BOGOSHIPDA

Translation: I Miss You.

Dear Daddy Nana

You know, I have never quite found myself at such a loss of words. I have thought about writing this for over two months now, but my mind becomes so blank, and my throat starts to contract. It made me question my abilities as a writer. I know you’d laugh if you were here right now, telling me to relax, and write about what I feel. That what is in my heart is pure, and it would make what I pen down good, automatically. I miss someone having such faith in me, that way you did.

Do you remember, when I was little, how I refused to eat breakfast without you? I insisted on being fed by you. Spreading butter on bread, and then topping it with Aloo Bhujiya, accompanied by tea. Ah, a classic. Sitting on your lap for hours, as you told me stories. I wish I could remember them all. I could see love in your eyes, the way your eyebrows perked up every time I entered the room, saying, ‘Assalamualekum, Daddy!’ Towards the end too, you were always cheerful for me, listening to me intently as I talked about the various events taking place in school, as I narrated the status of the US Elections, as I updated you on the COVID cases and told you about how I felt. You were always such a good listener. I miss having someone who was so focused and concerned for me, so unconditionally.

You know who I hold up as an idol, when it comes to love? No, it is not Salim from
Mughal-e-Azam (I finally watched it, you would have liked to hear my views on it), or Romeo from Romeo and Juliet. It is you. Every time you talked about Mummy Nani, you blushed. I’ve never seen anything sweeter. You really loved her, didn’t you? And, oh, to think you were surprised that she agreed to marry you, and so did her father, to let her? You were a great man, but I think you never realized how bright you shone, and how you were an anchor, for all of us.

You were like my father, my Guardian Angel, the man who read duas and blessed me before I stepped out of the house, every time, without fail; who defended me when Mumma was angry with me, or when I wanted something but was not granted it. When I could not have a proper conversation with you, you would ask for me, and when I came, you would say, ‘Hina beta, kaha thi aap itne din se?’ Your little anecdotes from your life, and your little sher and chutkule, they always made us laugh and added colour to our lives. What did I do to deserve you?

You might have lost your eyesight back in ’94, but you were able to see the person I really was, even if I hid it from the world. You could sense the anxiety in my voice, and would always ask me what the problem was. I brushed it off, but oh, I want that back. I want to talk to you.

This letter is a little messed up, and I am not even sure if there is any structure. I just want you to know, that I love you, and I miss you. You are in a better place now, and I hope you are happy. I will make you proud, okay? One day, people will know me as the girl who was Mustafa Jamal Rushdi’s granddaughter. No matter where you are, I will think of you as the person who gives me the wings to fly, but grounds me enough to not fly too close to the sun.

Bogoshipda (I miss you), and sarangheyo (I love you), Daddy.

Yours

Hina.