one of the earliest memories I often revere is one being indulged in a labyrinth of stories which my grandfather effortlessly spun as I listened enthralled and with adulation. personal experiences of a time when history was practically being made, my grandfather had treasured many incidents to be shared and I was fortunate to have been an avid listener.
Surrounded by books and full of enthusiastic recollection of historic events was the norm of his daily life. With a commanding voice and alert disposition, he had remained true to his soldier training. In an era of no Internet summer holidays in Pakistan held the exciting prospect of afternoons spent at the Army Central Library in Rawalpindi. In the sweltering heat, the air-conditioned floors filled with rows and rows of books were a peaceful sanctuary. As I often accompanied Dadajaan to the library, I was introduced to military strategies, historic heroes of war and archives of Islamic conquests; of course, his narration of all was so interesting that the listener enjoyed these lessons in history.
Until very recently I had failed to realize that many attributes that I had imagined to be Common and universal were actually rare. unflinching patriotism in the face of any adversity is not inherent as i had thought, this has been a quality that is unique to a few; Dadajaan of course had been one of those lucky individuals who had lived through the worst of times to proclaim the greatness of Pakistan.
As a young officer in Burma when he came “home” in 1947 he remained loyal to his land through the major wars and then with his words. Being able to pen experiences of this unique transition and struggle is again a scarce combination.
All his eventful life he had asseverated the importance of patriotism making it a sacrosanct emotion for me. Luckily, in addition to patriotism, the passion for reading and writing has trickled down to me, though I feel this was no accident. Many afternoons spent in his study were filled with encouragement to write. Even the most trivial of ideas were cheered and urged to pen it down.
With his winsome actions (often perturbed my dear grandmother) and typical British humor, he managed to coax and exhort an article or two every summer. When I had my first story published in Young Times at fourteen his eyes had gleamed with pride. A special bond developed as now I also was getting work published regularly; a sort of remuneration to that had eventuated. Needless to say, my dedication and commitment to writing mannered and the frequency varied with other life commitments. For Dada, this was a disappointment.
Life’s lessons from Dadajaan are of paramount importance for me. Living up to his probity is not easy, albeit one can try. Simplicity had been a fundamental aspect of his life. Since you learn only after you have endured, when the realization of self- inflicted complication dawned, I again looked towards Dadajaan. His simple lifestyle with no qualms for luxury was an eye-opener. How he had cherished and focused on moments spent with his grandchildren rather than searching for happiness in material success had been his secret to a long and healthy life; simple eating, simple living, and finding pleasure in unpretentiousness. He never ventured towards luxury and ostentatious display, his wealth had always been his unique experiences of battleground, his knowledge, and his words.
Every time I hear the national anthem, my faith in Pakistan and pride for my military was nurtured every year and was firmly rooted through years and years of my grandfather’s reminisces of the independence struggle, war experiences, and extreme belief in the greatness of our country. Over the last year, I had seen his health deteriorate. The upright soldier with the booming commanding voice and a charming disposition had become frail and made an extra effort to speak. His eyes still twinkled at the sight of his favorite books and he inquired about my latest writing. “I’m 94 now,” he beamed and recited “Shikwa Jawab-e-Shikwa” with precision. “Why don’t you plan a get together where everyone recites a poem, he had said excitedly the last time we met. I am trying to persuade my family to participate in this poetry recital with great enthusiasm. know he would have still managed to be the star of the show.
