There will be no song after me.
And it will be the atmosphere of Garden after me.
The road is quiet, dull, and depressed.
How the city of loyalty became desolate after me
Tall and slender, with a strong physique, a complexion of rosy, white, an elegant stature, a captivating and innocent face, broad forehead, unique and charming, beautiful almond-shaped eyes shining not just with black brilliance but with the sparkle of diamonds. The flowing tresses emit a vivid glow reminiscent of the vividness of a vibrant night. Analysing glances, a straight and prominent nose, beautiful delicate thin lips, an expansive and smiling mouth resembling a blooming bud, cheeks as rosy as a pomegranate, with the grace and softness of silk, blessed with a combination of black and white reminiscent of the unity of opposites. Close enough for the chest to embrace, slightly sour Mustaches, covered with a well-ironed hat, a tone exuding passion and helplessness in speech, a voice resonating with grandeur, excellence in movement, majesty in nature, a fiery sense of independence, governance in speed, power in speech – an embodiment of the spiritual qualities of Kashmir. Like the gentle breeze of the morning and the warmth of thunder, a living legend, the symbol of the heaven on earth – a blockade that evokes the feeling of humility, and in its absence, belief sprouts like a seed. He appears as a sovereign in figure, boundless in accomplishments – this is the glimpse of those whose name is synonymous with Habibullah Malik!
As memories of them seep into the veins, the pain begins to surface.
When their mention fades, even a heart of stone begins to weep.
58 years ago, on this blessed day (Friday), December 3, 1965, at 3:13 PM, in Room No. 5 of the Civil Hospital in Lyallpur (now Faisalabad), a personality of great stature took a turn in this transient life, as if he knew that his abode was in an eternal place where there are perpetually blooming gardens of fragrances. Just as there is a standard for the value of everything, the ticket to enter the gardens of this world is also not so inexpensive. Life, like a precious asset, is given in exchange for death, and then death itself is the cause and means of reunion with the beloved and the eternal beloved. Beyond the eternal beloved, what greater blessing could there be! How wonderful that today, the beloved of thousands of hearts has presented himself in the presence of his beloved.
Now, even the courage of the bereaved has faded away,
Friends, how many distant settlements they have built.
They say there are lakes in the world that have water simultaneously sweet and salty. In one part, sweet, and freshwater flows, while in the other part, salty and bitter water resides. The miraculous aspect of nature is that both water layers in these lakes remain separate, and each part of the water maintains its distinct taste.
Whenever the thought of these lakes comes to my mind, I envision a similar lake. Many years have passed, and countless times I attempted to give words to these thoughts and beautiful memories. However, due to an invisible fear, I couldn’t, perhaps cowardly, fearful, and weak, fearing that I may not be able to do justice to all those memories.
But today, the limit has been reached. Sometimes, amidst the piles of gunpowder of lost memories, combustible material of events and incidents keeps accumulating. However, there is no means to ignite the explosion, or let’s say, understanding that keeping a safe distance is the principle of life. But today, inexplicably, the heart has displayed such a combustible material that, by detonating it, all the memories have been scattered in one explosion.
On the blessed Friday, December 3, 1965, when you were sitting in Room No. 5 of the Civil Hospital in Faisalabad at around 3:13 PM, you asked with half-open eyes, “What day is it today?” Tayya Jan replied, “Today is Friday.” You then turned your gaze towards your life companion, who immediately understood the meaning of your eyes. You were given ablution on the bed.
In comparison to the past ten days, there was a special calm in your condition today. Despite weakness on the face, there was a glow. Despite your long-time companion Hafiz Sahib’s special request, you continued listening to the Quran for quite some time. I still remember that when Hafiz Sahib reached the last verses of Surah Al-Hashar with melodious recitation, tears started flowing from your eyes.
Immediately, I turned my face away, unable to bear it. You instructed all of us to offer the Friday prayers at the mosque attached to the hospital. You started walking towards the mosque, connected to the hospital, but I don’t know why my steps were heavy, stumbling here and there. It seemed as if they were stuck somewhere, hesitating. Turning and turning, the eyes were circumnavigating the room, an unfamiliar fear was unsettling the heart. Your revered mother had not left your side for a moment in the past ten days. The matriculation exams were going on, and it was understood that the household was running smoothly, and you were being obeyed. In my exams, there was always a situation where the prescribed time would end, and I wouldn’t get the opportunity to write. However, in these past few days, the situation was entirely different.
Now, perhaps I was free from my exams, and the obedience of your orders was continuing. During the exams, there was always a state where the prescribed time would end, and I wouldn’t get the opportunity to write. But now, the circumstances were entirely different. Perhaps, for the first time, I was running towards the hospital free from my exams. All my school teachers and, especially, my Headmaster Mr. Zakaullah Sahib had high expectations that this year my name would be prominent in the entire district. But who knew about this unknown incident? Perhaps, it was only the perfection of your prayers that Allah Almighty had shown special mercy; otherwise, the news of your illness alone had already taken away my motivation and diligence.
Since you were admitted to the hospital, the entire city was in upheaval. Many times, the hospital staff drew attention in your direction because a whole group of doctors was always present. The senior staff of the hospital was also present like an emergency duty. Sometimes, it could be sensed from your face that you were enduring unbearable pain with great patience, but it was never expressed verbally.
In the past few weeks, you had arrived from occupied Kashmir to welcome the destitute migrants on the next borders of the country. You were busy not only in relief work but also searching for your brothers like Ismatullah Malik and other dear relatives. When a special group of my maternal uncle reached, you immediately took them and reached Faisalabad without your brother for the third time. Despite the settlement of many families, you returned disappointed without your brother for the third time. The internal agony of your heart was evident from your face. One evening, you sketched such a plan for the settlement and well-being of the Kashmiri migrants that everyone who heard it was greatly impressed. Despite the prosperity of many families, your heart seemed to be stuck in the continuous migration to Kashmir. Perhaps, the fresh miseries of being a migrant had revived in your heart. You were once again engaged in the efforts for the settlement of the migrants when sudden back pain incapacitated you. You remained afflicted with severe back pain throughout the night. The next morning, without examining, your friend Hakim Riyasat Ali administered an excessive dose of penicillin into your left arm, as if announcing your departure from this world. That day was extremely challenging; the intensity of pain rendered you helpless, and the immediate hospitalization became inevitable. It was revealed that instead of relief, the excessive dose of penicillin had caused a severe infection throughout your body. All doctors were astonished at how the past twenty-four hours had passed. After this infection, life usually becomes a guest for a few hours, but the specialists were eagerly awaiting the day of recovery.
Immediately, a complete blood transfusion was performed. The first three days, your health remained severely compromised, but by the fourth day, your condition had significantly stabilized. However, gradually, your health suddenly deteriorated again, and the doctors suggested amputating the arm to prevent the further spread of the infection throughout the body, as there seemed to be no other remedy. Uncle Dr Rehmat Ullah Malik, being a doctor himself, had been overseeing the entire procedure like a shadow from the first day. Immediate permission for surgery was granted.
On the other hand, when this news was published in local newspapers, a wave of demand for the arrest of Hakim Riyasat Ali gained momentum. The city was filled with such a surge of sorrow and anger that Hakim Sahib closed his clinic and fled the city. One day, suddenly, Hakim Sahib arrived at the hospital with his family, putting his head at your feet, and, tearfully seeking forgiveness. I remember you were comforting him even from your deathbed. You all turned your faces away, and you instructed:
“I have forgiven Hakim Sahib for this unknown act. From now on, whatever pain he inflicts on me will not be related to me. How could it be possible to end my connection with him? The whole world can be sacrificed for your connection. Who could dare to sever ties with your family? Even enemies could take pride in your connection. Nevertheless, Hakim Sahib was respectfully dismissed. Maulvi Ismail, sitting outside on his cot, was praying, and requesting blessings for your health. You had prevented him from begging with great love, even though he used to beg on the streets with both legs and the lower part of his paralyzed thigh. You not only arranged for him a makeshift shelter outside your hotel but also told him to earn a living through hard work, even though you had already offered him several thousand rupees for that place. You had not only tied a knot for him but also arranged a small “box” outside your hotel with some belongings, telling him to earn his livelihood with hard work, even though you had already offered him several thousand rupees for that place. He used to pray for you with love, begging for alms despite dragging himself through the streets with both legs and the lower part of his paralyzed thigh. You not only arranged for him a makeshift shelter outside your hotel but also told him to earn a living through hard work, even though you had already offered him several thousand rupees for that place. You had not only tied a knot for him but also arranged a small “box” outside your hotel with some belongings, telling him to earn his livelihood with hard work, even though you had already offered him several thousand rupees for that place. He used to pray for you with love, begging for alms despite dragging himself through the streets with both legs and the lower part of his paralyzed thigh. You not only arranged for him a makeshift shelter outside your hotel but also told him to earn a living through hard work. You had not only tied a knot for him but also arranged a small “box” outside your hotel with some belongings, telling him to earn his livelihood with hard work. He used to pray for you with love, begging for alms despite dragging himself through the streets with both legs and the lower part of his paralyzed thigh.
It was his habit for years to arrange daily tea and breakfast from the hotel for a long line of poor and needy people in the early morning and he used to perform this act as his duty. The employees were directed to carry out this practice as part of their job responsibilities, with a specific emphasis on avoiding any laziness or misconduct. The atmosphere reflects a sense of compassion and love, with a notable example of the staff, including those from Kashmir, working together for years. There’s a mention of a small community from Kashmir, symbolizing unity.
The city’s elites, scholars, and religious leaders formed a bond with these individuals, holding gatherings that addressed both local and national issues, fostering social interest and participation. The narrative includes memories of national elections, where both Fatima Jinnah and Ayub Khan received respect, but Ayub Khan’s support was specifically due to the lesson of women’s governance in Islam. However, the narrator expresses collective prayers for Fatima Jinnah’s success.
A particular incident is highlighted where a woman, unfamiliar with politics, expressed sympathy for Fatima Jinnah based solely on her gender, leading to a brief misunderstanding that was immediately rectified with an apology. The respect for religious scholars is evident, and specific figures like Maulana Siddiq and Faizl Ul Hassan are remembered fondly. The mention of the gatherings and speeches of Faiz Ul Hassan in the meetings of Ahraar indicates his significant influence.
Look, you will not see again today.
The case of Ghalib Unparalleled
The word has spread, but the memories are still standing in a row, who should I embrace and who should I leave! I know that the flowers of love are the pots of the eyes, which are watered under the protection of the eyelids, but the harvest of years is ripening and gathering on these pages today. He did not demand and demand for impressions. In fact, when a person walks around with the lamp of sorrows on his palm, the light makes the scars of happy memories stand out on his face, and then sometimes a person becomes a spectacle in love, but if this same lamp of sorrow is hidden and lit in the heart, then his the soul is bright and fragrant with light. Then a person becomes a participant in the suffering of others. This is the reason why the lights of your memories do not dim for the last five decades!
A lamp has been placed in the soil.
To be the light of the earth inside
I know why and where you have gone, yet every day, I see you pondering these questions in your heart. Now, in your neighbourhood, many have come forward. On one side, the love of a mother is held close, and along with that, the companion of life is also without comparison. In this gathering where Tayya Jan (Elder Brother) and Chacha Jan (Younger Brother) are participants, young sons, Ijaz Malik and Ehsan Malik, are also honoured to be present with you.
Beloved Riaz has left this assembly.
what remains is the world, always in the name of God.
Your story is remembered for its advice presented with wisdom and knowledge, which used to inscribe the desired counsel in our hearts. You never concealed the trials of your humble homeland; rather, you always kept it in mind as a lesson and etched it in our hearts. You emphasized instilling Pakistan as a miraculous state, more beloved than life itself, attained through the sacrifices and devotion of millions of lives. The hard workday and night endowed life with all its rewards, but the memories of Kashmir often made an appearance. There was no deficiency left in the education and upbringing of all of us, and you were an example in agricultural prosperity.
You continued to make efforts throughout your life so that no child’s legitimate desire turns into regret, forcing them to say, “If only it were so.” You did not like to hear such things. You embraced contentment and practically advocated it.
Once during the summer holidays, a group of school students, including myself, prepared for a study tour to Swat and Gilgit. I sought your permission, and after some insistence, you granted it. However, to my surprise, you personally came to the railway station to bid me farewell. In splendid isolation, you engaged with Headmaster Zakaullah Sahib and other respected teachers for quite some time. Later, it became apparent that a certain amount for the road journey was discreetly handed over to Headmaster Sahib so that my wish would not turn into regret. You also brought several baskets of fruits, bringing joy to all the students. Upon returning after a month-long journey, it was revealed to the family that every night, you specifically mentioned me during the fruit-eating session. Moreover, the atmosphere was such that the lines I had written were heard several times during the day. During this journey, I bought a “Swati style” hat, which you wore for several days for my delight, although I knew that you always used to wear a traditional Karakul hat.
Numerous gatherings have become dreams,
Numerous acquaintances have become thoughts.
The affection your mother held for you was exceptional. Despite having other children nearby, you remained at her side throughout your life. Once, during the winter, you bought a warm blanket for her for one hundred rupees. When presented at home in the service of your mother, she immediately embraced it with love. In her heart, she unknowingly wondered about the cost of this warm blanket. You, being somewhat evasive, continued your work, but eventually, when forced to reveal, you mentioned an extraordinarily high price just so that your mother wouldn’t feel dissatisfied with the extravagance.
The darkness will persist in the gathering,
Illuminate many lamps for light.
Your great desire was for me to travel abroad for higher education. You even advised our close friend Muhammad Haneef Sahib on his deathbed regarding this. I heard about it as well. This is why, despite numerous setbacks, your wish kept supporting me. Now, there has come a time when I have travelled to half the world, yet every year there is still an anticipation for some foreign journey.
You, having left behind countless memories in the hearts of everyone related to you, have now presented yourself before your beloved Lord. I know that death is nothing new; everyone has to taste it. No prophet is exempt from the law of death, neither a saint. Whoever comes fulfils their appointed time and departs from this world. Leaving this world is, in fact, a provision for the hereafter. But some who depart inflict such a profound sorrow of permanent separation, not just a loss, that coping with this shock is not only challenging but also numbing. Yet, ultimately, everyone comes into this world with the divine decree to leave it. However, some who depart give such a shock of permanent separation, which is not just sad but also astonishingly shattering, and their age is reduced only in recovering from this trauma. In the end, you, too, couldn’t bear the anticipation of your dear mother for more than three months.
Oh, the envy of a world on the death of an atom!
This is the religion for which the Creator has given.
Indeed, the news of some people’s departure doesn’t even reach the neighbours. And if it does, there is rarely anyone shedding tears other than a few. Some people’s deaths leave a couple of families grieving, but there are those whose departure turns an entire world into a realm of sorrow and mourning. The moment the news reaches them, their eyes and hearts overflow with grief. The departure of such individuals creates a void in the seat of love and affection, turning the throne of love and compassion upside down. The entire family becomes deprived of their prayers and blessings.
Your death is not just the death of a person but the death of an action, a death that will echo for years to come. It is the death of a reflective humility, the death of nobility and integrity, the death of a compassionate father, a loving husband, and a loyal companion. It is the death of such a great human being whose life path is sought through the impression of his footsteps. It is the death of an elevated father figure, from whom the complete chapter of love has closed. Your heartbeat, having stopped, has affected the heartbeat of hundreds of hearts.
You were our tower of wisdom and advice, the lighthouse that illuminated the path to face difficulties with courage. You melted like a candle, providing light to the world like a shining world. In the harsh sunlight of the world, a shade of extreme happiness fell on everyone’s head. In your restless state, you continued to distribute the wealth of peace to everyone. If you spoke, pearls of invaluable wisdom fell, which seemed to gather in everyone’s lap, ready to be collected. If you stayed silent, you became an exemplary model of dignity and tranquillity.
How can I mention the virtues and how can I express the deprivations now? It seems like you’ve become a part of barefooted journeys on hot stones in the scorching sun. Grief affects different personalities in different ways. The news of grief falls on some people like an electric current, some people are swept away by the stream of grief, some people become empty-minded after hearing the news of grief, then the grief continues to fall drop by drop. When I saw you also decorated with flowers, I immediately became empty minded. I knew that now the grief will fall drop by drop, it will continue to fall, my greatest benefactor who was gone. I was left completely alone, just like the milk is drained from an earthen bowl and now only an empty vessel remains!
You were a divine gift from whom we all benefited, and now Allah has called you back. How was your last journey for the Hereafter? After offering the blessed Friday prayer, we quickly returned, and it became apparent that with a great sense of tranquillity, you continued advising your companion Hayat on dealing with the challenges of the world’s hot and cold winds. With great humility, you sought clarity in your affairs, and with deep supplication, you looked towards the sky.
‘O Forgiving, Most Merciful! With my flawed actions, I present myself as hopeful of Your mercy. If You forgive, it is not a great matter; even worldly journeys have been completed without Your support, and it continues to be the case.
This quatrain by Allama Iqbal echoes in my mind as your gaze fell upon the blooming flowers, and I was left in a state of emptiness. I knew that from now on, drops of grief would keep falling, falling continuously. When I saw you adorned in peace among the rocks, the greatest benefactor who departed, I was left alone, just like extracting milk from a vessel and leaving only an empty container behind.
You were a gift from God that we all benefited from and now God has called you back. What kind of day did you find for the journey to the hereafter? After praying the Friday prayer, we all returned quickly and found that for an hour continuously he was giving advice to his wife Hayat to face the hot and c..old
winds of the world, and humbly asking for the clean-up of his affairs. , raised his eyes to the sky and prayed helplessly.
O Most Merciful, Forgiver! With my wrong deeds, I am appearing in your court as a candidate for your mercy. If you forgive, it is not a big deal. Even the most difficult journey in the world is with your support. I lived with your mercy and help and now I have nothing but regret, but I want permission to be present as a candidate for your mercy to be the ummah of your most beloved Prophet Muhammad.
Allama Iqbal’s Persian quatrain repeated again and again which means:
O Allah, I beseech Thee, Thou art the Giver of two worlds. Accepting my excuse on the Day of Judgment,if it is very important to take account of my deeds, then O my Merciful, keep it hidden from the eyes of my master and Holy Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.
“Bearing witness with the occupants in the room, reciting the declaration of faith, seeking closeness to their Lord.”…. Inna Lillahi WA Inna Alahi Rajion(“Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return.”)
The sadness that descends like a dark cloud in my heart, down below… …down below, I hold my heart and pray for them:
You are the Lord, we are the servants, You are the rightful of prostration and we are the ones who prostrate, You are the giver, we are the takers, You are the Merciful, we are the seekers, forgive us our mistakes and grant our dear father a high place in Jannat al-Firdous. Then Amen
“They, whom we lost in a single jest,
The sky sought, having sifted through the dust.”
