As Vast as the Sky

Among the reasons
for which I thank God, one is that He has given me a father as vast as the sky.
Just as the sky never grows old, neither does a father! That’s why there’s no
such thing as an “old father.” From the moment fathers become fathers, they
become eternal. Therefore, this form of fatherhood is timeless across all
countries and all ages.

Exactly one year
ago today, after wishing my father “Happy Birthday,” he said, “Am I a child? Birthdays
are for children.” I asked, then who will cut the cake? Father just laughed
like a child. That laughter contains the answer to all questions. Due to his
illness, father has to sleep before midnight. So I called to wish him in the
morning. Today the same thing happened again!

Almost all of
father’s contemporaries have at least one flat and one car. And father has us
two sons. Father’s achievement is just this much—his two good-for-nothing sons!
With just this much, father thinks he is very wealthy! I think I read
something like this in Humayun Ahmed’s “Kabi”—a mother whose son walks on
crutches, even she looks at her disabled child with a satisfied smile and
thinks, no one in the world can walk on crutches as beautifully as my
son……….All parents are born with the strange ability to dream of making
their children the best in the world. They live in that dream, and when
necessary, they stake their own lives to fulfill it. Some worthless children
give no value to that dream and spend their lives according to their whims,
burying their parents’ tears with their own laughter. Such a life equals
thousands of deaths! There was a time when I asked the Creator for just enough
life that would allow me to do something that would make my parents honored,
proud, able to walk with their heads held high. That day has come today. Today
I can even embrace death with a smile. The entire credit goes to my parents. I
lived for them, and only because of them does death seem easy to me today.

Our father didn’t
save much money for us. Beyond the five basic needs, what I received from
father as much as I wanted was money to buy books outside of textbooks. I used
to take money from father through mother. I never had to hear the question,
“What use will this book be to you?” Father never wanted to become a builder of
wealth, so he couldn’t either. Unnecessary wealth doesn’t allow the mind to
flourish. We grew up not in wealth, but in spirit. When someone suggested
saving property for us two brothers, he would laugh and say, “They’ll earn
their own. I’ll be happy if I can make them into good human beings.” I didn’t
understand anything then, so I used to be terribly angry with father. Father’s
friends each have a car, why doesn’t father? They have such beautiful houses,
why don’t we? When they do well on exams, what expensive gifts they get, so why
should we only get cheap books? Their mothers wear thousand-taka saris, so why
isn’t my mother’s sari like that? So many more complaints and grievances!!

I was probably in
class four or five then, Pappu had just started going to school. Father was a
lawyer; his chamber was right next to our house. We lived in a cheap house of
two large rooms in an old style. The room you entered first was father’s
chamber. The ceiling and walls of that house had plaster falling off. Water
came regularly twice a day, often it didn’t come or came less, then we had to
carry buckets of water from downstairs to the third floor. One kitchen, one
veranda, one bathroom. The house was full of cockroaches, lizards, and
spiders. Both doors and windows were wooden. The door frame was broken, I don’t
remember there being any glory to the floor, and in some places the bricks
protruded unsightly from the ceiling. During monsoons, water would seep through
the windows. On stormy nights we had to tie the windows with nylon rope. This
was our childhood palace. In that palace were the king and queen and we two
little princes. Those days were amazingly beautiful! Even today I could give my
life for a silver moonlit night from those times, sitting on father’s lap
listening to stories, or for a winter afternoon sitting on a mat on the
veranda, waiting for hot rice with ghee from mother’s hands! We ate sitting on
mats on the floor. I understood what it felt like to eat at a dining table
only after growing up. In those days, we feasted like kings despite living
like beggars!

Father is a very
senior lawyer, practicing in Chittagong Judge Court since 1976. At that time,
he came first in the job examination at the then Lever Brothers (now
Unilever). He had promised his grandmother before her death that he would
become a lawyer—to keep that promise, he said goodbye to that high-paying job
and joined the court. From childhood I’ve seen father fight cases for so many
people without taking any money. For helpless women abandoned by their
husbands, he would even pay the court’s incidental expenses from his own
pocket while providing legal assistance. He helped many poor villagers recover
their lost land by fighting cases at his own expense. He took less than the
fair fee from many, and I never saw father take extra money from anyone
through trickery. (Let me frankly say here that I haven’t inherited even a
fraction of father’s nobility.) Two incidents come to mind at this moment.

A five-story
building in Chittagong’s Halishahar area. A conspiracy had been going on for a
long time to kill a widow in that building and cleverly seize the property.
There were some other complications too. That helpless woman, completely
desperate, sought legal refuge to save her life from her sons’ hands. She
called father “brother.” Father fought that case and won it too. The funny
thing is, father’s opposing lawyer in that case was my second grandfather,
meaning father’s second uncle. Father had been an apprentice under him at the
beginning of his career. Father defeated his guru in countless such cases.
Grandfather would proudly tell everyone about this at various social
gatherings. Coming back to the case I was talking about. After winning the
building, that lady wanted to register it in father’s name. When a person
returns alive from their own children’s hands, they have nothing left to lose.
That lady only wanted a little security and respect for the rest of her life.
She made this proposal to father with much pleading—if he would just let her
stay in one room, we could live in the rest of the house however we pleased.
Despite many such entreaties, father refused to take that house. Then that
aunty held my mother’s hands and said, “Sister-in-law, please make brother
understand. I want to live under your shadow with a sister’s rights! Don’t
turn me away.” Father then told her, “Sister, you just pray for these two sons
of mine. May God keep them alive. May they become good human beings. You stay
well, God has kept me very well.” I was sitting on father’s lap then and Pappu
on mother’s lap, making faces at each other about something and repeatedly
turning our faces away. With her affectionate kiss and tears, all the blessings
of that tormented heart seemed to find fulfillment that day. The irresistible
beckoning of wealth fell flat before father’s firm personality. Compared to the
spirit father possessed, that wealth was utterly insignificant!

I was probably in
class seven then. By that calculation, it should have been 1996. In the
evening, during breaks from studying, secretly watching what father was doing
through the gap in his chamber’s wooden door was one of my favorite activities
then. One day I saw one of father’s students happily trying to give father 3
lakh taka in a large brown envelope, and father kept refusing the money. Then
he said, “Sir, you are like a father to me. Because of you, we were able to
recover our land worth one and a half crore taka. I’m giving this happily,
sir. If my father were alive, wouldn’t I have bought him something?” Father
said, “If you really think of me as a father, then don’t say that. When my son
is in trouble, if I don’t look after him, who will? You just pray for your two
younger brothers. Ask sister-in-law to pray for them too. I don’t need
anything else. God has kept me very well. Besides, you’ve already given me my
due fee!” He left the envelope on father’s desk and said, “Sir, I don’t know
anything. This stays here. If you don’t need it, you can throw it away later.”
As he was leaving, father called him back and said, “If it makes you feel
better to make my burden of sin a little heavier, then I’ll take it. But you
can be assured that I’ll donate this money to some good cause. Can’t you do
that work for this father of yours?” Hearing this, father’s student hugged
father’s feet and said through tears, “Sir, Allah will never keep you in any
suffering. I’ll pray for you after saying my prayers.”

Next to us, my father’s friend built a house. We would say to Baba, “Look, everyone has a house—why don’t we?” Then Baba would laugh and say, “What good would a house do?” “Oh my! We should have a house too. Wouldn’t that be nice?” “Of course it would! So when you grow up, build one!” “Why don’t you build one?” “I don’t have that much money!” “You don’t know how to get money from people.” “That’s true.” “People cheat you, giving you less money.” “Would I have won if I knew how to get money?” “Yes, we could have lived better.” “Are you living badly now?” “We are!” “Never say that. I don’t need more money than this. If you need it, you can make money.” “Baba, you’ve been cheated your whole life. You’ll never amount to anything.” “Son, why does everyone have to win? You’ll grow up, you’ll win—that will be my victory.” I didn’t understand the meaning of those words that day. I was just angry at my failed, incompetent father. When my father’s friend’s three-story house was finished, Baba bought me a colorful kite and said, “Go, fly it on uncle’s roof!” I angrily told Ma, “Ma, why is Baba like this? How do you live with him!” Ma never said anything, just smiled softly. Baba never bought Ma expensive saris or jewelry; today I understand that what he gave her was wealth beyond all comparison.

In our broken house, handfuls of happiness used to play. I don’t remember us four ever eating evening snacks or dinner separately. Baba never ate alone outside. He would bring snacks when returning from court. Whatever we ate, we all ate together. On holidays, he wouldn’t put a morsel in his mouth without us. I always saw Baba become happy at others’ success. To this day, I have never seen ‘envy’ in Baba. “Living completely without envy”—Baba taught this lesson to both us brothers. Baba never considered anyone a rival. One who has no rivals cannot be defeated! He has already won and sits victorious! Baba still lives winning, like those old days! Sometimes I think, oh! If I could learn to live like Baba lives, even once!

Today is this simple man’s 69th birthday. Baba is not very well now. His body has broken down, he had a stroke some time ago. Just recently he returned from a checkup in Chennai. Some blocks were found in his heart too. He’s taking medicines. Ma is also unwell. She had spondylitis from before, several bones in her spinal cord had shifted and were disrupting the nerve system, a major operation had to be done to fix it. It’s only been about two weeks since Baba and Ma returned from treatment. Both are still quite sick. Meanwhile, driven by the need to earn a living, I’m stuck in Satkhira. I can’t even serve Baba and Ma a little. We can’t find any domestic help at home. Pappu takes care of everything. My youngest aunt comes to cook and leaves. There’s no household work that Pappu doesn’t have to do. He has his studies, other work too, and along with that, all the work that a sister would do if I had one, plus all other work—he has to do it all. He often cooks too. None of them tell me about any of this. But I understand everything! Sometimes I feel like kicking all these jobs and throwing everything away to go home. But alas! To kick jobs, you need to have a job first! Those who have jobs kick their jobs. Those who don’t have jobs get kicked by everyone! The world is like this! Parents raise us to be human. We become human after getting jobs. Then, like inhuman beings, we leave our parents and live with our jobs. Perhaps this is life!

In our lives, Baba is that tree whose thick trunk becomes a swing where our childhood begins by swinging on its branches, in whose shade our turbulent rebellious youth seeks peace, and even after cutting it down to sell its wood for livelihood, we sit on its cut stump to rest our weariness. Under this tree’s shade, humans feel most safe, most secure, most fearless in the world! Getting nothing, only giving—in this world, only fathers are such saints! Parents raise us and release us onto the world’s path, and we become the world’s for life. In that world, their place becomes secondary. The world’s claims on us become greater than our parents’ claims. What a strange, cruel mystery! Parents raise their children only for others. The more I see Baba and Ma and look at this me of today, the more one of my most beloved writings, this piece by Kahlil Gibran, keeps circling in my mind……..

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Baba, still, stay well. I’m saying this selfishly—if you stay well, we’ll stay well too. O God! Just as you returned Prince Humayun’s life in exchange for his father Babar’s life, do the same—reduce my own life by ten years and add ten years to my father’s life. Give me some of my parents’ illnesses in my body. What they can’t bear, I can! Let’s see if this brings even a little release from a son’s debt! Baba, forgive all my inadequacies.