The living in this world is underscored with the inevitable dissolving into physical disappearance
Ambassador M. Alam Brohi
No warning, no hint, no insinuation, and you are gone – within 45 minutes – Azam. The doctors were helpless; the angel of mortality was quicker. The call was final; it defied all efforts to stop you from flying to the unknown world. The will of the Supreme; the pull of the celestial living; the mortality of this world or the combination of the three was the force pushing you for this abrupt and hasty goodbye to us.
Muhammad Azam Brohi, my nephew went to USA after graduation in 1992-93. He post graduated there and joined the education department. Later, by sheer dint of good luck, his parents and four younger siblings won the Green Card Lottery in the late 1990s, and migrated to the USA. He had a promising career as an educator and academician. He had a fatal heart attack in a function organized by his academic organization two weeks ago. He was only 49.
Azam’s passing has brought us face to face with the mortality of this life. We feel the significance of the Quran’s way of explaining it (We belong to you, and shall we return to you) when we experience a sudden and painful farewell by a dear soul. The will of the Almighty is supreme. We have to reckon our insignificance being the smallest cog in the spinning wheel of His universe.
The living in this world is underscored with the inevitable dissolving into physical disappearance. The human ego, vanity, pride, malice, hatred, greed are an aberration of understanding one’s place in the universe or one’s failure in the objectification of human life; the godly attributes like love, affection, kindness, generosity, sacrifice, helpfulness are the beauty of the mortal life of human being declared as the best creature (Ahsan Taqveem) of the Creator.
A person endowed with these godly attributes is a blessed soul. They live among us outpouring their love and affection. We feel their presence but don’t realize their importance. Our dear Azam had these godly attributes. He showered his love and affection all the way from his conscious age to his farewell smile. Today, we acutely feel the importance of his being to us all. He was with us, yet he belonged not to us.
Khalil Gibran says, ‘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’. Then who do they belong to?
“You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The Archer sees the mark upon the path of 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”.
Parents are the custodians of His power of creation. We are reminded forcefully, “You have been created out of a drop of fluid (Al-Quran). The Archer controls His arrow’s birth, life, rise, fall and final disappearance into nothingness. He loves His arrows (children) and the stable bows (parents) – patient, strong, resigned to the will of the Archer, and a willing traveler on the infinite path, and endowed with the strength to convert the loss of a dear one into a reminiscence and a memory.
Then, they remain indelibly etched in their memory as durable as a carving in stone; as fresh as the morning breeze, as pleasant as spring flowers; as glowing as a candle in darkness, as beautiful as the image of full moon in the dark waters.
They pass hours imagining the time we spent with them; the quarrels they had with them; the pleasure and sorrow they shared with them; the laughter they had together’ the tears they shed together and consoled each other; rekindled hope in each other and marched together hand in hand; made plans together; we lost and gained together.
They recalled the mysterious confluence of hearts, minds and sentiments. The bond was unbreakable; impervious to time and distance; it ebbed and flowed but kept its essence, balance and spark; regained its vibrancy when the destiny put them together after an interlude.
I have had gems of person in my life. They gave more, and did more for me than I deserved; their love and affection was unbounded. They were great people of grace and dignity – affectionate, kind, generous, humble and helpful. There was love in their anguish; affection in their admonition; sincerity in their counsel; wisdom in their words.
How grieving it is to lose a person – so close to our heart and soul. This loss shakes us to the core; plunges us into a deep sorrow; darkens the world around us. The grief has a sharp cut. We endure this sharp cut losing a parent, a companion, a sibling and a friend.
We have lost many stars from our constellation of relatives and friends. One of them was our dear Azam – yes, Azam aka Zahid, Babu, Babloo, Jaan Bhai. He would be remembered by these nicknames by different people. He was Babu to his parents, Jaan Bhai to his siblings, Babloo to my children, Azam to me and his friends and colleagues.
Though he was born in our family but he didn’t belong to us. He was an asset to all who knew him or whom he knew – not least because of the purity of his heart and soul and his sincere, kind, generous and helpful disposition.
He shall be with us while we witness nature having holiday; the springs bursting forth in verdure; the flowers perfuming the air; the mornings radiating bright rays; the breath of Hudson River rustling leaves; the peasants of Golimar (a neighborhood of Shahdadkot, our native town) mingling with the sun, the fields, the flowers and battling with poverty and misery.
Azam – you were born out of the soil of Shahdadkot and, today, you are ensconced in the mother earth of New York. The Archer loved you and had marked your destiny on the infinite path. We were helpless. You were gone riding on the wings of the angel. You have left a gnawing vacuum – difficult to fill. We have no option other than suffering in silence or converting our grief into a strength.
We belong to Him and shall we return to him. Goodbye Azam.
________________
The author is a former member of the Foreign Service of Pakistan and has served as Ambassador for seven years.
