Monday the 6th of June 1960 was a sunny day in Hyderabad Deccan. My mother with her friend Tayyaba were walking back from her school, Rosary Convent. It had been a routine day with the usual humdrum of lessons and games. My mom had four toffees in her pocket that day. One rupee bought six toffees those days from the canteen. She had given two to Tayyaba. As she walked home chewing one of those caramel toffees, a white Fiat was seen leaving her house. She instantly recognized it as Dr. Mannan’s car, the family doctor and a relative.

She rushed in wondering what had happened and was greeted by her mom who gestured with her finger to stay quiet and that her father had suffered a heart attack. She tiptoed into his room to see how her 51-year-old dad was doing. She was relieved to see him breathe, a movement she watched intently. It was soothing and comforting for her.

Some months passed and her birthday and Christmas day arrived. Her dad had been feeling better and was back to his jokes and qissas (stories). It was her 12th birthday and she had secretly tried on some lipstick. Her married sister Safia used to leave lipsticks behind when she visited from Chittagong.

Someone suddenly called out “Juvaria Maa”. Startled that she had been busted using lipstick, she quickly wiped it off and ran to her mother. Her father was also there, sitting on the bed and her younger brother was rubbing his back. Her mother said in her usual calm manner “Massage your father’s arms. They are hurting”. Her father lay back and her mother asked that their neighbour Dr. Arifullah Qadri be called. Her father appeared to be gazing at a picture hanging on the wall on the left. It was the same black-and-white picture of Pir Ibrahim Al Gailani that hangs in her study today, packed with other books and manuscripts on Sufism.

Dr Arifullah Qadri arrived and upon examining her father asked if there were any other elders in the house. Some commotion ensued which my mom does not recollect. She went outside the main hall of her house to take some air and sat on the stairs gazing at the driveway. Around 15 minutes later Gen Ahmed Ashraf (her uncle) and her aunt arrived. Just as they were walking up the stairs, Dr. Arifullah Qadri was leaving. He paused and looked at them somberly. “He has just passed away,” he said. She remembers walking back inside slowly as her legs were trembling. She once again watched intently. He was still.

My mom stopped celebrating her birthday from that day.