“Being the eldest, it is your decision,” my esteemed mother said softly. My siblings stood beside her, their voices trembling, eyes wet with the pain which only the deepest love can cause. It seemed as if I were trapped in the worst horror scene ever written, where the heart ruptures and the soul whispers: Please, not this.
Despite having made a number of life-and-death decisions in pressure-cooker situations during my career, nothing prepared me for this Armageddon. How do you tell the doctors to remove the BiPAP, knowing fully well what would happen to Muhammad Zulfiqar Khan, my father, who gave me my identity, my name? How do you let go of the giant who gave you everything his time, his strength, his love, rather his life and call it mercy?
But seeing the suffering and pain, the rational mind took over for a moment and, amidst the densest fog ever, clarity came like a shooting star, brightening the darkest of times. After again asking the doctors an infinite number of times, I took the most momentous and saddest decision of my life to take my most esteemed father, our universe, off the machines.
At 2:46 a.m., on 1st November 2025, exactly after 54 minutes, he left for his heavenly abode. Those 54 minutes have been engraved in the deepest recesses of my soul. I understood, for the first time, what the pressure of time truly is. Tik tok, tik tok. The seconds converting into minutes, and one hopes against hope, tears rolling down as if all the clouds have let loose their reservoirs of rain that these minutes might build into hours and then days and then years and then eternity. But alas. We humans are zilch in the cosmos of time.
While his two sons held his hands and his grandson held his feet, my Abboo left us, forever.
I do not have words to express the passage of time in these past days. I was in an abyss of unknown depths. And memories. Oh, the memories engulfed me, devouring me completely.
Someone asked me how I would describe him. I said three words: Integrity, hard work, and faith. After fighting in the 1965 war and being injured, he took early retirement. He worked very, very hard and sent his four children to the top schools of Lahore: the boys to St Anthony’s High School and the girls to the Convent of Jesus and Mary. My brother and I completed our Senior Cambridge, went to Government College Lahore and then completed our Civil Engineering with Honours. Both of us did our CSS. I joined the Police Service of Pakistan, and my brother joined the Inland Revenue Service. I served as the IGP of three police forces. My brother, after taking early retirement, went to do his Master’s from LSE and has become a renowned consultant, currently working as Country Director of Wood Mackenzie. So, it was the hard work of my esteemed father that his sons achieved the highest pedestals this life has to offer.
The discipline, pride, and empathy which he instilled in us from our childhood helped us through the fabric of time
It doesn’t stop here. My sisters did even better. My youngest sister is one of the very few Pakistanis to be appointed as a Magistrate to the Court of England. She is the top British Government interpreter for state visits, where she translates from Urdu/Hindi to English for the Prime Ministers of the United Kingdom, including David Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson and Liz Truss. Recently, she interpreted between Indian Prime Minister Modi and the Prime Minister of Canada, Mark Carney, at the G7 Summit held in Canada.
The older one, after teaching at a top school in Lahore, set up a flourishing business in the UAE and is a trailblazer in her own right.
It doesn’t stop here. His grandchildren raised the torch even further. They went to Aitchison College, Lahore Grammar School, LUMS, LSE, Warwick University, Birmingham University, Cornell University, Boston, Massachusetts, and the California College of the Arts.
One of my closest friends asked me if I had any regrets about not going to the United States for my studies. (After securing 740/800 in GMAT, I was offered a full scholarship in 1990 by Wharton Business School, which was then and still is the top-rated business school in the world.) I came down and sought permission from my esteemed father. He said, “Don’t leave me.” I said, “Yes, Baba.” He was the one who asked me to do CSS, and it was only his prayers that I qualified in the 1990 exam after studying for three months. Just his wish and prayer, and faith in me propelled this life-changing contour.
I told my friend that even if I had the entire riches of the world, they would not match the one hour of massaging his feet for years. Not even for a moment in my 59 years of life did the thought cross my mind that I should have gone abroad and left him. No, sir, no. I was blessed to have served him and my esteemed mother to the best of my abilities, and had the honour of spending my entire life with them.
All fathers are the heroes of their children. It is the only relationship that works day and night for the betterment of the family and would give their life for them without any thought. My father was indeed an icon who, through his selflessness and extreme love, made sure that we had a better life than him. I do not remember even once that he prioritised himself over us. The discipline, pride, and empathy which he instilled in us from our childhood helped us through the fabric of time. We cannot thank him enough.
From the moment one is born, one looks up to see his father’s face, until the time one does not outgrow him in height. After that, one still looks up to the person, knowing fully well what he means. But the saddest moment possible is when one has to look down into the grave where the love of your life, your pride, your shelter, your entire universe, your best friend, your most selfless person, lies in the womb of Mother Earth, and you will never see him again.
My dear friends, cherish them while you can, hold their hands, listen to their stories, love them infinitely, because that moment when you say goodbye forever is the most difficult one of all.
Rest in peace, Abboo Jaan. May Allah bless you and all fathers with the highest pedestal in Jannat. Ameen.