Anwar Saleem Ahmad remembered

Anniversaries and moments of significance are difficult to handle without the presence of the ones you love. But sometimes even harder are the perfectly ordinary days. The days when the sun will shine just right, and the flowers will bloom perfectly. The kind of days you're glad to be alive and suddenly more aware of those who are no longer around to appreciate the little, seemingly trivial joys of life.

When Anwar Saleem Ahmad passed away in 2005, we -- his daughters -- wrote a memorial article to be published in this newspaper, which was the platform for his writing for almost a decade. We tend to consider specific periods of time as substantial -- 5-years, 10-years, 20-years. But when mourning a loss, time behaves differently. Every year, even every minute is significant. And so we continued writing the article each year, in the same newspaper. This year marks 11 years since he left us.

Life and circumstance were constantly a trial for our father. Having lost his mother at the age of 2, and then his father some years later to an uncomfortable second marriage, the task of raising him fell to his two elder sisters, still very young themselves.

In 1992, a road accident left our father paralyzed from the waist down, and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. After months of extensive physical therapy, with our mother's unshakable support, he rejoined the civil services in Rawalpindi, where he continued to work with a level of integrity and dedication that often outstripped many of his able-bodied peers. But life sent another challenge for him, this time in the form of that most-dreaded disease: cancer. His courage and strength during his 5-year battle gained respect and affection from nurses, doctors, and even security guards at the hospital. The merit of a man is best judged from what is said about him after he is gone. Our father's funeral prayers were carried out twice, because of the sheer number of people who showed up to pay their last respects.

Even now, more than a decade after his death, people continue to remember him and speak of him fondly, as one of the most honest, dedicated and hardworking civil servants in the country.

We were raised in an unconventional household by four wonderful parents. They raised us in a house where art, culture, and above all, the pursuit of knowledge was cherished, respected, and encouraged. Weekend mornings were often spent learning to sketch the world map from memory or trying to understand the strategic importance of the Straits of Malacca. Amir Hamza was as welcome in our bookshelves as Harry Potter. It was the kind of household we hope to emulate now for our own children.

Had he been alive today, he would've been grandfather to four beautiful baby girls. There is pride and heartbreak every time we see a glimpse of him in each of these little girls - the shape of the head, the wispy hair, the inquisitive soul. They know him today as 'Nana who lives in the clouds', and as they grow older, we hope his legacy will serve as a marker for how his grandchildren live their lives.

We love you Ba, and we will miss you always.

-- Suraya, Saman, Maheen and Mariam Saleem Farooq