being wanted to jump up and scream “that there is MY father, he is MY father” but alas, it was a formal ceremony so I had to act all proper, keep the tears in the ducts, but I still clapped as darn hard as I could.
Growing up in a traditional South Asian family you never talk about your feelings, especially with your father, and I know I won’t ever have such a conversation with him, but if I ever did, I would tell him that I could never be as proud of anything that I will ever achieve, as I am of what he’s achieved today. I would tell him that I remember and cherish every little sacrifice he’s ever made for me and my sister, and I wish more than anything that maybe one day my son looks up to me as I look up to him.
P.s I love you father
Published in Daily Times, March 29th 2018.