Happy Fathers Day

I've written this piece many a times in my mind, but for reasons unknown to me I just haven't gotten around to putting it on paper.

Mr. Yusuf Raza, my father, was born December 12, 1952 to a very humble but proud family. The descendants of the Prophet Muhammad (SA) - Zaidis, from his great grandson Zain-ul-abideen. My grandfather, God bless his soul was a very smart man, had more intellect than all his sons (sorry dad and uncles), but having his own family of 7 plus extended family of about a dozen more to support, he had no choice but to work after the Indo-Pak partition. But he knew that the only way out for his family was through education so he worked and worked just so his kids could go to school.

Dad on his first vacation in years to attend my graduation @ Columbia

Unlike myself, who chose to leave home as a teenager for the "land of opportunity", my dad had no luxury at his disposal. His only option to survive was my making a 5k walk every day to school with often no lunch money just to have a shot at a better life. And because of what he'll tell you were the efforts of his mother, who stood guard at the doorstep watching her son walk over the horizon everyday as he made the journey to school, he did make it! 

He bought his dad who used to travel on a bicycle, his first motorcycle, he helped his siblings get married, he became one of the most senior Government officials, commanding thousands of employees at probably the most prestigious Government agency in the country. 

But this isn't about his achievements as a man or a son. Like most men in South Asia, transition from being a son to a husband wasn't easy for him (South Asian women you know what I mean) but the transition from being a son to a father was a seamless one. Saying that he was a great father, I feel doesn't do justice to it. I don't even know how to explain it, let's put it this way, I've never been able to relate to any issues that kids have with their dads because I've never had ANY issues.

My father never put anything ahead of my welfare, or happiness, ever. He enrolled me in schools which were way beyond what he could afford even if it meant that he could never enjoy anything for himself. He never bought a new watch or new shoes or went on vacation because after paying for me and my sister's private education there was nothing left for him or my mother. But never once, do I ever remember feeling that he was making any sacrifices. I just thought that's what dads do. They wear the same watch for 2 decades, they wear the same shoes, they have the same clothes for years, they don't have a favorite place to eat, or a hobby. I lived in a world where dads woke up every morning, drove you to school every day, picked you up, played cricket with you in the hallway after work, even when your mom would disapprove of it, sat at dinner with you every night, tucked you into bed, woke up in the middle of every night to see if the blanket was still over you, brought you a glass of water, woke you up every morning for prayer then for school and just endlessly repeated the cycle day, after day, after day without ever once saying that "my son, you are sucking the life out of me". To him I was his life, my welfare was the “be all, end all” of not only his physical being but even his soul.

He was never once pessimistic, never made any excuse for anything. He would always tell me when I'd complain about injustice towards me, "son, always prepare for playing against 12 players, 11 opponents and the referee". I guess he'd crawled his way out of the so many dark places as a child that the world being unfair was nothing to complain about. I think my belief that I can accomplish anything in this world must have come from watching him growing up. To him, there was always a solution for everything, if you worked hard enough and prayed hard enough, there was no stopping you, and it just became truer and truer for him as he got older.

I could on and on with dozens of stories that keep popping in the mind while I write this but I'll end with one that for whatever reasons I want to tell the most. My first paycheck as a teenager was for around $300, and I remember I was so excited to spend it on my parents because my dad gave most of the first years of his paychecks to my grandmother, so, I went to the mall in Mankato, Minnesota and bought my dad a $120 Kenneth Cole watch and my mom a necklace. He wore that cheap simple watch for almost 15 years of his life. He wore it to board meetings all over the world. Every time I'd see him I'd tell him to take it off cause it was ugly and all scratched up, and I'd buy him new watches but he'd just give them away and keep wearing that Kenneth Cole, maybe he’s still wearing it, simply because it was from my first ever paycheck. It was the first thing I ever gave him. It means the world to him no matter what anyone thinks of it. It reminds him of me every day. 

Growing up in a traditional South Asian family you never talk about your feelings especially with your father and I know I won't ever have such a conversation with him, at least any time soon, but I want him to know that I remember every little sacrifice he's ever made for me, I'll cherish them for rest of my life and if I can become half the father he is, I will die a very happy man.