Its 6 o’clock. Sharique always dreaded 6 o’clock because he realizes everyday that he had to go home. Home... Or was it a house? It sure felt like a prison even if it didn’t have four walls and a tiny window. He closed his file, arranged his table and went to his boss’s office to sign out. He worked in a freight and transport office. He was currently the head supervisor. He had started working when he was a mere boy of seventeen. His uncle had got him the job at the Seth’s office. Today he was fifty five. His once lean body had become hefty and his youthful boyish look; dull and deep. He was a father of three children; two boys and a girl. The boys were married and settled down with their families and his daughter had written her last A level last week. He knew he now had to look for a good husband for her. It was his duty as a father. And then… there was his wife.
Zareena: It was such a beautiful name but unfortunately did not transfer to his wife’s nature. He had been eighteen when his grandmother, aunts and mother decided he had a well paying job of three hundred shillings to support a wife. Sharique had come from a strict extended family. All the decisions were made by the elders- Men of the family. That meant his grandfather, uncles and father. Uncle Aamir was the eldest and he was rather dominating. He controlled the thoughts of both his father and brothers. He did not like anyone answering him back and disobeying him. Sharique had feared him as a child.
When he was eight, he wanted to fly a kite. All his friends in the neighborhood were flying their kites over the harbor as the sea breeze blew them higher and higher. “I wish I had a kite” Sharique confided to his best friend, Imran. Imran stayed next to Sharique and they both went to the same school, sat on the same bench and were inseparable. “Why don’t you make one? We can get a nice colorful clothe, tie a few sticks and join them both with thread. I will get my mother’s sewing thread and you can used it as a string” Imran replied. “Really!” said Sharique, his eyes large with excitement. The little boy had not realized it was so easy to make a kite.
He rushed home and saw a bright yellow shirt lying in the laundry basket. He took it; his mother’s sewing scissors and a rope from the store room. He ran all the way back to the harbor where the children were playing. With full enthusiasm, Imran and he started to make the kite. That had been the happiest day of his life. He saw his yellow kite fly higher and higher and he squealed with joy as he ran up and down the harbor. “Look! Look! Imran, My kite is flying! It’s flying!” Both boys felt a deep satisfaction seeing their creation high up in the sky.
It wasn’t until Sharique returned home that he realized it was going to be his most hated experience. The yellow shirt he had so innocently taken was his uncle’s. His uncle had fumed when he saw the kite. He took hold of Sharique by the collar and lifted him in the air in full rage. “How dare you little scoundrel! How dare you use my shirt? You are a thief and you will be punished.” He howled at him. His uncle then took out his belt and slashed the little boy. He slashed him so badly that blood started oozing from his wounds. If his mother had not come running in and covered him, he was sure he would have died. At one point he believed he had seen the angel of death. He remembered the feeling. But now he was too old to remember how the angel looked like. He had fainted and for a week, he was in his bed recovering. Imran was not allowed to see him when he came looking for him. Everyday Imran would come home on the way to school and they both would walk to school. Imran didn’t know what had happened and he never got to know. Sharique as a boy always hid his pain and never expressed it. He thought his uncle would be thought badly of if he said anything about what happened. He had been taught in madrasa that he was to respect his parents, his relatives and neighbors. Maintaining relationships was of high regard. At such a young age, the little boy followed it from his heart. He was there to help his mother, his aunts, he would carry the ‘market’ i.e. groceries from the market and run here and there to do their bided chores. He was the dream son people dreamt of.
Therefore, not a word did he speak badly about his uncle. After that incident, the fear of his uncle was deep rooted. He did not hate him. Somehow hating something was not in Sharique’s nature. He had been a lovely child. The one who would rescue a bird from its entanglement or bring home a stray animal to give it food and water. He had his mother’s kindness and his fathers look. When he would smile, the world around him would be lit.
By seventeen, he had finished his 10th Standard. He wanted to study further but he was an average student. He didn’t have the capacity or intellect to be a barrister or a doctor. Imran on the other hand went ahead with his studies. He left for the capital city to pursue his A levels and from there, he would fly off to London. London, that was a place Sharique wanted to visit. He had heard about the way the British dressed and talked and had been intrigued by them. Alas for him, he never did get to see London.
Immediately after school, his uncle decided he was to work at his Seth’s office as they needed an office boy. One who would deliver messages and goods around town and if Sharique worked hard, he might soon get to work under him. Sharique did as he was told. He went for the interview wearing a borrowed coat from a cousin and his father had tied his tie for him. He had looked like a child in a grown up’s clothes. The Seth was a kind man. He was strict and disciplined but he wasn’t cruel like Sharique’s uncle. When he had asked Sharique his name, Sharique got up and answered “Sharique sir”. “Sit down, sit down” Seth had said. Seth had been amused with his school boy manners. “Sharique, that’s a beautiful name. What does it mean?” Sharique stood up again and answered “It means early morning sunlight sir” “Sit down, sit down.” Seth waved his hand to him. “You have a wonderful name. Do you comprehend what it means” Sharique had nodded no. He didn’t know. “You mentioned early morning sunlight, that means the first rays of light that hit each day, with a new beginning, a new hope. It removes the darkness of the previous night and beautifies the world by giving it color” Sharique had listened in awe. He liked his name but he didn’t know it meant so much. Seth had died years ago, but his words had remained with him. Everyday when Sharique got up, he smile thinking of what he meant – hope, beauty, color, a new beginning. He wanted to be that to all the people around him.
Sharique had worked hard and sincerely. Seth had been very impressed and he liked the young boy. He had the charm and innocence to win everyone’s heart. At eighteen, after working for a year, his uncle decided he was to get married. He had in mind a friend’s daughter. She was sixteen and he had already spoken to his friend. They had agreed to the relationship. Sharique came home one day from work and a family meeting was called. His grandfather who was now ailing and weak had told him about the family’s decision. Sharique had known it wasn’t the family’s decision but rather his uncle’s. He didn’t want to refute. He knew if he would do that, it would just cause problems in the relations.
That is how, he got married to Zareena. When he went to see her, he had not really liked her. However, he knew no one would listen to him. Especially since everyone feared his uncle who had chosen the girl. She didn’t look beautiful, or pretty or cute. He was quite disappointed. He told his mother and father he didn’t like her when they were alone in their room. His mother simply cried because she knew she didn’t have the power to do anything and his father had just stared in the air. Sharique liked another girl. She was with him in school, her name was Fatimah and she lived on the other side of the harbor. Fatimah was small, petite and had the sweetest smile. Had he been given a choice, he would have wanted to marry her. Zareena on the other hand was not bad looking but she evoked no emotions from him.
He got to know her as the days passed after their marriage. She was very superstitious. She would tell him to throw his nails in the water and not in the dust bin, she didn’t mingle with his family, she didn’t get along with his mother, she would talk about the neighbors in a demeaning way and once she even picked up a fight in the middle of the market. It had been a great embarrassment for him. He had tried to reason with her, explaining it was not the proper way to behave. She had striked back with ugly words “What do you know on how to behave?! You are just some delivery boy whom I had the misfortune to marry. Do you know my father would give me money everyday the equivalent of what you give me for a weeks spending. Oh God, where did I land up?!” she lamented.
Sharique had left the house that moment itself for he feared he would strike her. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t love her, but he would never hurt her. He didn’t want to become like his uncle. He had sat the entire evening on the harbor watching the waves hit the rocks. He wished he were a child again. Reality however, was not to elude him. He had to return home. Zareena had not cared that he had left the home and had come so late. She did not realize that her sharp tongue had hurt her husband. She turned her face away when he arrived and went into the kitchen.
When she turned eighteen, she became pregnant. She had been very difficult; always moody and using foul language. She picked up many fights with Sharique’s mother who was as gentle as him. She was shrewd too. In front of his uncle, she maintained such a demure, angle like behavior and his uncle had liked her from the first.
Each day of his marriage had been a trial for him. He would wake up next to a lady with whom he could not even be friends. As a husband, he gave her all he could, but she was never satisfied. She compared him with other men, how rich they were, how much gold they gave to their wives and how hopeless he was. She found faults in the way he walked and talked. She would even back bite him with her friends. “My husband is simply useless. He is so honest and charitable that he would give all his clothes to a beggar if I didn’t intervene”. Sharique bore it. It was his prayers and Quran Shariff that got him through all his days. At night he would wake up and read the Quran Shariff when everyone would be asleep. He would cry to his Lord “Dear Lord, hold me, please hold me, I am falling, I am weak. Give me strength to bear my condition. I know this life is temporary and it will be over soon, help me pass the test of this world. I am your weak servant and without your guidance and strength, I am nothing”
They had three children. One would have thought that he would have at least good children in whom he would find happiness. Unfortunately, the test of his patience was not over. Both his son’s followed their mother’s footsteps. Ashamed as he was in admitting it, his sons were greedy and full of spite. He had tried his best to mould them, but they simply didn’t listen. They would answer back at him, take money from his pockets, go out late in the night to clubs and come early in the morning. They had married without consulting him. Not that he would have ever refused their choices, he had his own experience to justify that but they had not even bothered to ask his opinion leave alone permission. If one sad relationship was not enough, he got two more. Usually fathers take pride in their sons, but for Sharique, his backbone just bended more with sorrow when he looked at them.
His daughter on the other hand had turned out well. She prayed regularly unlike her mother. She was trustworthy and she feared God. He had a close relationship with her and she was a loving daughter. For that Sharique always thanked his Lord.
And so here he was, fifty five. He was healthy by the grace of God. He had kept his body well because he wanted to work hard and be in a position to stand up in the night and pray even when he attained old age. His wife had grown more bitter and vicious; his sons did not care about him. They sneered at him and called him an old fool. His only comfort was his daughter.
His mother had died when he had been forty. He remembered that day well. While standing in the janaza prayer, tears had fallen from his eyes like rain drops. As he laid his mother in her grave, his heart had been overcomed with grief. He knew only of one kind lady who had loved him: his mother. “Oh my mother, goodbye my mother, till Qiyamah, till I meet you again sweet mother” .He cried as he threw the first fist of dust. Innallilahe wainna ilayhe rajiun. Verily we belong to God, and to Him we shall return. His father joined her soon. She had been a good woman. His father had missed her tremendously and had become delusional. He said he saw her sitting next to him or cooking his favorite dish in the kitchen. Within a year, he lay to rest in the grave next to her. His father might have been a weak man, but he had loved his wife very much.
As for his uncle, he had died at sea. The ferry had malfunctioned and a thousand people had drowned that day. His uncle had been one of them. Sharique was happy that may be Allah Taala wanted to forgive him, which is why He took away his uncle by drowning him. The person who drowned to death is a Martyr, a Shaheed, Who get much rewards. Whenever he thought of his uncle, he felt sad. Sad that due to his pride, he made his brothers and sisters suffer, he had made Sharique suffer and inflicted scars that would never be wiped away. Yet, Sharique always prayed for him. He would say in his heart “I forgive you uncle, for how then can I expect my Lord to forgive me for the innumerable sins I would have done if I can’t forgive you? I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you.”
It was 6 o’clock, time to go home. He wore his coat and took his umbrella. As he walked towards his house, he wondered, when death would come to him. He had bore an unhappy thirty seven years of marriage. He knew he wanted to finish his last obligation as a father to marry his daughter. As he crossed the road, someone called him from behind. “Sharique!” he turned. The man looked familiar. He must be around the same age as him and as the man came closer, Sharique suddenly recognized him and gave a squeal of delight “Imran! My dearest friend! Oh, my dearest friend!” Both men hugged one another as they cried out of happiness. They had been apart for more than thirty years yet their friendship was as strong as when used to walk together to school. “How are you?” Imran asked his friend, wiping his tears away. “Alhamdullilah. I am fine. How are you? When did you come from London?” Sharique enquired “This afternoon. I went to my brother’s home and freshened up before coming in search for you. I went to your ancestral home but found out you had sold it and moved away. I was just walking about thinking how to find you when God graciously let me spot you right here, crossing the road.” Imran replied.
Both friends went on talking on the pavement. It felt as though they were young boys again. Sharique wanted to take Imran home but he was scared. What if his wife did not give Imran a warm welcome? He could not bear to see Imran uncomfortable. It was nearing sunset so he asked Imran to join him for prayers in the masjid. Both friends went off together, just like they had in their youth. After namaz, they sat on the bench outside masjid and caught up with all their news. Imran had a daughter and a son. His daughter was married and had two children. His son had just completed his medical studies and would start practicing soon. “I am looking out for a wife for my son. I think now is the right time for him to get married and settle down.” Imran told Sharique. Sharique was speechless. He too was looking for a husband for his daughter. Could he put the proposal to Imran? However, Imran was wealthy, he sat among the intelligent lot, may be he would not like a girl from a humble family. “What about your daughter Sharique? Do you think you would be interested in looking at my son for her?” Imran cut through Sharique’s thoughts. The love for his friend Imran grew more in Sharique’s heart. Really, how could he have thought his friend would have changed? “I am humbled that you ask me Imran. I thought my daughter might not meet to your standards.” He replied. “What rubbish! She is your daughter and that is the greatest testimonial I ever need” Sharique sighed inwardly. He was happy his daughter was a good girl. He couldn’t say the same for his sons but as was his nature, he never spoke bad of anyone, leave alone his children. No, Not even to his best friend.
Imran’s family had also come down so they decided they would come the next day to see Sharique’s family. Sharique went home and told his wife about Imran. How he was a successful doctor in London and had put forward the proposal for his son. Zareena’s eyes had lit when she heard ‘London’ and ‘Doctor’. She was busy thinking of all the boasting she would do to her neighbors and gossip gang. Sharique then went and talked to his daughter. He told her about his friendship with Imran and how he met him today and his proposal. “They are coming to meet you tomorrow. You can meet his son and talk to him. My dear daughter, if you have any apprehensions about marrying him and if you do not like him, you can always tell me. I will only give your hand to the one you approve of” his daughter nodded her head and smiled shyly. Sharique kissed her on her forehead and went out of the room.
Imran came the next day with his family. His wife and son. His son, MashaAllah was a handsome youth. He took after his father and was very respectful. Zareena had acted to her best. This was a proposal she didn’t plan to leave. She wanted her friends to be jealous and go green in envy.
The children were left alone to talk in the garden. They liked each other instantly and talked about various things for almost half an hour. When they came back, Imran asked them what they had decided. Both nodded their heads and smiled. “Alhamdullilah!” Sharique was happy. He wouldn’t have found a better match for his daughter. She seemed happy and that was most important to him.
The wedding took place with joy. Soon it was time for his daughter to leave. Sharique’s heart was heavy with emotion. He loved his daughter and it was sad to bid her adieu. She hugged him and cried and cried. It was heart breaking to leave such a loving man.
Imran left for London with his family. Sharique went to see them off at the airport. Both friends hugged each other. They were silent, for they didn’t know when they would meet again.
Sharique then returned home. Zareena was busy talking over the phone to one of her gossip friends. “Oh well, she is my daughter you see and she is so beautiful. The boy literally begged her to get married to him. Did I tell you he is a doctor? Oh yes, they are so rich. I can’t wait to go to London.” She kept on boasting. Sharique gave her a reprimanding look to make her stop but she just sneered at him and turned away. Ah, the misfortune of getting a bad wife.
The coming days became more intolerable for him. Now that his daughter had left, he didn’t have any solace. He was happy she was finally settled with a good husband. He missed her a lot. He remembered the day she was born, the first time he held her, the first smile she gave him. He had not realized that he would miss her so much. On top of that his wife continued to nag him and living with her had become even more difficult.
The next day, after finishing work, Sharique decided he would go to the masjid directly. He did not want to go home and listen to his wife’s nagging. He went to say good bye to his boss. His boss was the Seth’s son and Sharique and he had shared a comradely since they had worked together for so long. He gave the final accounts he had prepared that day to him. The business was doing well and they both were pleased. He went back to his desk and arranged his things just the way he always did. On the way to masjid, a beggar begged for some money. Sharique was always careful to see his charity going the right way. He took him to the nearby tea shop and bought him some food. The beggar was very happy and gave him a lot of blessings. Sharique always felt good when he did a good deed. He felt more humbled and thanked God to have given him so much that he could help another being.
At masjid, after namaz, Sharique talked to all his brothers. They would sit and discuss how things were, the economy, the new rules and amendments. They congratulated him on his daughter’s wedding. This was his family; People who truly cared about him and loved him. Soon everyone left and Sharique was alone. He picked up his Quran Shariff and started to read. Time soon passed and he didn’t realize how late it became. When he finished reading, he sat there holding the Quran Shariff to his heart. His heart felt heavy. He wondered how he could go on living with his wife especially now that his daughter was gone. “Persevere Sharique, Persevere.” He told himself. He brought to his mind Prophet Nuh (Noah) and Prophet Lut (Lot) and thought of how they had persevered. Tears fell down his face, “Dear Lord, I am not a prophet. I am just a slave, Oh Lord, relieve me now, I don’t know how much longer I could go on” Sharique prayed. He didn’t know what could relieve him. Divorce was a word foreign to him. He knew he had the right to exercise it, but never did he think about it. He was after all, the kind man who would not hurt anyone and to divorce his wife, he knew she would be devastated. No, he wouldn’t do that. He would sincerely perform all his duties as a husband, just this night, his shoulders had slumped and he appeared as one who had born a lot of pain.
He remembered Prophet Muhammed and said his blessings to him. He asked forgiveness from God for his sins, he prayed for his parents, his children and even his wife. After reading a few lines from the Quran in his heart, he was ready to leave.
As he leaned forward to get up, a terrible pain shot right through his heart. With the Quran in one hand, he clutched his heart “Ya Allah!” he cried out in pain. He was so shocked. The pain was unbearable. It was as if his heart was being torn. And then, he saw him, the angel. The one he had seen when he had been eight. Oh yes, it was him. He smiled through the terrible pain, he was scared but he knew in a few moments, there would be no pain. No pain at all.
They found him the next day at dawn prayer. Sitting by the pillar, the Quran Shariff clutched in his hand. He had a peaceful smile on his face. The doctor brother checked his pulse, no; Sharique’s soul had left this world.
Sharique is still remembered today. Children are told about him, what a kind man he was and what a good end he had.
The early morning sunlight had colored the world and silently slipped away.
