happy birthday dad. on your 57th birthday, can your mansha ask you for her deepest heart’s desire?
i don’t know. are you happy on your birthday. why have i never been able to understand you? why do you have this shield? who do you open to? do you open to anyone?
you expect me to find the love of my life, to understand another male. when i have never understood the main male figure in my life - you.
mom was hurt, still is. we all know that. but she had us to share it with. and i know in her own ways, she’s finding healing and accepting the ways of life. i have never heard any stories of your childhood, in your words. we have the stories, but they are all told from mom’s perspective.
so i don’t understand you dad. and i know, me and both di and misbah have a desire to get to know you. we love you so much. and it hurts us a lot to see you in pain.
yes, we are also angry. but that doesn’t take away the love we have for you. mom is also angry at you. but that stupid woman can’t stop loving you. do you see that dad?
happy birthday dad. on your 57th birthday, can your mansha ask you for her deepest heart’s desire?
i asked google how old someone would be if they are born on april 21, 1968. it said 57 years old. that scares me. because i was still thinking you are only 52 and mom is still 46. why are you growing up so fast. i am so scared of losing you and mom. no matter how much i have accepted death and my own fragility, i don’t know how to handle the pain of losing any of my family.
losing aba was so hard. i still miss him so much. even if he was the one who laid down the brick for the events that followed in my life, from the moment i was born.
i had to take a break and wash my face from all the crying. woah, this is heavy
i forgave him a while back for taking me away from mom’s lap and giving me to uncle. i forgave him. it was hard dad. the first time i went to therapy, was after aba had passed away in 2019. i didn’t know what to do with the pain. the pain of not just losing him but also being angry at him for all the suffering he caused in mine and mom’s life. i was angry at him, so so so angry.
but i also got to know him. during my time in delhi during college. we lived like roommates. we were probably mentally of the same age. he would make jokes and we would laugh. he would ask me to make a cup of chai for him. you know everytime i make chai, i feel like i am carrying a piece of him with me.
not a full cup of chai, but just a teeny tiny bit. he liked the take of chai after smoking. a bit of smoke while people observing on the balcony and a sip of chai. i would go to university and sometime come late, only to find him waiting for me on the balcony. ah my heart, what i would do to get those moments back with him. i forgive him because i love him.
happy birthday dad. on your 57th birthday, can your mansha ask you for her deepest heart’s desire?
and i know mom has also forgiven aba because she also grew to love and take care of him.
i know my mom’s heart as deeply as i know mine. she’s so kind and loving and pure. she’s heartbroken and in deep need of unconditional love but dad, she still loves you deeply.
another crying and washing my face break. heavy! uff!
i forgive aba for taking me away from mom in the first few years of my life. i forgive you dad, for not being able to stop that from happening. you were just a kid, doing your best. a 23 year old. you were also craving and seeking their approval. what you and mom did, was so badass. you both showed resilience and didnt back down to get married. you crossed that bridge of shia and sunni. whether you knew it or not, you were already healing something for the future generation. for them to transcend beyond the caste, religion, any division. you planted that seed dad.
the love you both felt for each other, that bought you back to kashmir, that made you fight for your marriage to mom, that love wasn’t for nothing. your daughters are a proof of that.
zeeshan would also come around someday. i know it. he’s my baby. he knows his sister can’t stay mad at him forever. he thinks his sisters don’t love him as much as they love each other, but that’s so silly. we have loved him more than we have loved each other. we have prayed and prayed, with her hands in dua, for our brother to arrive. i remember that scense in boba’s room so vividly. three of us, in hijab and a kameez shalwar, eyes closed, praying to allah.
please allah, it should be a boy. for mom’s sake, please let it be a boy. what if its not a boy. would they be even more unkind to mom? would she never be accepted by this family? allah, please, let it be a boy.
zee, i have loved you even before you were born. when you were a baby, i would cry if they would take you away. i would carry your photograph with me everywhere. and then sometimes cry on my own when i would miss you.
you silly boy, i would save 10rs that mom would give me to take a rickshaw to my tuition center in defence colony. and walk from lajpat to defence, so i could buy chocolate for you and see the happiness on your face.
you know why i want to make money. so i can be there for all of you. i will always be there for all of you. i will always love all 5 of you unconditionally. i will be mad, yes. i will also set boundaries. but i will try, in whatever way, to reconnect. love lives here and it flows through us.
happy birthday dad. on your 57th birthday, can your mansha ask you for her deepest heart’s desire?
in the last few years of aba’s life, you were there by him you never left his side. you indulged in his hobby of going to saudi for hajj. you would tell me that he’s like a kid right now, in a way, he’s no different than zeeshan. and you would laugh with me when they would fight over india pakistan. ah, such beautiful memories.
abdul khaliq changal. i had written his name on paper, in calligraphy ink as a way to keep his memory. and under his name 1934 - May 9, 2019. i cant find it right now but it used to be in my purse. once i handed over my passport to an immigration officer at marrakesh last year, and this note fell out of the passport. he opened it, took it in and then gave me gentle kind smile as he folded it back, put it back in the passport and handed it over to me.
i had to find or create something to keep his memory. the last i saw him was in 2017 when i leaving from lajpat nagar flat to the aiport to go back to Montreal. he cried when he hugged me goodbye. i told him, we will meet again aba. he didn’t believe me. we didn’t meet again. i couldn’t get myself to see him being so weak and fragile. the strong, quirky man who was walk all around old delhi, even in his 80s, with his grand-dad jokes. i wanted to keep that image of his in my mind. i was selfish. i am sorry. i am sorry aba. but i wasn’t that brave to face death at that time.
so when i was crying for the loss of my aba, i somehow reached for my calligraphy pen and let the ink bleed on the paper. aba showed me a way to healing. his death set off events in my life that has bought me where i am today. his death led me to meet the part of me that was waiting to express herself.
happy birthday dad. on your 57th birthday, can your mansha ask you for her deepest heart’s desire
you once said i am like your son. i understand why you say that and i understand what you mean. i understand the culture you grew up in shaped your belief system. and that culture, with patriarchy inbuilt, made you believe a man’s worth is more than a woman.
but don’t you see it dad. you have been fighting that system all your life. you believed in your daughters even when no one else supported you. the shop caught fire around the time di was supposed to go for her mbbs. you didn’t let that stop you. you did whatever you could to put together the money to send di for her studies. she’s a neurologist today. i know you are so so so proud of her.
i remember you once told me not to worry about the tuition fee during my undergrad. that you got it. i am sorry that for some reason i thought at 22, i had to stop relying on you for support. i am still figuring out where my hyper-independent tendencies came from. but maybe there was a genuine desire to take the load off you. and to help you by supporting misbah and zee. maybe the support i offered to msibah and zee was not from the place of trauma, and from the deep corners of my heart. maybe that’s why mom also keeps on giving away whatever jaaydaad she had to you, to aba, to zee. to be useful in whatever she can. i get her.
but i was able to do that because of your support - financial, emotional, mental, during the years i needed it the most. i see you dad. i see all that you have done for us. you are not a failure. you have not failed as a dad. do you see that?
i think you and misbah need to have a chat as well. you both need some healing. but really, why would you not go to hospital when she was born. that’s very mean dad. she loves you the most, you know. she cries for you sometimes when she calls me. she is, also, the only daughter with no mommy issues. mom messed up once with di and once with mi, but decided to do it right with mom. she learned it the third time, hehe. but that princess of yours has deep daddy issues. i will let you two sort it out at your own pace.
happy birthday dad. on your 57th birthday, can your mansha ask you for her deepest heart’s desire
okay i will accept to be your son. would you allow me to love you unconditionally, the way you loved aba? would you share your heart’s desire, your mansha with me. with your mansha. i forgive you for everything and i am so grateful for everything. would your tell your childhood stories to me, to your daughters, to your son? would you be open to sharing your heart, a bit more softly with mom?
i am not sure when is kashmir going to call me back. it seems like maybe next year, but who knows. i would know when my dad, my mom, my ancestors, my land, my people, my roots call me back. i will know when the time is right.
until then, will you take care of yourself for me. would you take care of mom for me?
i love you dad, your mansha