I am walking on the riverbank of River Jhelum, it’s a beautiful journey with lush green surrounding, flowers blossoming and chattering birds all around under the blue skies, few clouds floating, and some are kissing the mountains of Kashmir and nearby salt range, my feelings are somewhat like scars after healed wounds, it’s beautiful and satisfying moments yet feel pain so it is dangerous and irritated too!
In my earliest childhood memories, one night we were returning home after visiting our grandma. Overlooking my father’s shoulder while walking through the dark alley I observed that some black shadows were chasing us. My mother was walking with a lantern ahead of us. Since I was in the safe hands of my father I dared to glance at those shadows with intervals. My heart palpitation grew with fear.
During those days men lead family members during daytime as protectors. While outside at night they used to walk behind controlling any possibility of danger emerging from darkness. Strangely, upon reaching home I found that those dark shadows had gone. I felt the value of the clutches of my father and lit the leadership of my mother and being at home. But being a child, I never talked with anyone about the creature in the darkness.
I was born in a Kashmiri family that migrated to the plains of Punjab as my father’s grandpa was posted at the Combined Military Hospital, Jhelum, during the British era and started living in a nearby village called Saeela.
My mother hailed from the Rajput Bhatti family which has seen financial and business fall after partition and wrong moves made by my maternal great grandpa. Her family had dining contracts in Indian railways and had owned houses/Hawailis in many cities next to many railway stations. Usually when I talk of their rise and fall, I think of the Mughals in Burma. However, royalty was obvious through the characters and behaviors. No doubt they lost business but had big Hawaili and one day a beggar knocked on their door for food. He was made to sit properly, and a lot of food was presented. That beggar actually was a thief who came to break into houses, and he chose that day. He thought of large wealth while eating at their Hawaili so he came in the night but was chased and caught by my uncle and maternal grandpa alone with a great hide and seek in fields outside.
When he was brought to the light, they found him as the person who begged and ate food at their Hawaili although he was slapped by every man of the vicinity my uncle never misbehaved and tried to save him from the angry crowd. Later he was handed over to police with respect but while leaving that place, he embarrassed my uncle calling him “brave brother” and thanked him for his protection. While leaving he begged pardon from my grandpa and the family.
After the death of my great grandpa although his sons and grandsons including my father also went to the Army. My father was sent to the Army at the age of 16 years. However, that time the brilliant, intelligent handsome teenager longed for studies but was sent to the Army against his will. Due to the conflicts within the family, he was told that if he was interested, he had to earn money to study. He joined the Engineering corps and showed his talent but mentally was not satisfied and he wished to grow in life. He was blessed with a real growth mindset.
During discussion in his life once he expressed his aspirations that he never wanted to have similar conflicts in his own immediate family. He wanted to educate his children to rise in life, so he left the services at a very early stage after the 1965 Pak-Indo war. He started working as a truck driver based on his experience but always told his family members that he wanted to go abroad to earn a better living.
On the day of my parents’ marriage floods (called kang) badly hit the area. Hardships grown with the time for the newlywed couple. According to my late mother they were separated from the family and the early days were miserable when my father lost his job. During his unemployment both husband and wife bonding grew to fight their way and my mother encouraged and supported my father to fulfill his aspirations. I was once told that 10 days after their marriage they cooked curry from the animal feed.
Whenever I thought of their tough days, I imagined perhaps those black shadows were chasing them before my arrival in this world. Yes, those shadows from the dark alley.
Then this loving couple started working on their life plans and my father got another job, my mother started stitching clothes to earn a living. By the time my sister Yasmeen also joined the family. Those were the days when evening discussions between my father, mother and grandmother were held for hours. With tiny brains we never realized the purpose of the conversations. They planned his journey to Dubai and one late night while we were sleeping, he kissed my cheeks and I heard his heartfelt grieving voice, “Son, May Allah be with you I am leaving you in search of a better future. Let fate be the Throne or Coffin.” I still can hear his manly voice filled with vigor and promise. I woke up and found some other people, as one of his companions, uncle Khan Zaman and his family members were also present at our home. Later I heard that their brave wives had gone to the local railway station to see them off. They planned to go to Dubai via Iran as they began their journey that night.
When father had set off, those black shadows came back again. I used to see them chasing me on my way back home from my maternal grandmother. A new pain, struggle and hard days started for the family as we lost contact with our father while he was in Iran. He along with his companion were cheated by an agent who took their money and passport from them to take them to their destination. But misery started when they were caught by the police and kept in jail. They had visited the agent but by then he had disappeared with their money and documents.
My mother was a strong and resilient woman. She worked hard to provide for us, and she never gave up hope. She taught us the importance of courage, determination, and self-reliance. I learned that the black shadows that I saw were not real. They were a manifestation of my fear and anxiety. But even though they weren’t real, they still had a powerful impact on me. They taught me that fear can be a powerful motivator, but it can also be destructive.
I also learned that family is the most important thing in the world. My mother’s strength and determination inspired me, and her love gave me the courage to face my fears. I am grateful for the lessons that I learned from my childhood, and I am determined to pass them on to our children.
Back home, life was getting tougher. To make ends meet, my mother started collecting wood from the Jhelum riverbed along with stitching clothes for people. Traditionally, during difficult times, families would arrange Quran khawani (recitation of the Quran) to seek Allah’s blessings. I never saw my mother sitting idle at home during those times. She was praying, reciting, and teaching the Quran. She would finish the holy Quran in two to three days. She would hold evening classes for illiterate or adult women. She would also read Islamic and motivational books for them.
Those were the days when those black shadows started appearing from the top of our roof and house walls. Perhaps one reason was when the women would ask about my father’s news and in response, my mother would request prayers and say in Punjabi language, “Ohdiya’n O Janey or in Arabic الله أعلم Allahu ‘alam, literally Allah knows best. While they would recite books like The Holy Quran, “Hadiths, Qasus Ambiya, Shah nama-e-Karbala, Paki Roti,” and “Saif El Malouk,” my mother’s voice was popular for recitation, Naat, and Nasheed. My late elder Uncle Saleem brought her the book “Saif El Malouk” at her request when she was in class two.
But my mother was a true believer and faithful lady. She knew that Allah was with her, and she trusted in His plan. She continued to pray and recite the Quran, and she continued to teach and inspire others. She was a beacon of light in a dark time, and she showed us that even during hardship, there is always hope.
The books that the women would recite were filled with emotions of sacrifices, love, separation, and desire to meet. During those sessions, the women would cry, and I would often weep while lying on my bed. But during that time, my anxiety would grow further when I looked towards the roof and the walls. Clouds in the sky on moonlit nights and utensils would appear with different faces and forms. Sometimes I thought someone was staring at me from the walls or from the sky, and I would hide my face in the sheets to avoid them. But yes, they would vanish and reappear again. On occasions, I was so afraid, but I never shared it with anyone since my father was not there to clutch me in his protective arms. My mother was already struggling and fighting with tough situations.
One day, I decided to help my mother by selling chickpeas in her absence when she was away on an expedition collecting wood. I collected money from different utensils as she used to keep and bought chickpeas and boiled them. I was possibly in class one when I went to sell the goods and sat on CMH Road. Some customers had come, but they returned with the complaint that the chickpeas were not properly cooked. On that day, my emotions were hurt a lot as a son wanted to help his mother but got discouraged. That was the day when I realized that those black shadows were chasing us but were not visible during the daylight.
Perhaps those black shadows were a reminder of the power of the subconscious mind and the importance of facing our fears. But now I was not afraid. I knew that I had to be daring and strong for my mother and the family to represent my father for all affairs, and I trusted in Allah’s plan. I continued to help my mother in whatever way I could, and I never gave up hope.
When my mother came home, I told her about my failed attempt to sell the chickpeas. She told me to focus on my studies as she had promised my father. She always told me to leave the rest of the affairs for her to handle. I used to wonder if they were not able to see those shadows that I had been seeing for quite some time.
Those were the days when we were supported by our late nana g, maternal grandfather, after retiring from the army, started a shop to support his daughter. Every evening in the darkness, he would come to our street and leave tea, sugar, ghee, and milk in an exhaust hole called “Aalaah,” calling my name. My mother would pick up and return the pottery. His character and love for my mother created a new faith in me because I started witnessing the affairs where no one knew how a father was taking care of his daughter in darkness. I started believing that if there are frightening black shadows, then there are angels as well with their light in the darkness.
When I came to understand with growing age, I realized that it was only my self-created fear that was following me in different forms. That self-created fear never allowed me to mingle with the street boys to play together. But on understanding, I decided to get rid of those black shadows. So instead of sitting on the threshold of the house watching the boys play, I started a friendship with the tiny fireflies or jugnu’s. My fear started diminishing as our friendship grew, and I still remember when I used to catch them, I started going farther away from my home. On days, I used to keep them in my pockets, glowing in the darkness.
Now I realized that the willpower of my mother and the tiny creature changed my life, and a new world opened to me. The new world of hard work, hope, looking beyond others, and never giving up under any circumstance.
While my father was trying to reach his destination, my mother was performing her duties honestly. One day, she was doing her embroidery work on a bed sheet, crafting red roses. A lady from her own village was passing by and she came and upon seeing a beautiful masterpiece, she asked my mother to whom that sheet belong and how much money was to be charged. My mother replied that she was preparing it for herself, but the lady never truly understood what she meant. Red roses represent sincere love and not just decoration. She taunted my mother, “Why work on a bed sheet when you do not even own a house?” My mother replied with a smile and respect that if the Almighty had gifted her with that bed sheet one day He will gift her with a good house as well. That was the belief and determination of a wife whose husband has had no contact with the family for the last 6-7 months.
She always taught us moral lessons, religious teachings, and to be brave enough to face difficulties. I still remember the harsh winter and rainy days when she used to keep us out in the courtyard under a raincoat with the fear that the room ceilings might collapse. During that time when people slept comfortably, this family fought its own battle. She instructed us to recite loudly ” kalima Tayyibah, لا اله الا الله محمد رسول الله There is no god but Allah, Muhammad is the messenger of Allah” while she went to repair the roofing with clay like a nurse bandaging cuts on a body. Whenever clouds thundered and lightning struck off in the distance, upon seeing her struggling in the harsh wind and rain, we used to call her to come down as it was too dangerous to be on the rooftop during those heavy rains.
But she would always say, “Don’t worry, I am here with you.” In response, she screamed at us, as we were told to recite Kalima loudly, but she could not hear our voices. That was the way to register our moments and difficulties to Allah Almighty and
asking for help and mercy. Those words gave us courage and strength. We knew that if Allah and our mother was with us, we could face anything.
Whenever she came down after nursing the home and sat with us, she used to act as a mother would, all loving and caring again. She taught us that she has done her duty and left the rest in Allah’s will. Even with the shivering cold body of hers and the cold rainy winter nights, she gave us warmth with her presence, teachings, and love.
She always smiled and taught us patience and told us that difficulties come in groups but go one by one. She taught us not to be afraid of any tough situation, but to learn to fight back with full vigor. Whenever we complained about the continued rains, she showed us the direction from where clouds were clearing the way and the silver lining was visible. She created the belief that hard times come to teach us lessons of life, and the bad things we dispel with our character, determination, and dua (prayers).
After a long time we celebrated the good news of our father’s safely reaching Dubai after nine months. One day, he shared the tale of his journey. He told us that he and his companion were imprisoned due to the lack of documents. On the day of his hearing, when the judge wanted them to be deported to Pakistan, my father got a chance to talk to the lawyer, who was a Persian-speaking Sikh. He communicated to him in Punjabi and told him not to deport them to Pakistan as they were traveling for Dubai. The lawyer supported the release of my father and his companion for a certain number of days and ordered him to leave Iran. He also told them about the point from where dhows used to pick people for Dubai via sea.
Finally, both reached that point and boarded a dhow without money and passport. Ali was the Master of the dhow, while collecting money from others, came to them and was promised that they would pay him upon reaching Dubai. Finally, they had landed in Dubai in 1967.
In the early days, he remained jobless and was worried about the family back home. His first Eid away from the family was approaching, and he was feeling helpless for not supporting his family for months. He told about a miracle that one day he went to a desert area close to his residence in despair. While he was there, a whirlpool started emerging, and he saw some currency notes flying in the air. The air pressure died down as it reached his sitting area. He went to see what had happened, and he was astonished to find three genuine 100 Riyal currency notes. He picked them up happily and came home, wondering what had happened.
He then went to the shop in his area and announced the money, asking for the owner. He sat there for three consecutive days to find the owner, and finally on the fourth day, he remitted the money to his family. He always referred to the acceptance of his prayers and Allah’s help in time. He always kept his spirit high to do something special. He was a very strong believer and determined person.
One day, I asked him what faith (Iman) was. He simply replied, “Above is Allah’s name, and below is the land of Muhammad peace be upon him.” Now I know what belief is and how Allah supports those who remember Him.
He had worked with the British Scouts as a tank mechanic, but he soon left because of the low salary. He had worked for the once famous Coston Tailor Wood Company for their Airport and Port Rashid projects. Later, he left the company and started his own transport business at Dubai Port Rashid. He worked hard day and night and made good fortune. During those days, he also worked as a photographer and was perhaps one of the earliest photographers in Dubai.
Like my mother, who used to remind us of our duties, my father used to share his thoughts that he had done his best to get rid of poverty, but now the baton was handed over to me and my brothers. He was a man of tough tone, but he was basically kind-hearted. Life is full of challenges, but when we set our sights on big goals, we are often tested the most. This was certainly the case with my parents.
One day, my father fell seriously ill, and we were left alone. My mother fought back again bravely, but she needed help. My late uncle Saleem was there for us, and he supported us both financially and morally. He would come to our house every evening after closing his shop, and he would spend two or three hours with my father, encouraging him to get better.
My parents were both deeply committed to our education. My father had never had the opportunity to go to higher school, and he was determined that his children would not make the same mistake. He told us that we had to get a minimum of a bachelor’s degree, and that if we didn’t, we would have to leave the family. Alhamdulillah, with the grace of Allah, we fulfilled his dreams. We all went to college, and we all graduated with bachelor’s and master’s degrees. My father was so proud of us, and he told us that we had made him very happy.
My father was a visionary man. He saw the importance of education, and he knew that it would give us the best chance in life. He was also a very generous man. He gave us everything we needed to succeed, and he never asked for anything in return.
My mother was a strict disciplinarian, but she was also a loving and caring woman. She never allowed us to stay away without her permission, and she monitored everything from our prayers to our studies. We were unable to sleep without completing our daily Quranic lessons and school studies. We have never seen her without a book while at home.
One day when I was in college and grown up, I went to the river to swim with the local boys, even though I knew that I was not allowed to do so. My mother found out, and she came to the river and took away my clothes. She called me out of the river water and slapped me on my face. She told me to walk home, and I was so embarrassed that I could barely look at her.
I walked home with my mother behind me, holding my clothes and shoes. I begged her for forgiveness, but she refused. She told me that she was responsible for everything that belonged to her husband during his absence, including her children.
When I got my degree results, I happily informed my mother. She reviewed my results and with a smile, she gave back the transcript. She told me that I was now a legally mature person and that I was allowed to go with my will. She would never ask me to stay again, as she had fulfilled her promise to my father.
I am grateful to my mother for her love and care. She taught me the Quran, Salaat, and other books, but she also shared her love more than my expectations. She encouraged me to write, paint, play, and take part in social welfare activities. She never returned anyone who came to her for help. She encouraged me to spend extra time teaching orphans and poor school children, which I did. Perhaps today’s blessings are because of those deeds.
The Quran says, “Only your good deeds will remain behind, nothing else.” I am grateful to my mother for teaching me the importance of good deeds, and I will always strive to live my life in accordance with her teachings.
I was raised in a family that was always open to guests. We would often have people over for breakfast, lunch or dinner, and my mother would always cook extra food, just in case someone showed up unexpectedly. She believed that it was important to be generous, and that by feeding others, we were also feeding ourselves. She used to tell that Allah has promise to reward us tenfold for our generosity. Those were the acts of our beloved mother that brought us more blessings.
We started to see a change in our lives. We were more prosperous, and we were happier. We realized that the mother was right. By feeding others, we were also feeding ourselves. My mother continued the tradition of cooking extra food for years and its continuing even to this day. I am grateful for the lessons that my mother taught me about generosity. I have learned that it is important to be open to others, and that by sharing what we have, we can make the world a better place.
My grandmother was a Kashmiri woman who had lived in Burma for a time, and she learned how to kill snakes and other reptiles. She passed this knowledge on to my mother, and both were known for their ability to handle these creatures.
My mother was also known for curing snake bites. She would recite Quranic verses over water, soil or blow on the affected area, and the patients would be healed instantly.
My story is a reminder that there is always hope. Even in the face of great challenges, we can overcome them with the help of our Allah. The black shadows that I saw were a manifestation of my own fears and anxieties. But by witnessing the strength and determination of my parents and in particular my mother, I was able to overcome my fears and find the light in the darkness.
The fireflies or jugnu’s that I befriended were a reminder of the power of hope and friendship. They showed me that even in the darkest of times, there is always light to be found.
My family’ story is an inspiration to us all. It shows us that no matter how difficult life may seem, there is always hope. If we have the courage to face our fears and the determination to never give up, we can achieve anything.
I am grateful to my parents for teaching me these lessons. I will never forget her strength and courage, and I will always strive to live my life with the same determination and hope.
By: Mohammad Ifrahim Butt, Saeela, Jhelum, Pakistan.
Date: October 2021.
