As life goes on, many people come in our lives and we become part of other’s lives and then vanish, to follow our own paths. Many a times even the inseparable friends move on in their chosen paths and before long you realise, you have been forgotten and without realising you have moved on.
I have lately been thinking about my past and have been conversing with myself. One of the things which is repeatedly coming to my mind is the question ‘Do we ever stop and think about all the people who have been in our lives in one way or the other, all throughout our life, at that point in time!’ Probably yes… if we don’t talk about them is another thing.
Imagine, these people could have just been the school gate-keeper or a commuter on a daily commute who happen to be on the same route, time and on the same method of transportation, etc. everyday. I believe these people, by default, become a part of our lives. Just saying a ‘Hi’ every morning and that’s the only conversation for years and one day it stops. And we move on. We know each other but are strangers and there are many who fall in this category.
I remember while growing up in a household where my parents, like many in this world, strived for the family to survive and be afloat and that they were able to provide for their children’s needs. Enabling my family to survive, were many people who were strangers, but I am pretty sure without them the struggle would have been two, three or even four-fold.
I was born and brought up in a Hindu family in Karachi, Pakistan where the dominant faith is Islam but never have we experienced any religious discrimination, we have always been and are Pakistanis. I remember, in my childhood, I used to hold my mum’s hand and go to buy groceries to these two shops. We didn’t have the big hyper-markets in the 80s. One shop was owned by a Pashtun family and the other by a Memon (Pashtun’s and Memon’s are another sect within the Muslim community).
Pashtun’s are hard-core Islamist’s and there is nothing wrong with that. It’s a way of life they have been taught to lead but never did we find them mistreating others because of who they were in the social setup or which faith did the others follow.
People belonging to the Memon community speak in Gujarati language along with Urdu, and because we belonged to a Gujarati family, it was easy for us to communicate. In fact, that Memon family was so close to my maternal family that the whole family was an extended family to my maternal side. Never did both families mix relationships with business.
Going back to our grocery shopping, at both the shops, after putting all the stuff in the plastic bags, it was time for payment and my mom was always short of cash (there were no credit cards in those days). This didn’t stop both the shop owners from letting us take the material. Both would simply write it down in a book, ask about my father and family in general and then say it’s ok sister, pay later. That was true humanism, without any hidden agenda or ulterior motive.
How ironic it is that today after 3-4 decades, I only remember their fuzzy faces, they may have forgotten us. I don’t even know if they are alive or what’s their status. World and life has changed and moved on. But while I remember them today, I want to thank them because in some way I believe, they and strangers like them have contributed the most in our lives.
Thankfully the time to pay off the monetary debts came within my parent’s lifetime and they left this world without any debt, but the kindness of these strangers was in part a big contribution to the survival of our family.
I now understand, how and why did my parents believe in giving to others, even when they themselves were struggling, they would somehow find a way to help others. Most of the time they were cheated at the end, by relatives/friends but it didn’t stop them until the end being at the side of others in good and bad times. And I am not saying this because they were my parents, I know this because I have seen them being swindled by extreme close people i.e. mainly family, that was heart-breaking!
There are still people in this world who have no reason to help others, but they are difficult to find.
Today, at the age of forty-one, reminiscing a journey which began in a small home in Karachi, Pakistan, and then to Dubai, United Arab Emirates and now sitting comfortably in our home in Sydney, Australia, I am grateful to GOD and want to thank ‘Lala’ (as my mum called the Pashtun shop owner and ‘Bhai’ to the Memon), both words mean ‘brother’ and both played the role of being true brothers.
Copyright: Kirtan Varasia 2018