This not an effort to glorify anyone; I am pacifying myself.
Like an old painting- faded but clear, some frames are there in mind which remains timeless and priceless. In of those frames, I see my father’s loving face and his effort to keep my punk styled hair down. He is talking to me, to distract me and to keep me patient until he finishes his effort which seldom succeeds.
He used to work far from the city and used to spend many hours sitting in the car. When he reached home, he was never tired and never complained when we don’t let him rest. We went out almost everyday and he made sure that we looked clean and tidy. He neither had a car nor was the taxi service in Abu Dhabi good in early 80s. Still he managed to take us out almost everyday and provided us some good moments to remember in life. (I stay in the city, just 15 minutes away from my Office. I have a car and taxis are plenty but we go out twice or thrice a week.)
He was the second boy of his parents and had to work hard with his parents to move ahead in life. They never had the money to support his studies and he had only one shirt which he dyes after sometime to make it look new. (I had different sets for School, Madrasa, Family gatherings or Parties and for daily use.) He completed his 10th with high marks, scoring 100% in mathematics. He was so good in mathematics that even after years in studies and hours at work, I still feel that he was faster than me in calculations. He seldom used a calculator and recently my uncle told me an incident which he witnessed.
Before every trip to India, like all expatriates, he used to go for a major shopping. In those days, there were no duty free shops or big brands in India and almost everything was brought from abroad. Lot of items will be there and the billing itself takes some time. After one of these shopping, my father and my uncle were waiting in the counter for the Salesman/Cashier to finish the billing. There were no barcode scanners and the cashier was relying on the calculator to add up all the prices. In the end when he gave the total, my father didn’t agree with his calculations. He told the Cashier that there is a difference of xx Dirhams. My Uncle was surprised and the Cashier was angry. He told there is no way as he used the calculator and he asked my father to use the calculator and try it again. My father started adding the prices of each item loudly without a calculator and he gave a number and asked the cashier to do the same with his calculator. Amazingly, my father was right and accurate to the 2nd decimal. On the way home my uncle asked when he managed to add the prices, as there were many items in many numbers, the spent hours there and it was hard for him to see the prices when the cashier was doing the addition. He told, “I always check the price before purchasing and was adding the prices in my mind to make sure that it never exceeds the money in his wallet”.
He couldn’t continue his studies after 10th and worked in different parts of India before reaching UAE by sea (those days, from India to UAE by sea, can’t even think about it. Now-a-days, the three and half hours in Plane is boring, tiring, no leg space….?). If he had the opportunities I had in my life, he might have reached somewhere beyond my imagination.
When we returned to India for our studies, he used to visit us in every six months. Telephone was not very common and he missed us – me, my mother, my sister, younger brother and the youngest brother who was very small and much attached to him. After our return, he moved to a Camp far from the City and was staying alone. There were no satellite channels or Fm stations and even the news papers that they used to get were 1 or 2 days old. A good part of life, all alone in a room, in a camp is a sacrifice (We have 100 of channels, DVDs, Laptops, mobile phones and our lives are boring?).
He was so happy and paid extra money to get a telephone connection and will wait for Friday afternoons to call us. But we or me, so busy playing with my friends just outside the house, at times hesitated to talk to him or will do after couple of calls from my mother. Living alone, far from family, waiting for weeks to hear your children and I was busy playing……
When I grew old, I was scared to hear that he is coming home. I was the eldest (I lost my elder brother when he was 7. He had blood cancer and my parents lost their first child on the day before Eid) and he had high hopes on me. I showed extraordinary brilliance in the early years of my education and managed a double promotion from 1st to 3rd. After 5th, my performance graph commenced its journey south and my father was getting worried. In the beginning he was soft but when I continued to be the same, his tone changed and started getting tough with me. It was his responsibility, it was his dream and hope but I never realized. Whenever he asked about my studies, I got really irritated and had a feeling that he doesn’t love me. I was afraid of facing him and though I haven’t seen my father for long time, I never welcomed his arrival news.
He was so happy when I completed my 10th with very good marks, much above their expectations and I joined for Entrance coaching classes. But there I started enjoying my newly gifted freedom and ended up somewhere in the belly of the rank list. He was again disappointed but didn’t leave me on the streets. He paid some big money for my BBA admission and in 5 years I completed my MBA as college topper. That time he used to spend almost 10% of his salary for my studies and hostel expenses. Still he managed to live in UAE, built a big house in India and bought some properties for our secured future.
I had to wait for 8 months to get my first job and that made him think that MBA was a wrong choice. His hope of having a support in his life was fading and my first salary was so low that his worries increased.
Gradually I went up in my career and in the meantime, his health became really bad and he retired and went back to India. He was diabetic and a major part of life he didn’t take anything sweet. After retirement he wasn’t lucky enough to enjoy the fruits of his hard work. He was happy that I completed my CMA and joined a bank as a Financial Analyst. By that time he realized that the road I chose was not that bad and I earned better than many doctors and engineers around (thank God).
In his last days he really wanted to see me and he used to talk a lot on the phone. I decided to go to India after the completion of a project in the bank where I worked. He was waiting to see me but just a week before my leave he left us, leaving me no chance to see his loving face or hold his hand or to hear his voice for a last time. My father, who sacrificed his life for us, who never lived for him, never spent a penny to show off himself left me without seeing me for a long time.
I looked at his face; he was lying in peace after suffering some unbearable pain in the last few months. That moment I realized that whatever I gained and learnt in life became worthless as I couldn’t fulfil my father’s last wish. He will never see me again, never advise or talk. He gave lot of love which I didn’t realize and failed to return at least a part of it.
I got married and have a baby girl. I work in a good company in a reputed position and have my own apartment. But my father didn’t live to see me get married and see my daughter. I wanted to bring my father here and see them play with my kid. I am not lucky enough to have it in my life. It will never, will never ever happen.
To all my friends whose parents are alive, please we will realize the value of their sacrifices only when we become parents and when our parents leave us. When I see my daughter I realize my father’s love for me. Please call your parents, please try to be with them and when they call you home please leave everything and be with them. You may never a get a second chance.
