I try hard to maintain my focus on the ceremony but drift away now and then. The third Sunday of June - this day has always held immense importance in my life, but today is extra special.
I try hard to maintain my focus on the ceremony but drift away now and then. The third Sunday of June - this day has always held immense importance in my life, but today is extra special. Celebrating this day at the army head quarters was something I couldn’t have imagined. Once again, I focus my attention to the host, but my eyes are drawn to the clock; somehow, its needles seem to be moving in anti-clockwise direction, taking me into the realm of time I know so well.
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I have often heard people say that the best gift their father gave them was that he believed in them. It turned out quite opposite for me. My father died when I was too young, so I did not really know him. But the best ever gift of believing in me that I received was from my son. My son believed in me and supported me in times when no one else did. Little did I know that the best ever was still yet to come.
It was one of those sunny days in June. I was sitting in the lawn with my back towards the sun, when my son came out of the house with his toothy grin. He greeted me cheerfully and hugged me. That was what he used to do every morning, but I could see today was special for him. It was written on his shining face; his perpetual smile gave the surprise away. I asked him about it, to tell me what had made him so happy that day. He laughed and wondered how I could guess his every expression. I waived his question, insisting that he answered mine first. What he told me next surprised me. “Baba, I know how you wanted to learn and be a graduate but the circumstances led you to another path. Now, I have come across a way that could help you in achieving your long lost dream.”
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Like I said, I don’t remember much about my father. When I was ten, he was killed by a speeding car when he was returning from work. They said it was some irresponsible driver who did not even bother to take him to the hospital and left him to die on the road. It was a tragedy that turned our happy life upside down. A decade of ease with my father looking after his family was suddenly over. It seemed life had finished for us, but we had to move on.
Being the eldest among four siblings, I had no choice but to abandon studies and bring money home. My mother sent me to a mechanic’s workshop, so I could earn money that would feed the five of us. She also started working as a maid in one of those big houses I always dreamt about having.
Twelve years I worked in that mechanic’s workshop under my abusive boss. Unable to take it anymore, I raised my voice at him for the first time, and left the job. But, I still had to pay for my two brothers’ education and marry off my sister. A friend of mine gave with me the idea of joining the army.
To fulfil my responsibilities, I joined army as a butler. I worked in the big mansions of colonels and generals. It was at that time that I promised myself that my son would become an army officer. While working with one of those officers, I learned to read and write. But I had no time to take any exam or to receive any degree. Anyway, slowly things became better. My sister got married, and my brothers graduated and started working.
My mother got me married, too. My wife was a good partner and together we overcame the hard times. We started our family in the small army quarter that was used for servants. I had three sons. I worked harder and harder to provide them with a better lifestyle. They got the best education I could provide. My sons did not disappoint me, either. They were good students. I wanted all three of them to join army but the eldest two had their own plans. One of them got a scholarship in an engineering college and the other wanted to study English. I was waiting patiently for my third son’s decision about career.
There was a time when my eldest son came to me and said, “Baba, there is no need for you to work anymore. I will earn enough to support you.” I thought he was saying it out of love.
I smiled at him and said softly: “Don’t worry. You should be more focused on achieving your goal now that you are so close to it.” He said, “I will study as well as earn, but I don’t want you to work anymore.”
“I am not that old and I love my job. It’s not the time yet for me to depend on you,” I stressed.
“I am not saying it because I want you to depend on me. I am ashamed of your job because everyone at my college makes fun of my father’s occupation behind my back.”
I was shocked. I couldn’t speak for a while. I just remained quiet and did not say anything. I had nothing to say. My son was ashamed of the job that had helped him grow up. What could I say to that?
Then there was another time that I can’t forget! It was my eldest son’s graduation and I was getting ready to go to his graduation ceremony. He came to my room and said, “There is no need for you to go, Baba. I can manage it myself.” I laughed at him and told him that I had been waiting for this moment since the day he was born. He just said plainly that he did not want me to go. I asked him why and he said because he does not want his friends to know that his father is an uneducated man. He also said that my job was also a reason.
My second son entered the room just in time to hear these reasons. I looked at him for support. Instead, he said, “That’s what I also wanted to say to you. We don’t want you to continue with this job. It’s shameful for us. If you get retirement now, they will give you pension. We will take care of the rest of the expenses.” I just stared blankly at them.
Later, I shut myself in the room and stayed there. That day I did not come out of my room for dinner. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. I cannot and will never be able to describe the pain I felt! My sons were ashamed of me! The little babies that I cradled in my arms, helped them in taking their first steps ... now that they are all grown up, they tell they are ashamed of me.
In the morning, when I opened the door of my room, I found a card at the doorstep. I bent down to pick it up. I could read enough to know that it was World’s No. 1 Dad card. It was from my youngest, seventeen-year-old son who told me in that card that day that he was so proud of me and my job that he was joining army in order to finish my dream. I started to cry at the blessing of my God.
He came out of his room, sat next to me, hugged me and wiped my tears with his hands. Sitting there with me on the floor, he said to me the words I will always remember, “This is the first time I have seen you cry. You are the strongest man I have ever known in my life. Promise me that you will never break down like this. I don’t want to see that, ever! I am proud of you and one day, you will say this to me too that you are proud of me.” I told him there on the threshold that I was already proud of him and he said, “It’s not the right time, Baba, not yet. I have not done anything yet to make you proud.” I couldn’t tell him that he had made me feel so blessed and proud that day. I decided to wait for the right time to tell him that. So, I waited and waited, until he passed out from the academy and invited me to his passing out ceremony. He introduced me to everyone like I was his most precious gem, his most prized possession. And when he received the Sword of Honour, I felt so proud of him once again. I told him so, and he laughed and said “not yet”, that it was not the right moment.
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He was a captain the morning he came and told me that he had found a way for me to study. I was amused at the idea. I wanted to try what he wanted me to do but I was so afraid - afraid of what people might say. An old man like me whose feet were in the grave, striving at this age to get a degree. When I told him this, he kissed my hands and said that I was not an old man for him. I was his father, his father he is proud of. But for my satisfaction no one will ever know until I had succeeded in achieving my dream. He appointed a tutor who would come to our house for three hours every day to help me study. I used to laugh at myself and he used to say, “Have faith in yourself, Baba jan. Just for my happiness. I can already see a degree in your hand and everyone praising you for your achievement. You will see, your older sons will come to you and say that they are proud of you.” I just laughed at him more than ever. He had got this crazy idea of educating me just to make his brothers say that they were proud of me.
Anyhow, I accomplished what he wanted. I just did it for him, to see his happiness. The day I received my BA degree with English as my major, I saw the happiness on his face that I had never seen before, not even on his passing out day.
Like he had said, when everyone came to know of it, they appreciated me, even my older sons. That day, I felt like he was my father and I his son, because the faith he had in me had borne fruit that day. He hugged me and whispered to me, “You have made me feel so proud.” I smiled and told him that “that” was supposed to be my dialogue. He repeated his favourite sentence, “Not yet, Baba, not yet. It’s not the right time.”
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The day I saw his coffin, covered in my country’s flag, I knew it was the right time. “I am proud of you, my son, so proud of you. And I love Allah for giving me a son like you. I love you.”
He was one of the shuhada who got martyred in operation Zarb-e-Azab. I did not cry; it was my last gift to him. You see, I did not want him to see me break down. I wanted him to feel proud of me, too.
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The sound of clapping brings me back to the present. I am at the ceremony honouring the martyred soldiers by presenting ‘Sitar-e-Imtiaz’ to their parents. Now, it is my turn to receive the honour for my son. I stand up and walk with dignity to the stage. My hands are trembling when I receive my son’s second best gift on Father’s Day. This Sitar-e-Imtiaz is the proof that I am proud of him.
