He was a jet pilot in the Pakistan Air Force (part of 0.0004% of the Pakistan population). He was thus unique… very unique as a citizen of Pakistan. He was a combination of toughness and kindness; he had a booming voice; he hardly ever complained about his own pains or health; he was always careful not to put others at dis-ease. He was a great friend to all, and thus a wide number of family and friends missed him when he left this world on 23rd May, 2026.
In his demise are to be found lessons for all left to mourn and deal with the loss,
Stillness
Your stillness is most troublesome. Your silence accompanies this stillness, and is very worrisome… these features that you now embody are not you.
Wrapped Up
On the night of 23rd May, we got two messages. One said you had a cardiac attack, the other said you were gone. Your three siblings rushed to the hospital.
We reached the ICU where we had left you. We bolted up, and you were being wrapped in crisp white sheets. We could not see your face. We were stunned.
In an ambulance, you were taken to the mortuary. They took you out of the ambulance and placed you in a long drawer.
One night and day, you were there, all wrapped in a drawer. (I had seen a cousin in a drawer in the same place some years ago.)
On the morning of 25th May, I saw you again, wrapped in white after the ghusal. This was the last wrapping of you. Eventually, you were laid out in a grave. I saw you laid out in the grave as I said my goodbye...
You are not alone
You are now with them the way you were with them... full of affection and advice. You are happy with them… all those who have left us… all must be so happy to meet you now that you are free of the lingering pains of walking… even as you were shuffling more and more, your enthusiasm for others remained… for that is you.
If alive, he would have grinned at the distinction between theory and practice of death. Now the practice of death belongs to him, and he knows best what it means
Watching TV
You watched TV from morning till night... in the day, you would laugh at Western comedy serials or seriously watch films you had seen earlier... in the evening, the Geo plays came... You would switch to other channels only for your niece’s plays... You loved watching them... This was part of your typical day... day after day, you watched.
You had started to slouch while watching TV, but it had escaped my notice until the physiotherapist, in his crisp, khaki voice, asked why you were slouching. “Sit straight,” he had commanded, and you listened and sat up... but you did not like him, it seems, and you declared that he was not needed. Apa managed to convince you... The physio was also asked to take it easy. He was also the one who said you needed to be on antibiotics for the blisters in your lower legs…
Lumbering and not walking
In the last few months, you lumbered more than you walked... during Ramzan this year, you lumbered to the dining room for sehri and iftar... after Ramzan, you said one day it is very painful to walk from the toilet to the lounge. The toilet in your room meant some extra steps to take.
This must have been so tough for you, but you hardly complained... getting into the car for a visit to the doctor was an ordeal. You were helped by your assistant. You groaned a bit but never complained of pain... your machoness was you... and good for us... but we miss you.
What eventually got to you?
Was it the pneumonia that was being treated from 2nd May, and your second X-ray showed you were improving? I feel the blisters in your feet, and the dripping of your feet opened the door to your demise. I am glad we took you to the dermatologist, and he advised hospitalisation. Your physio had also said you should be given antibiotics for your feet.
Trip to the Graveyard
Last week, when I went to the graveyard, I took three kilos of rose petals, and we covered your grave, and it looked very peaceful. Does it make a difference to you? Not much, I think, for inside is your territory, which is quite kushada. Amma and Nusrat are there, and Bawa has come, and also Suraya Khala and Daami and Khala Amma... as people arrive, your space expands until it is a big courtyard with people coming in droves... You are happy to see them... you smile and laugh, and your booming voice greets them... lovely... so what of our rose petals on top? I think you are happy as it gives sukoon to us... You are pain-free and young... good to know.
The theory and practice of death are worlds apart. When a dear one departs to the other world, the theory of death comes forth in great volume — we all die (as if this is a solace); it is God’s will (yes… the ultimate answer); you must miss him sooooo much (true). There is more, but this is all theory, for the practice of missing the one gone is difficult to describe. Perhaps it is impossible to describe. The empirical reality is lost for words. So tears and gloom greet the theory genuinely offered as a condolence.
The dhobi had asked: " How is Sahab? When told he was no more, he stood in shock and silence, and then lifted his hands up and out poured a long recitation of Arabic verse and duas. This was his way of dealing with the blow, and it sounded very soothing. This was perhaps a mix of theory and practice. If alive, he would have grinned at the distinction between theory and practice of death. Now the practice of death belongs to him, and he knows best what it means.