My Dad

 

                                                        My Dad
My parents made a wonderful pair, dad was in the army, and mom the most beautiful poet with a melodious voice stayed at home. 
They both belonged to Pakistan. Before the partition riots, they just locked their houses in Lahore and  Sargodha and came to Jalandhar because some trusted friends had told them about the impending danger. They left all their belongings, houses, and friends and they were planning to return when things were peaceful again.
My dad's elder brother was called Iqbal'.so Tayaji in that situation had a tough time convincing the people that he was a Mohyal Brahmin.
After two or three years of struggle, Dad settled and married Mom but the pain of partition was always there.
He always told us all about his childhood, the rivers, the streams, the fields, and the buckets full of mangoes and musk melons. The cities or villages that dad and Beji,my grandma,often mentioned were Rawalpindi, Pinddadan khan, and Lahore. How often Beji told us about Sunil Dutt Ji and how he was related to her.

Dad loved Lahore and his college days. It was a film city, so the students would often try their luck in movies. Dad would tell us that there were drums of facial make-up...must be the foundation and the students would happily be a part of the crowd. Dad too got his moment of glory when he acted in a movie called 'Khajanchi', he was a cashier in a bank I think and the Hero had to withdraw some cash!
Many times with the same enthusiasm we had heard dad tell us about 'Pran' he was in the same city and had come for auditions. Dad would happily with a joyful voice repeat the dialogue which 'Pran the greatest villain' had said and had became a star.'Apki ghadi mei waqt kya hai' 
Dad told us about his childhood about the cities and villages of India and remembered them with joy. He was the one who fought against China in 1962 and Pakistan in 1965.
He lived a royal life and elegantly left the world without any ailment fit and fine at 94. I remember him with joy, I always remember him with extreme contentment,he left the world on Vaikundh Ekadashi. The Priests in the South have a really Rich Cultural Heritage, so the prayer service was as if Gods had really come down to receive my saintly dad. The clear serene waters of Kaveri added to the religious rituals.
I just wanted to share this because I wanted him to go back to his childhood places..see them..feel them...but he said ..Home is where the heart is' ...but we knew he wanted his so many questions to be answered by someone. and wanted to know what happened to the Nehar on which their cot was the bridge and the brothers and sisters sat splashing water and enjoying mangoes or musk melons.
Of  Course, we did hear about the train..and how dad's relative was found alive in it and the painful gadar.....