For a woman who sees a lot of dreams, sometimes the snippets of the tomorrow, oddly none of my dreams predicted Aziza Nani’s death, not even that day. 

Maybe because when recently I was reading a spiritual novel and the author presented the death of a loved one to the protagonist through the Qur’an, I said that the author had totally misinterpreted God’s way of conducting His business. God does not give anyone such a vivid prediction for a tragedy.

Away from home that morning when unexpectedly I received the phone call of her death, I thought I was steady. But I was wrong. 

I had merely switched to functional anxiety, and thus it continues to be. 

I had to repeat my wazu thrice. I did not cry but when I entered the gate of my maternal home, a mountain started to descend upon my heart. There were too many people present in the yard yet the silence was unnerving. I did not look at a single face until I reached the room where my beloved Aziza was lying under a white blanket surrounded by her daughters. 

That face of hers was cold and mine was finally trickling with tears.

I sat by her side dazed and confused, without the idea that I was going to miss her more than I knew at that moment. Because she was almost 90, had started to have grave health issues, was growing weak, showed signs of dementia, needed help with movement, I’d thought continuing such a life would be a torment for her. I feared for her a life of suffering in old age. And I always prayed to Allah to do what was best in her interests.

It is hard to look at the graveyard and see that she is lying there. I always say a salaam.

Among the men who came in to........

© Kashmir Observer