{"id":1032,"date":"2018-08-19T02:49:53","date_gmt":"2018-08-19T02:49:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/themeanderingpath.com\/home\/?p=1032"},"modified":"2018-11-19T19:01:26","modified_gmt":"2018-11-19T19:01:26","slug":"happy-80th-abbu","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themeanderingpath.com\/home\/index.php\/2018\/08\/19\/happy-80th-abbu\/","title":{"rendered":"Happy 80th, Abbu!"},"content":{"rendered":"

A Birthday Tribute!<\/strong>\"\"<\/h1>\n

As I got into the car the other day, ready to drop the kids for school, Taimoor reached for the radio station even before he was completely seated. I was transported to 3 decades earlier, when this would be a norm for me. I must say my father was way more patient with me than I am with the boys. Think about it. It was the age of the cassette tape. There was no such luxury as the touch of a button and instant gratification. You had to manually hold down the rewind\/fast forward button to get to your desired spot. Thinking about those times, I feel lucky that my father loved listening to music ( and still does!). He also has a melodious voice. When he\u2019s in the mood and starts singing a few lines from some of his favorite songs, you keep wanting to hear more. His flute-laying skills are also pretty neat. Unfortunately, I did not inherit the singing gene! Even before I could sit up front, my fondest memory is riding in the backseat with him at the wheel, with the music playing. Kishore Kumar or Lata would usually be on. As my tastes started changing, Abbu started adapting and changing his preferences. Instead of shutting my music down, he was now listening to pop, hiphop, and \u2018newer songs\u2019. He would even tolerate Michael Jackson and hard rock for my sake!<\/p>\n

If music is one of my father\u2019s first loves (he fondly tells us how memorizing Hindi film songs was his saving grace in sitting for his Urdu exams!), his other great love is his car. I don\u2019t mean that he is a car collector. He never opted for fancy cars. His priority was always spending on the children first, so I\u2019m sure he sacrificed his wishes for a luxury car for us. But if you ever sit in his car, it will be spotless, dustless, immaculate\u2013 inside and out. Every Sunday morning, the household helper is required to do a thorough carwash, followed by a full inspection by Abbu personally. This is done religiously. And if there is no help around, Abbu breaks out his shorts, gets the hose and bucket, and does it himself. Mind you, this is in a country where appearances matter most, where people will boast of material wealth and number of servants, etc. Lt.Col Jamal \u2013 washing his own car? This gene of \u201c no-shame-in-doing-your-own-work\u201d I have thankfully inherited, and has come in really useful here in a country where there is no choice BUT to do it yourself. In fact, when I first started bugging my father to teach me how to drive a car, he pointed to the bucket. My primary lesson in driving was to actually clean the car first. I feel I\u2019m slacking bigtime in this area now. Whenever Abbu is planning to visit, the first order of business is to clean the car inside and out. I think I\u2019ve been able to dupe him into believing it always stays that way \ud83d\ude0a\"\"<\/p>\n

Speaking of duping, I must shamefully admit that I\u2019ve taken advantage of my father\u2019s good will on more than one occasion. Growing up, one of my chores was a nightly back scratch for him. I didn\u2019t care for it much, and soon discovered if I would yawn really loudly and in quick succession, I could fake tiredness. Inevitably, Abbu\u2019s response would be \u201c Jao beta, so jao!\u201d (Go sleep, your tired!) I\u2019m being punished now for that deception. As it turns out both my husband and my son, Haaris, demand a backscratch EVERY night!<\/p>\n

My father and I share other traits, too. For example, we are both fond of travelling. My father, even at 79, planned and executed an entire trip to Turkey with my mother. He\u2019s enjoying his retirement fully, going to places he\u2019s wanted to go for a long time such as, Sri Lanka, Thailand and Malaysia. In fact, he lovingly says that I should have been born with an odometer on my feet, because my birth brought about a lot of international travel for my parents. His army days ensured he travelled to different locations for work, but now he takes a more leisurely approach to exploring new places. I\u2019m realizing I\u2019m more like him now than I ever was. As much as Abbu loves to venture out, he doesn\u2019t really enjoy socializing. This might seem strange to someone who has met him because he is very friendly, sociable, and can easily carry on a conversation with almost anyone. However, his heart is in the outdoors. I am much like him in this regard. There is no love loss in canceling a party or a dinner invite, but an opportunity to go out and explore, should never be wasted!<\/p>\n

The thing about genes is, you get the good and the bad. My father\u2019s anger is legendary, and anyone who has been on the receiving end of it will tell you he will not mince words. However, it is also short lived and sooner than later, he comes around. Perhaps at times he has met his match with me where we have both stood our ground, unrelenting \u2013 only for him to give in \u2013 only out of love. The testament to our strong bond is that although we may disagree on many things, love is the common ground for both of us. For a daughter, there is no greater feeling than knowing when all else is lost, her father will be there to make it right. And Abbu has always been there for me! I have never seen him cry, except on my Rukhsati. If you watch my wedding video this will be even more apparent as it focuses on me sitting in the car smiling. But cameras can be deceiving. I\u2019ve never been a public crier (crying alone is much more cathartic), and behind that smile has always been a bittersweet longing for one more hug, one more goodbye.\"\" \"\" \"\"<\/p>\n

Enough of the sappy, sad stuff! Let\u2019s talk sports! If you truly want to enjoy a game of cricket or tennis, you need to watch it my dad. His loud exclamations and running commentary has even gotten my mother hooked on to these sports. I was a bit of an afterthought for my parents, coming after almost 16 years of marriage. In his younger days, Abbu was a hockey, tennis, squash, table tennis and badminton enthusiast. However, even older age didn\u2019t deter my father from my athletic training. I still remember our volleys on the badminton court, where I\u2019d do all the running while his standing orders were to direct the birdie directly at him! His training rings in my ears now, as I shout out the same directions to Haaris, who is our budding badminton aficionado!\"\"<\/p>\n

My father and I both share a love for photography. In fact, in his youth, he had a fully operational dark room of his own. I would love to learn that craft from him and make my own prints the old school way! However, these days it is a role reversal for us \u2013 me with my heavy duty DSLR, and him with a point and shoot! The love of a good picture still a constant between us.<\/p>\n

\"\"
With his grandchildren \u2013 missing Nadir<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Abbu, you have been one of my favorite storytellers. My first childhood stories of Sher Khan, the lIon, came from you. (I believe you even typed out the story especially for me in that famous typewriter of yours!) Both you and Ammi have shared so many stories of your childhoods and other memories, that it seems we were actually living through it. My favorite is the elephant ride you took Ammi on for your honeymoon in the tea gardens. Other favorites include your war stories, and that very famous Vespa with mom riding in her sari in the back. Or the cold Abbottabad walks. Best of all, are the dog diaries \u2013 all kinds of dog pets over the years and their many escapades! Thank you for sharing these parts of your life with us because they have truly enriched us. I still marvel at your parenting skills. I mean after all, you turned out three exceptional, well-turned-out kids \ud83d\ude09!<\/p>\n

Eighty years \u2013 a lifetime, or just a blink in Time\u2019s vast continuum? Its been 29,200 days, 700,800 hours, and 42,048,000 minutes to be exact from the day, Abbu, you took your first breath, to today as you cut your 80th cake. You were born on a Friday, which would have been cause for extra celebration in a Muslim household. I feel you must have been an adventurous child, ready to explore and push boundaries. Did you know then that you would cultivate such an art for helping others through medicine? Probably not, but what an amazing life you have led! Curing others, easing their pain, fighting for your country. Not all of it has been happy. Leaving behind family with a country divided must have been an extremely difficult decision. All that you have achieved has been on your own will and determination. We are so very proud of you!\"\"<\/p>\n

Over the years, feelings of gratitude and love get expressed in hallmark cards, telephone calls, or more recently, Facetime. Letter writing has been dead for a while now, but frankly there is no substitute for the power of the written word. I hope this blog post makes up for some of that lost time. Happy 80th, Abbu! May the coming years be blissful, healthy and peaceful for you.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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