I was 17 when he was hospitalized for the last time, it was a case of stroke again, the 5th one I guess, the docs said he was critically ill, but to me it didn't matter, not because I didn't care but because I knew my nana was a survivor, a fighter. The first time he got hospitalised the docs had said his chances of living were a mere 5% and yet he survived, and improved. I knew it'd be the same this time, the docs could say whatever they want too..I wasn't allowed to meet him in the ICU in his last few days, the hospitals staff and my parents thought I would n't be able to see him in his heart wrenching condition, but to me it didn't matter because I knew he'd be home in no time. With this in mind on the 7th of December 2006, I left for India to participate in a student service project. He expired exactly 10 mins after my flight took off. ( I wasn't informed, they told me when I got back)..So I was never able to attend his funeral or hold his hand before he died and I guess thats the reason why his death was unacceptable to me, until now...
My mamoo (uncle) is here to visit us and we were gathered in the lounge after dinner for some late night tea and discussions when he remarked how my aunt liked the fact that nana always used to encourage her cooking skills. That's when it struck ! Without thinking I started mentioning a forgotten incident that moistened my eyes once I was done.....- I was 14. It was lunch time and I had helped mom in making a paratha ( fried bread) , proud with my meager achievement I served that paratha to nana , who praised it from all his heart and soul and ate it with such delight as if it were the best paratha in the world ( which Im pretty sure it wasn't !) In the end he saved the last tiny bit of paratha, wrapped it in a plastic wrap and said he'd preserve it and have it framed for it was the first paratha his grand daughter had made. A few days later he suffered his first major stroke and was hospitalized, the nurse handed over his clothes, from his trousers' pocket was found his ID, a comb and the wrapped 1 cm piece of paratha !!
I've never had anyone as encouraging as appreciating in my life as my nana. He taught me to believe in myself and my dreams, I wish he were alive to see me in Med school , I'm sure he'd be most proud of me ! The nana who'd crouch into my make believe clinic under a table when I was a 6 year old, have his arm wrapped in my old hair scrunchie while I pretended to check his blood pressure and wrote a prescription of chocolates, and then most amazingly he also used to give me my fee,sufficient enough to buy candies, for as he used to say 'little Dr. Najwa grand daughter of Imadul Islam will be a big doctor one day and make her nana proud' !!...
I will nana , I will !
