We called her Daadi – that’s the Urdu word for your paternal grandmother. She died in 2020.
No, it wasn’t COVID-19 that took her from us. It was simply time for her to leave this temporary world and disappear into the unknown.
Grandma was around 93 at the time of her death and she had been pale and ailing for more than three years.
Of course, you can’t separate the body from the mind. So, due to her extremely fragile health, she had developed psychological issues: forgetting names and faces, becoming repetitive and compulsive with the same old thoughts.
In the Final Years of Her Life
She spent most of her time enjoying deep peaceful slumbers and sometimes wouldn’t wake up even after having been in uninterrupted sleep for more than one full day.
I knew that her end was near – and so desperately wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. (With haunting regret, I couldn’t!)
Basically, she lived with our auntie, approx. 20 kilometers from our home. Daadi wasn’t really sick with a disease or anything, just too weak and aged.
Age, somehow, catches up with you no matter what you do to delay its effects – just a bitter reality we must accept.
During the Coronavirus Pandemic…
Which started in January 2020, my auntie asked us NOT to go and visit Daadi, as she was very prone to contracting the virus. So, we stayed home as the government announced a 3-month lockdown in Pakistan.
During this seemingly never-ending situation we sometimes talked with Grandma on the phone but she could never really talk articulately and barely uttered just a few words before hanging up!
This would give rise to a sudden burst of urge in me to go and see her because I knew TIME WAS RUNNING OUT!
Great-Granddaughter of Sheikh Sadruddin
Coming from a family of powerful Meccan landlords in Bihar, India, Daadi had been a prideful woman all her life.
There was a time when she held sway and ruled the household.
Since we are Muslims, the traditional norm is that the oldest family member leads the household.
Therefore, after my Grandpa’s passing, it was Daadi who had the power to decide what to be done and what not to be done, and everyone had to conform like sheep.
When My Mom Was Married to Dad
And moved into his family, she found Daadi (her mother-in-law) very strict. Conflicts came up very often in the family as a result of the differences between my mom and Grandma.
Thanks to my dad’s amazing peacebuilding skills, things got good between the two ladies with time. So much so that later Daadi rated my mom as the “best of all her daughters-in-law”.
Since she was the sovereign head of the household, no one in the family, relatives – even distant ones – dared get out of favor with Daadi.
I remember how her room used to be pretty crowded – most of the time with people seeking favors from her and trying to make their way into her good books.
The nature of flattery is such that it clouds the mind of the one who receives it, and makes you believe that YOU matter and that you’ll forever remain a VIP.
My Father, A Practical Man…
Frequently used to remind his mom that the people who were so deferential and obsequiously caring to her would turn their backs on her in a snap when she might ever need them in trouble.
Daadi, indulged in her Queenly status, wouldn’t pay heed.
Decade after decade passed, and old age started creeping in, showing its ugly signs.
Daadi had taken such good care of her health that until the age of 75 – she was able to climb up the stairs all the way to our fourth-floor apartment in Karachi.
Having said that, by her 80th year, she was almost bedridden!
As Was Bound to Happen
Her room began looking empty; people slipped away from her life one by one, day by day, and soon a time came when she was lying ALL ALONE in her bed – with just a caretaker maid on her side.
Ahead lay the most painful years of her life. Due to our overly busy schedules, we weren’t able to go to her and visit often. We just talked on the phone.
Throughout our phone conversations, she would repeatedly ask, ‘When will you come to see me?’ ‘Don’t you miss your Daadi?’ Guilt-stricken, we would be evasive and avoid direct answers.
On our occasional visits to Daadi, she would tell us old interesting, exotic anecdotes of India and Pakistan, her life, and the lives of those whom she loved and lost in 90 long years.
Sometimes she talked about strange things that we didn’t understand. As we were just school-going kids back then we couldn’t grasp her trauma.
Time Flew By And Came the Year 2020
The COVID lockdown was meant to be 3 months long but was extended to 7 months.
All the while, a nagging voice in the back of my head was telling me to go and meet my grandma ‘one last time.’ How I was so sure this was going to be our last meeting, I still don’t know.
Eventually, and thankfully, when the COVID restrictions eased, one day, I saw my dad getting ready to go to Daadi’s place.
I told him he wasn’t going without me. “Yes, sure!” He agreed. On the way to her home, I was happy for this opportunity to see her after a long, REALLY long while.
Yet, I was sad, as my subconscious mind was persistently reminding me of the ‘last meeting.’
We Reached There!
And my auntie opened the door and led us to Daadi’s room, damp and dimly lit. Daadi was sleeping in her bed, her face (in fact, her whole body) radiant with divinity like the sun.
I stood there and looked at her for some time, gripped in thoughts, while Dad was trying hard to wake her up from a death-like sleep. After enough effort on our part she opened her eyes. With great difficulty, sat herself up, and gave us both a focused look!
She recognized me INSTANTLY! However, ironically, she couldn’t recognize my dad (her son). I was simply looking at her, totally blank, just didn’t know what to say.
She moved out her arm and held my hand in hers. I sat beside her on her bed. Then, she kissed my hand and said, ‘You’re a good boy, thank you for coming.’ And, fell back to sleep.
On Our Way Back Home
I was content at heart, at ease, at peace, but there was now a doubt – if that was really my last meeting with her?
Four days later, my aunt rang us in urgency. Daadi had been rushed to hospital as she wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard auntie tried, hadn’t eaten anything for three days straight, and the doctors were hopeless.
It now struck me like a thunderbolt that the ‘voice’ in my head had been right!
Indeed, it was much more than just a voice, an intuition maybe. And if I had let it pass as an ordinary thought I would have regretted it all my life – and with so much pain.
Daadi Didn’t Wake Up this Time
She was gone. I was in tears. But, with her all glowing face and with the last words she spoke to me imprinted on my mind, I felt this struggle dissolve inside me.
However, what if I wasn’t available to go with Dad that day? What if I never saw Dad leaving at that time?
These thoughts do haunt me time and again!
Daadi now rests in peace next to our grandpa. Death unites them.
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(Authored by Zyad Al Haka)
