The line caught his attention
In front of him, a young student sat on a seat, sifting through the pages of a worn-out paperback
He stood adjacent to the boy’s seat, clutching on to his satchel with one hand, while the other firmly wrapped around the holding rail
It was around evening time and he was commuting back home from work
This travel was nothing new for him
For 25 years he had worked as a bookkeeper and every day, he would wake up at 5:30am without the aid of a clock to get to work
He would slip out of bed, careful not to wake up his wife, and make himself a cup of tea
An hour later, he would walk to the bus stand and wait for his bus
That particular day, he had missed his bus in the morning
The next one to arrive was overflowing with passengers
He tried to hop on, but his back would not allow it
Being 64-years of age, he was not as flexible as required to catch the bus in Karachi
He opened his wallet and counted the bills within
Reluctantly, he had to settle for a rickshaw
But now, he had managed to leave work on time and he boarded his regular bus for his home
Through experience, he had learned to occupy his mind during his daily commute
It helped alleviate the pain in his back, and kept his mind off of the distance to be covered
The public buses were particularly slow, and it was difficult to find a seat during the rush hour
He had seen most of these faces during his previous commutes
The boy was reading a book, seemingly oblivious to the old man standing right beside him
He was comfortable in his seat, and had no intention of giving it up
It was easy to assuage his guilt by burying himself in a book
The bus took a sharp turn from NIPA Chowrangi, jolting and rattling as gravel crunched underneath its tires
As he got off, the old man heaved a sigh of relief
His legs had numbed from standing in a cramped position
Taking a respite to regain his composure, he trudged off in to the distance, cutting through a short alley and entering his apartment complex
Strength seemed to leave his body with every step he took
At such times, the only thought that kept him going was that of his wife and his son
She had been waiting for him for half an hour
He was late
“It must be the bus,” she thought
However, her worry was short-lived
The key turned in the lock and she heard the familiar click-clack of moccasins on the tiled floor
He was drenched in sweat, and his chest was heaving as he struggled for breath
She maintained her distance
He gave a slight smile and nodded to his wife
It had been 37 years since they were married and even today, she could see the same glint in his eyes as she did back then
It was something she took immense pride in
Without uttering another word, he proceeded to loosen his tie and went off in to the bedroom
She got up from her seat and headed for the kitchen
Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the room after freshening up and the two sat down to discuss the day’s events
“Ali kahan hai? Subha mulaqat nahin huwi meri us say,” he said
(Where’s Ali? I didn’t get to meet him today) “Haan, woh puri raat bahar tha
Usko promotion mil gayi hai centre mei
He now manages 20 other employees in the call centre
Toh, aaj ke din he had to stay late
Aap chale jaate hain jaldi
Woh wapis hi nau bajay aaya tha
Aaj university bhi nai gaya
Abhi tuition parhanay gaya huwa hai” she replied
(He was out the whole night
He got promoted at work; hence, he now manages 20 other employees at the call centre
You leave early, because of which you missed him
He returned at nine in the morning
He didn’t even go to his university today
He’s out to give tuitions right now
) “University se yaad aaya, maine uski fees pay kardi hai
Subha bus choot gayei thi, toh mujhe rickshaw laina parha
Bank kareeb hi tha, toh mai wahin utar gaya tha
Account mei ab Rs980 parhe hain
Ajeeb baat hai, 65 saal ke hogaye aur thodi si bhi saving na hosaki
” (University reminds me; I managed to pay his fees
I missed the bus in the morning, so I had to settle for a rickshaw
The bank was nearby, so I got off at the branch
The account now has Rs980
It is perplexing that, even at 65-years of age, we don’t have any savings
) He took a deep breath, as reality began to sink in
His words hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity
“Aap pareshan na hoyein
Humaari kamaayi Ali hai
Yeh uska last semester hai
Yeh aapki mehnat ki wajah se hua hai sirf
Kal ko humara baita aik bara admi bannay ga
Karachi ki subse barhi university se parha hai usne
Ali hi humaari saving hai
Aaj hum sub ke saamne fakhr se kharhe hosakte hain
Khud sochein
Aap itni mehnat kiske liye karte hain? Humne itni mushkil kiske liye uthaayi hai? Khuda ka shukar hai ke woh samajhta bhi hai yeh sub
Warna aaj kal ke bachay toh
” (You must not worry
Ali is our wealth
This is his last semester and we have made it this far because of your hard work
In future, he will be a successful man
He studies in one of the most prestigious universities in Karachi
He is far better than any savings account
We can stand with our head held high
Think about it, for whom did you work so hard? For whom did we bear such hardships? Thank God that he understands our struggles, otherwise you know how children are today
) “Phir bhi
Khair, yeh kya baat hai karne wali
Yeh batao halaat kaise hain?” (Anyway, why are we pondering over bygones? Tell me, how’s the condition in the city?) “Karachi hai
TV pe dekhte hain,” she replied
(It’s Karachi
Lets watch the TV) The two got off their seats, and headed for the lounge
The TV took a few seconds to switch on
The old CRT screen was about to give way, as was evident with the distorted colours on the screen
He thumped the side of the television, and the colours brightened and the TV spurted to life
The old cane sofa creaked under their weight as they sat on it
It, too, was on its last legs
Subconsciously, he changed the channels until he found the news
The news anchor was talking about Pakistan’s progress in to the World Cup
There was no ticker running at the bottom of the screen
“Shukar hai
Sheher mei sukoon hai
Ali ne kia kaha tha kab tak wapis aayega?” he asked, his eyes focused on the screen
(Thank God, the city is peaceful
Did Ali give any time for his return?) “Aap ko pata hai uska tuition kaafi dur hai
Aajaye ga, pareshan na hoyein,” she replied
(You know his tuition is quite far
He’ll be back, don’t you worry)
He nodded in silence as he continued to flip channels, lowering the sound of the TV in the process
The silence was broken by the shrill ring of the mobile phone
The old man realised that he had left his phone on the table
He gestured his wife to wait, as he got up and headed in the other room
It was an unknown number
He received the call and put the phone to his ear
“Hello?” “Jee aap ka baita Ali hai?” (Is Ali your son?) The voice on the other side was distraught with fear and panic
“Jee bilkul
Kiya hua?” (Yes
What happened?) He immediately straightened up
He could feel his heart beat rising in his chest
“Uncle aap Abbasi Shaheed Hospital aasakte hain? Aap kay baite ko goli laggai hai
” (Can you come to Abbasi Shaheed Hospital? Your son has been shot
) The line went dead
For a second, the old man was in a daze
What had just happened? Who was this man? He called the number again, but the phone was off
He gathered his wallet and house keys, and turned to his wife
“Chalo mere saath
” (Come with me
) After a brief exchange, the two left the house as fast as their ageing legs could carry them to discover the fate of their only child
In their haste, they had forgotten to turn off the television
The news channel was still on
“Breaking news: We are hearing reports of a firing in Nazimabad
One casualty has been reported so far
The victim is a 24-year-old university student whose identity has not been confirmed as yet
Eyewitness accounts state that he was caught in a shootout between two rival gangs
We will provide you with more updates as and when we receive them
” March 20th 2015: In Memoriam “My son was not affiliated with any political party
He had no personal enmities that we knew of
He was everything I had
These hands raised him with love and care
I taught him how to walk and talk
I saw him grow before my eyes
He was the light of my eyes
I have tried my hand at writing a diary, and I have failed miserably
Today marks his third death anniversary
This is a father’s tribute to his slain son
This is the voice of a broken man
We have developed a close bond with pain
Every day, it reminds us that we are still alive
It tells us that we still feel
Ali is, and will always be my hero
He was the realisation of my dreams
He was a cherished son, a loving man and a devoted student
He was a man with goodness in his heart
My son was wronged
I do not seek vengeance
I do not seek closure
Three-years-ago, I lost everything I had
While I pray that nobody gets to feel what I feel every day, I know that is not possible
How does a father explain what his son meant to him? Man has not created a language powerful enough to express such emotions
I do not know what he did wrong
I do not know our fault
All I know is that somewhere in the heavens above, angels cried the day my child was murdered
” The old man closed his diary for the last time
The room went dark
| Date: | 15-Apr-2015 | Reference: | View Original Link |
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