The Man of Honor.

I have no clue where to start from. I should probably start from Monday, Feb 23, 2009. A fresh new day for us. I dropped my Dad to Shifa Hospital for his regular medical check up, and headed to university. I was in class at 10:15 am, when he called, and said,
Dad: "I've called Abdullah to pick me up from Shifa".
Me: "Nah, I can come. After 15 minutes I'd be free, I'd come to pick you up"
Dad: *hesitatingly* "Don't worry. If I'd need you, I'd call you".
And these were the last words that he spoke to any one of us. I was the last one from our family whom he talked to. I just cannot forget his words and his ever-content face.

On my way back to home (from uni), Mommy called me. I was near the colony so didn't pick up. The moment I stepped in the house, my Mom told me that Dad fell in the hospital. She was hell worried. At once, I quickly got into the car and sped towards Shifa. On the way, she told me that Biya received a call from the hospital that Dad is in a serious condition and that we should reach the hospital in max 30 minutes. Shifa is like on the other side of the city. I was racing at 70+ speed. It was hard to keep my Mom calm, to hide my own emotions and to reach Shifa as quickly as possible. But I had to be strong! At last, we reached there. We quickly went in the Emergency. We were guided to ICU. We were so out of our senses that we went to the CCU. Mom was trying to ask the nurse, while I was madly searching the cubicles for my Dad.
Mom: In which room is Mr. Siddiqi?
Nurse: I'm sorry?
Mom: Mr. Siddiqi? Rooh-ul-Amin Siddiqi?
Nurse: Where have you been guided Ma'am?
Mom: ICU!
Nurse: This is CCU, Ma'am. But please sit down and relax. I'd bring you a glass of water. Don't worry. Your patient would be fi...
Before she could complete her sentence, we were out of that place. I have no clue why I climbed the stairs. I think I was searching for ICU. I heard someone say that it's on first floor. But it was not on the first floor of that building/ department. When I was on the first floor and unable to find ICU, I asked a medical assistant to guide me. He quickly told me the directions and with the same speed I rushed downstairs. Finally we found ICU. Found my brother (Abdullah) there. He didn't tell us anything, just asked us to pray. I called Nani ammi and cried. She got worried too. Asked her to inform all our relatives. Later we were told that my Dad fainted near the dispensary. A young man, round late 20s, brought him to the Emergency and dialled various numbers from my Dad's phone. We were also told that he got 6 cardiac attacks in 60 minutes! The doctors did the Cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) (or simply chest compressions). Later when that didn't even work, they had to give him electric shocks. He was on ventilator. How painful for my sensitive Dad.

Once I was allowed to enter ICU. I was horrified to see him. He was surrounded by huge machines. Different machines gave different, fluctuatuing readings. I was going numb. I don't know when my brother held me tight and the only thing I asked him was, "Papa will survive na?" I just couldn't resist my tears. He helped me walk out of the ICU. His eyes were closed. I so wanted to kiss his hands but I couldn't. I was extremely extremely scared. After 2-3 hours when I went again in the ICU, I saw my Dad moving up and down. I almost screamed and called the nurse and asked her what was happening to him. She told me that now he was breathing on his own. Earlier it was just the machines. I was then told that his BP was 53/30. Can you imagine? I was told he was regaining his BP. Earlier it was ZERO! I have seen his BP shoot up to 160/120! I was told that when he fell at the Dispensary, his sugar level had shot to an alarming 570! That's the "Death Level", as they call it. Today I was told that doctors said there just 1% chance of his survival. It would be a miracle if he survives. If he does, he'd stay paralyzed. His brain had stopped functioning the moment he had fallen down.

I remember in Feb 2005, he had his angiocardiography. His medical report stated that out of the 4 arteries, 3 were completely blocked, and the 4th one was 80% blocked. Roughly, it means that only 5% of his complete heart was functional. 95% was blocked! This is the miracle with which he survived for 4 complete years! My Dad's heart specialist never used to believe him. He would look at the reports, then at my Dad, and then back at the reports, and would say, "Siddiqi Sahab, today I got to know miracles do happen!"

When at night, we came home from Shifa, we all were very tired and worried too. But doctors had reassured us that his pulse was getting back to normal (earlier, there was no pulse). That night I had two dreams; one in which I saw my Dad very happy and healthy, and the other scary one, which came true the next morning. Around 2 am, my brother called the hospital staff and they said he was recovering. Momma and others were relieved. Probably that's the time when I had that dream. In the morning, around 6:30 am he passed away. And probably that's the time when I had that nightmare.

I was told at 8 am. I was sleeping, when Biya came in my room, her frozen hands squeezed mine and she started crying. I screamed like anything. Right next to my room is our beloved lawn. Mommy was watering the plants with my younger brother (Mars). Biya covered my mouth quickly and whispered, "Ammi doesn't know". Ammi had heard my scream and sent Mars to check. He came and saw me crying. When he innocently asked me, I lied that I had a nightmare. I REALLY wish it was a nightmare! Biya wanted to make Ammi have breakfast first. If Ammi doesn't eat breakfast on time, she starts having migraine. I got up quickly. Went to the kitchen, asked our maid to prepare kebab sandwiches, went in Mommy's room, took a dress out for her, and told Biya to send her for shower. I hadn't had the courage to look into my Mom's eyes and resist my tears. I went past her almost thrice, but didn't say Salam or uttered any other word. I sent her for shower, quickly cleaned my room, then her room, picked up my Dad's valuables (his wallet, check books, keys), locked them up in a drawer, locked other cupboards, slid the keys in a keychain and put the cell phones, keys and other stuff in a purse (which stayed with me at all times).

My Mamoo, Maami, her Ammi (who is also my Dad's chachi and Mom's Mumani) came to our place. We told them not to tell Momma. The moment she came out of the shower, my Nani Ammi and other Mamoo and Maamis were there. When she saw so many people at an unsual 8:30 am, she got bewildered. And she started crying when my Mamoo said, "Allah ki cheez thi, Allah ne ley li". Nani and Biya were holding Ammi. I was sitting in a corner. Even at that time I was too frightened to sit with her. I didn't want to accpet the reality. I was under the impression that she still didn't know. I was going through a very weird, and a very unexplainable phase of my life. [Astaghfirullah] I had lost faith in Allah. I thought we were cheated. I didn't pray the whole day. I didn't want to recite Quran. I staye away from my Mom, who needed me the most at that time. People started pouring in. The whole setting of our house was changed. Everything was pushed to the corner so that more space could be made for the people to sit and pray.

I was thinking that when all these people would leave, Papa would come. And I'd serve him a glass of water as usual. Like I said, I didn't want to accept the truth. I don't know how many times my Maami took my name. It was when she jolted me that I came to reality. She asked me softly, "Beta, Papa ka Ehraam kahan hay?" Upon hearing these words I wanted the earth to open up and gulp me inside! I was silently cursing everyone around. But of course, either I would be knowing or Ammi would be knowing where his Ehraam was. I didn't realize this thing then. I was just looking in the void space and was praying for all of them to leave and my dad to return.

Bushi had gone to school. When he returned, Papa's dead body was beofre him. How painful for him. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't even cry properly. Even I was held tightly by my Phuppo. I was getting out of control.

First day I didn't cry that much. Again, my mind wasn't accepting it. The second day also passed like that. But at night, when I was sitting in Dad's room, away from Ammi, in the middle of too many people, I realized that he is no more among us. He won't ever come back. Even if I start praying for him, he won't. With this thought, tears started running down my eyes. I quickly went in my room, as I'm one of those who can't cry in front of anyone. I closed the door of the room and started crying. I was screaming badly, punching my bed. It was after I don't know how many minutes that Biya came. I even pushed her away and asked her to leave me alone and let me cry. After that Lala came in searching for Biya, then Bhabi, then Maami. That day I couldn't properly cry my heart out. I should've locked my room.

I never knew I was that attached to him. I thought daughters are attached to their moms, and sons to their fathers. I was wrong. If I ask him for anything, the next day that thing used to be in my hands. I was such a pampered child of my Dad. That day I just asked him to bring me Muffin tray, and he brought a lot more baking accessories with the muffin tray. He's the one who bought me MacBook. He's the one who has gathered a million and two things for my dowry. He would keep me involved in his financial matters. We would discuss political programs. He would laugh at my crooked jokes, my idiotic accent. He would appreciate my burnt roti. He was the one who could even bring me stars if I had ever asked him to. It pinches me everytime that I never cared for him as much as I should. He used to call me his "Baita". I always acted like "Daddy's Little" and never grew up and took things seriously. I have to grow up now. I have to become his "Baita".

I'm gonna miss him with every passing moment, with every passing day. I am proud to be his daughter. I ask all of my readers to pray for him (loads and loads please), and to pray Allah to give me strength to accomplish all what he wanted me to achieve successfully. Also please pray Allah to infuse kindness in me, and never ever make me proud of any worldly thing. Ameen.

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