3a.My Mother

1. My Father

My father worked hard for our betterment. He did a lot for our education and comfort. It is due to his efforts what I and my siblings are today. May Allah bless my father and grant him place in Jannah. Aameen.

2. My Mother

My maternal grand father had established his business in Cairo, Egypt and was living there. He had no children from his first wife. Having waited for many years, he married an Egyptian lady of Turkish descent. From her my maternal grand father had 4 daughters and 3 sons, all born at Cairo, Egypt. My mother was born on Sunday, March 01, 1914, then another daughter on March 23, 1916 who later became my mother-in-law, then a son, then a daughter who later became my younger brother’s mother-in-law, then two sons and then a daughter. Ancestors of my maternal grand mother had migrated from Turkey with Muhammad Ali Pasha (1769–1849 A.D) who was appointed governor of Egypt by Ottoman Empire and later became independent ruler. Muhammad Ali Pasha was born in Macedonia where 23% of population were Turks and Albanians. After fall of Ottoman Empire, Macedonia became part of Yugoslavia, but again became an independent state on break up of U.S.S.R and communist empire. My maternal grand mother died in 1946 at Cairo.

I had a priceless treasure “my mother”. All mothers are good. They care for and bring up their children with labour and toil. They have extreme love / affection for their children, but my mother had special blessings of Allah. She never wished bad for anybody, not even for a person who harmed or worked against her. If somebody lied about her in her presence, she did not refute. Once a person said some thing unfounded and false about my mother to her younger sister (and my mother-in-law). My mother and I were listening. I requested my mother to tell her sister the truth. My mother said, “Every body knows what the truth is. There is no need for me to tell them.” I was unable to understand that sentence but later, I was convinced that my mother was a philosopher. I had read the saying of some good old philosopher “Test of fairness is that how fair you are to those who are not.” My mother was an embodiment of that. She lived to serve her parents, in-laws, siblings (including step-brother and step-sisters), children, grand children and people at large. My mother led a simple life. As late as 1979, I learnt that my mother could speak English when I heard her speaking to someone on telephone. She also knew French. She never talked of her capabilities. She had been educated at a reputable school in Cairo, Egypt. She knew Arabic very well and used to translate verses of Qur’aan Shareef for me.

In my childhood, I had noticed that, some times, my mother took out some Saalen (curry) from the degchi (saucepan) before serving food to us which was not served to any body in the house. The mystery was solved one day when she asked me to give that to a street beggar. Actually, she used to give food to any beggar who came before we ate and if no beggar came before our eating, she used to take out beggar’s share before serving food to us. I never saw her missing a prayer. All her life she never talked face to face with a man. She never grumbled nor said a bad thing about any body. She always wished best for every body and worried for everyone. She had utmost patience during her ailment and distress.

In my school days, I used to keep alarm clock near me to get up for Fajr prayer. Once the clock stopped and I did not get up before sunrise. Mother woke me up and said, “Muslims don’t get up after sunrise.” There after, I never needed alarm clock to wake me up. Now, for the last some months, being over 65 years, sometimes, I do not get up for Fajr prayer and on rising, I feel as if my mother is saying to me, “Muslims don’t get up after sunrise”. I have the honour that my mother was never displeased with me. I also have honour of kissing feet of my mother.

My mother died on June 29, 1980 of sudden brain hemorrhage. May Allah, Al-Rahman, Al-Rahim, Al-Kareem, bless you my dear mother and grant you the best part of Jannah (Paradise). Aameen.

A poem written by me about one month after death of my beloved mother.

میری امی میری جنت
جون سن 1980

میں اک ننھا سا بچہ تھا ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ میں کچھ بہی کر نہ سکتا تھا
مگر میں تجھ کو پیارا تھا ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ تیری آنکھوں کا تارہ تھا
خود جاگتی مجھے سلاتی تھی ۔ ۔ ۔ میری امّی میری امّی

سوچا تھا :-
نہ ہو گی تجھ میں جب طاقت ۔ ۔ ۔ رکھوں گا تجھ سے میں الفت
دوں گا تجھ کو بڑی راحت ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ اٹھاؤں گا میں تیری خدمت
جو خدمت تو اٹھاتی تھی ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ میری امّی میری امّی

مگر :-
یک دم روٹھ کے تو چلی گئی ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ اس فانی دنیا سے جاوداں دنیا
نہ خدمت تو نے مجھ سے لی ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ نہ میں کندھا دے سکا تجھ کو
کہاں ڈھونڈوں تیری ممتا ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ میری امّی میری امّی
مقام آخرت تیرا ہے جنت ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ اس دنیا میں تھی تو میری جنت
جو نہ دے سکا میں تجھ کو ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ وہ پھول تیری لحد پہ برساتا ہوں
اپنی بیچارگی پرآنسو بہاتا ہوں ۔ ۔ ۔ میری امّی میری امّی
تیری قبر کے سرہانے تھا بیٹھا ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ تیری روح آ کے گذر گئی
پھیلی چار سو مہک گلاب کی ۔ ۔ ۔ میری روح معطّر ہو گئی
نہ تجھے دیکھ سکا نہ بول سکا ۔ ۔ ۔ میری امّی میری امّی
تیری دعاؤں سے جیتا تھا ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ تیری دعاؤں سے پھلتا تھا
تیری دعاؤں کے بل بوتے ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ میں کسی سے نہ ڈرتا تھا
اب بز دل بن گیا ہوں میں ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ میری امّی میری امّی
اب صبح سویرے کون جگائیگا ۔ ۔ ۔ آیات قرآنی مجھے کون سناۓ گا
تحمل و سادگی کون سکھاۓ گا ۔ ۔ ۔ تجھ بن کچھ بھی نہ بھاۓ گا
وللہ مجھے اپنے پاس لے جاؤ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ ۔ میری امّی میری امّی

Here is translation for those who do not know Urdu though it may not convey the correct feelings

My Mom . . . My Paradise

June 1980

When I was a little child . . . And I couldn’t do a thing
I was dear to you . . . . . . . . And was star of your eyes
You used to keep awake . . . Just to ensure my sleep
My mom My Mom

I thought

When you will be weak . . . . . I will love you as much
I will keep you very happy . . . . I will serve you well
The way you served me . . . . . . My mom My Mom

But

You left me so hurriedly . . . . . . From mortal to the immortal world
Neither you let me serve you . . . Nor could I attend you funeral
Where will I find your love . . . . . My mom My Mom
Paradise is your destiny . . . . . . You were my Paradise in this world
I was unable to present you . . . Those flowers I spread on your grave
And I cry with helplessness . . . . My mom My Mom
While sitting by your grave . . . . . I felt you soul passed by
Fragrance of roses spread . . . . . Refreshing my soul
Couldn’t see you nor speak to . . . My mom My Mom
I lived with your prayers . . . . . . . . I grew with your prayers
It was due to your prayers . . . . . . That I was never scared
Now I am becoming coward . . . . My mom My Mom
Who will awake me at dawn . . . . Who will recite to me Qur’aan
Who will teach me simplicity N patience . . Nothing attracts me without you
Request you take me along . . . . My mom My Mom