February 23rd, 2006

Mom left us in this world to depart for her eternal abode exactly 14 years ago today. Just about a few minutes ago, Nammo Aapaa reminded me of her death anniversary.

So much has happened since then. Nazim Bhai, Tariq Ibrahim, Khala Shaukat, Aunty Asif, Iqbal Mamoo, Zaheer Mamoo, and list goes on and on, are not in this world any more.

In fact, I am also in self exile. Away from my own blood, children, sisters, cousins, and most of all my country right or wrong.

Ammi was a terrific person. Still when I talk to my friends like Mian Naeem or Tayyab Bokhari on phone here some times, most of our discussion turns to Ammi’s friendly and affectionate nature. She helped so many. Whether he was the father of our house construction contractor, or my friend Athar Naeem, she would always be willing to drive miles and miles to either go to Lahore Secretariat or to the old passport house to help facilitating the obtainment of the passport to someone. Hundreds of people took the benefit. She would never complain while helping anybody. In fact, she would feel happy to do that. Most of the times, she succeeded in completing person’s task. After one’s task was completed, her face will glow with genuine happiness. Most people came to meet her for their sisters’, daughters’ nieces’, and cousins’ admissions in Government Girls Colleges. Migrations, transfers, postings, Haj applications, account settlements, were some of her favorite occupations that would materialize due to her help.

I remember vividly the number of visitors that would come to our house at Lahore. Most of the times their visit was for some task they needed help and some times, it was courtesy calls. Now as a half centurion myself, when I compare the people who come to call upon me and my family with those of Ammi’s, I feel Ammi was totally a different person. How did she handle all these visitors? It really amazes me.

She would teach, attended seminars and lectures, gave lectures, went to Data Sahib regularly, sat near the feet of the greatest poets and writers like Soofi Tabassum and Ashfaaq Ahmed, would know most intellectuals personally and in most cases on first name bases, and would attend Meelaads besides being involved in multitude of activities.

If you remember her meeting with Iqbal Bano, the famous singer the first time, it happened in a Meelaad. I remember Ammi telling me how she found one of the invitees at someone’s Meelad very melodious. The way she was, she could not resist but asking this melodious lady who she was? Iqbal Bano was quiet taken aback but told Ammi shyly her name. After that I saw Iqbal Bano at our house many a times. One day while I was relaxing in my room at the old 28 C, GOR 3 residence, Iqbal Bano dropped by and left us a big pot of cooked rice and meat. Iqbal Bano promised Ammi that she would sing at my (no where to be seen then) wedding ceremony for free. She kept her promise.

Malika Tarannum Noor Jahan was also quite impressed by Ammi’s usual way of talking. To some, these usual, everyday talks seemed dialogues from the screen play of an art movie. To some it was like listening to the masters of Urdu Language. Extremely eloquent and fluent with her immense knowledge of etymological roots of the words driven from Farsi, Arabic, and some times, Sanskrit made her a person of tremendous respects and awe. Especially settled in the heart of Panjabi capital where a majority of her interaction was with Panjabi speaking people, she would never be sarcastic or anything on their different way of accented speaking. As a matter of fact, most people she talked to, tried to learn from her in every sitting. Correct pronunciation, grammar, or just historical roots of a certain word, on most subjects she would talk with authority and command in such a fluent and yet interesting way that even the people who were not the target audience would leave every thing what they were doing and would listen to her. Her creativity in her spoken words was so astounding that literally I witnessed miracles happening. The most rude and strict bureaucrat would melt under her spell of magical similes and flowery speech. The pedagogues and the scholars would be spell bounded before her. The rudest of all would forget about their pride, the grief-stricken would forget about their grief, the children would stop crying and the self-conscious youngsters would be transfixed and would not think about themselves while she was talking.

Ammi had a terrible anger though. But her speech pattern in her anger (no matter how abusive it was) remained creative even in her anger. I have yet to hear the kind of creative abuses she would utter. Her glowing face would become red with anger and her fiery speech would literally torch the person she was angry with. My dad always dreaded her anger.

No matter how terrible her anger was, now that she is gone, I even miss her anger, her abuses, and her fiery speech.

A real lady of substance she was. Emotional, independent, caring, humorous, affectionate, extremely sincere, trustworthy, loyal, honest, a person of values and true morals, a staunch believer, a powerful lady, a person of true mettle and grit, a strong person, a great supporter of the country and its founding fathers, an extremely affectionate mother, a loyal wife, a person of integrity and honesty, an excellent orator, a favorite teacher, a trusted friend, a good friend indeed, a person of many dimensions. What a lady!

On this twenty-third day of February, she passed away in Pajnab Cardiovascular Hospital. Her time of death is around 1 P.M. In the night earlier, while she was painfully struggling to choose between the mundane world verses the eternal one, she called me to bring my ears close to her lips that I immediately did. She said, “take care of your sisters”, I choked with emotions. What did I say I don’t remember.

Iranian Cultural Center sponsored a scholarship after her name. Lahore College for Women, the college she was associated with for almost 26 years, started giving Nafisa Athar Gold Medal every year to her best student in Persian literature.

Once I met one of her old students who then taught at the same old Lahore College. She talked like Ammi and looked like Ammi. I told her that. She said that every day she deliberately and consciously made an effort to remember our mother, Mrs. Athar.

Fourteen years have passed since she departed. Her memories are still fresh in my mind. Had it not been because of the affection, love, and care of Munnie, I would be a devastated wreck without Ammi--- who was my shelter, my support, my guide, my teacher, my trusted confidant, my dear dear Ammi.

Ammi, if you hear me, please forgive me for not listening to you at times, for saying things that hurt you and I did not mean, for being a spoiled child, for not keeping up to your expectations. Sorry Ammi, I could not become a judge, a doctor as you once thought or not even an engineer. But Ammi, I have become a better person. In my middle age, I try practicing the ethics and the values you taught me. I do not have a huge circle of friends like you did. As a matter of fact, I have very few now. I don’t have the capacity or the ability to help hundreds and hundreds of people the way you did. But I try. Ammi I know you still watch me and pray for me. That is why I still come out of the problems I create. Ammi I love you. Do you listen to me Ammi? I love you…