FAMILY -- Father And Mother I Love You
By Mohammad Yacoob
Hawthorne, California
The Mother’s Day is celebrated every year on the second Sunday in May and Father’s Day on the third Sunday in June. Not a day goes by when I do not think of my mother and father. I love my mother and my father and the acronym FAMILY says it all. I believe that very few human beings on this earth have been inspired by both mother and father. I am one of the luckiest few.
Each parent cared for me and my siblings in their own personal way without saying that your father said so or your mother said so. My mother, a strong woman, knew her rights and responsibilities as a Muslim woman, used them very effectively to protect the family and children. Her advices and concerns to me were not only from a woman’s perspective to inform me as to how to protect the female members of the family but also to warn the male members as to how to behave with the other gender. My father gave me advice not by giving lectures but by using very few words. He discussed politics with me using the most current topic and encouraged to excel by using unique methods available at hand.
There are hundreds of reasons to thank Almighty God for giving me such a good and strong mother and father. I would first like to talk about my mother. Her actions reflected my family’s traditions at the highest level of decision making. As a Muslim, my mother knew the rights Islam had given to women. She was a decision-maker and never shied away from expressing her opinions, occasionally by using very powerful words, a rare trait among women.
In the 1940’s my family was living in the city of Poona, now known as Pune, approximately a hundred miles from Mumbai. One day she sent me back to our hometown, Hyderabad Deccan, south India. I was angry at my mother and with the passage of time I became very much attached to my grandmother in Hyderabad. Almost fifteen years later – ten years after partition of the Indo-Pak Sub-continent – my grandmother told me the truth as to why I was suddenly shipped to our hometown, Hyderabad from Poona, while my two brothers and a sister stayed back with our parents. My uncle, Major Iqbal, a distant relative of my father, was the Municipal Commissioner of Sialkot. Since he was an army officer, my granduncle asked him to join him and his two nephews in Poona. Our granduncle, my father and my uncle (Taya Abba) belong to a business family. They were Royal Indian Army Southern Command (RIASC) Contractors. Major Iqbal was an asset to our business. Major Iqbal and aunt were very pleasant people. They loved children, perhaps because they did not have their own. It seems one day aunt mentioned to somebody that she was thinking of adopting me and was making plans to make a formal request to our granduncle, the family patriarch. If the patriarch of the family assents to such a request, then it was hard for any member of the family to refuse his command. Hearing this news, my mother knew that my father will agree with his uncle for my adoption. She shipped me to Hyderabad and let others know about her decision. I have no idea what transpired after my departure from Poona because I never saw my aunt and Major Iqbal again. My grandmother never gave any details.
In Hyderabad, in late 1945 and 1946, after her return to Hyderabad, in the evenings and at bedtime, my mother would read to us stories of Hatim Tai, Ali Baba and Forty Thieves, Aladin and his wonderful lamp and other fables from “One Thousand and One Night” – Alif Laila O Laila. She also had her own favorite book that made her a strong woman and a decision maker. A thousand-page book written in Urdu language for women by Maulana Ashraf Ali Thaanvi, a Muslim scholar. The book was entitled “BahistiZevar”, meaning Heavenly Jewelry, for Muslim women on the Islamic Fiqh (jurisprudence), Islamic values, and responsibilities of Muslim women in Islam based on the teachings of the Qur’an and the life of Prophet Muhammad.
In the early 1950’s one of my teachers made a comment about this book to show how Islam had liberated Muslim women more than 1300 years ago. He said, “If your wife is the owner of two houses and you live with her in one house, then you don’t have the right to tell your wife that you would collect the rent of the other house. She has the right to conduct her own business”. This is one of the finest statements about women’s liberation uttered in the 20th century.
I came to California in 1962. My wife and my two children joined me four years later in 1966 after I graduated from the university. My wife brought as a gift from my mother a copy of the book BahistiZevar for me. My mother was directly telling me without saying as to how to respect women by referring to this book. Of course, I had read this book, my mother’s own copy, in the early 1950’s, even before my marriage. Ours was a joint family. My uncle and my father raised their children together, in a big house. We were so close that the fourteen first cousins were like siblings. We would fight, remain friends, break friendships, play games and enjoy school days, even snatch home work from each other’s hands to read. One day, my mother saw me and told me, “Just don’t touch the girls.” In the US, we tell our children not to talk to strangers and also tell them not to allow anybody to touch them. From a woman’s perspective, my mother by giving the book in the 1960’s was telling me that the naked physical hostility against women starts with simple action like this.
My mother advised me in 1962 about meat and flesh when I was coming to the United States. She used the Urdu word ‘gosht’ twice, telling me to stay away from them; this word that has two meanings meat and also flesh. Eat Halal meat and as a married man stay away from flesh, in other words, stay away from other women. She said that realizing that no halal meat was available in the US in the 60’s. She said, “Make omelet often and eat vegetable and fish.” In addition to this, she gave an additional advice and said, “If you feel you are missing your wife and your daughter, drop whatever you are doing and go to sleep.” My mother gave me advice, face to face to a married son, helping me in following the religious, cultural and ethical values.
In late 1980’s my mother decided to visit us in California after performing Hajj. Ten days before departure for Hajj, she had a mild heart attack, a third heart problem in six years. In the hospital she heard about the death of a patient. She mentioned this to her doctor who avoided talking about death. My mother quipped, “Doctor Sahiba, I have come here to get medication for my disease; I have not come here to get medication against death.” (Doctor Sahiba, maiyahaanapneymarzz kay elajj kay liyeaayeehoon; mout kay elaj kay liyenahi.n). The next day without filling any discharge papers or obtaining any release authorization my older brother brought her home.
It was a classic case of kidnapping. My older brother went to the hospital later and completed the paperwork. Our family members accused my older brother of trying to kill our mother. He said, “It is the command of my mother and I could not disobey her wishes. Her wisdom, determination, courage and faith are so powerful that she would under no circumstances have changed her mind not to go to Hajj.” She cancelled her program to come to California and after performing Hajj returned home as a much stronger and healthier person. She lived for another three years before going to her eternal abode.
My mother always received requests for money from relatives and close friends. Many times distant relatives approached her for a loan. She had developed a unique way of enquiring about the intentions of people. Whenever she was informed that a relative had arrived and was waiting for her in the living room she would immediately ask, “What does he want?” or, “What does she want?” Once my married younger sister came and stayed with us. Two weeks later my brother–in-law came to take her home. My younger brother went to tell our mother of our brother-in-law’s arrival. As usual and without much thinking, she made the customary enquiry, “What does he want?” My younger brother turned to her and said, “What does he want? Mom, he wants his wife.”
Now, I remember her every day. It is very painful, because, as soon as I think of her, the first word that comes to my mind is ‘speechless’ and about the day of her passing. This whole affair I feel is incredible and still think that it was a dream or a scene from a movie when she passed away. During the last week of April 1992, I kept on dreaming about my mother. Our older daughter Bilquis got married on 18 April 1992 and our mother very much wanted to attend the marriage and come to California but was too weak to travel. I think this is the reason that I kept on dreaming about her. I called her. She picked up the phone and uttered the words, “Who is bothering me so early in the morning?” and hung up the phone. I felt miserable. I wanted to talk to her and tell her about those dreams and enquire about her health. On Saturday May 2, 1992, I called Hyderabad, late in the afternoon, to talk to my mother. My older brother picked up the phone. “I want to talk to ‘Dear Mother’ (Ammijan).” I said. “You don’t know, Abdul Rubb didn’t call you. She passed away two hours ago”, he said with a choking voice. It was a big jolt and a shock that rendered me speechless for a few minutes. Was it an ESP (Extra Sensory Perception) from her side that kept me restless for a week? I don’t know. It seemed my older brother called me within five minutes of her passing away. All lines were busy for an hour. Our younger brother Abdul Rubb was dispatched to the telephone exchange to make a ‘lightning call’ to me. He was still at the telephone exchange waiting for his turn to make the call when I called home. Incredible, speechless.
Our mother passed away in peace. May Allah shower His grace on her and give her the highest place in Jannat.
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