International Father�s Day was observed on Sunday. In Bangladesh we named the day �Baba Dibas�. Here a daughter recalls the memories of her father who left her the legacy of love and values

International Father�s Day : A daughter walks down the memory lane

There was no name then of our house. But, now, when my memories go back through to my babyhood days, I realize that it should have had a name like... Home of Joy!!!
Physically or mentally, there were differences between our siblings. But in one matter, we were same. Naturally all of us were introverted, and very much fond of staying in home rather than going out. Home–was the best place for indoor games, watching TV, VCD or gossiping to each other. All siblings were treated as friends to each other. It was interesting that we had the same addiction to novels. In the 80s, there was a cine daily for my elder sisters, beside the daily Ittefaq and the weekly Bicitra. My father was also habituated to reading novel in his holidays.
Time! Oh time!! Time brings us together, united and happy. Time also separates us from the dearest ones. Twenty four years ago one of my brothers left the world at an unauspicious time. He was only a student of first year at Dhaka Medical College. His name was Saifuddin Ahmed Reza. Death of a son is the heaviest burden of sorrow for any father. My father was that destitute person who had to carry an ocean of pain from the losing of a loving son. Sometimes, at midnight my sleep had broken down for a humming sound from my parents room; I heard my fathers voice, “ where will I go to get him? ”. Our house was also named as `REZA NIBAS` in his memory.
In childhood, our parents make a world for us with their caring, love and affection. We grow up and a new world is created around us with our needs. But the memories of REZA NIBAS left our minds and the memories were largely centered on our father.
Celebrated people write about their fathers. All kinds of writings in newspaper I read very attentively. My father was not an eminent person, his no son or daughter is famous enough to spread his name. But, when we look back, we always feel the love of my father. He stands out from all others in passing on to us his great love for us as well as his values.
Alhaj Sultan Ahmed and Mrs. Sabera Begum are my parents’ names. They raised us with a much disciplined family ties. They gave up many pleasures considering the same as superfluous, but any
kind of educational expenditure had priority in our family budget. My parents always gave emphasis on mankind; so everyone of my family does believe to work for humanity.
I read from a book of Sankar that a father`s love towards a daughter is the most self-sacrificing  love. I am the youngest daughter of my parents. Sometimes I preferred emotional decisions than logic. My father was hurt, but responded with forgiveness. Always told me, `you are my youngest daughter, I pray to Allah for you`! Are all fathers around the world so forgiving as my father? I don’t know! I have a question to my favourite writer Sankar, did you write this sentence for my father?
We used to celebrate the festival in the day after Eid day. We four daughters used to go to our father’s home with our own families. There would be a gathering of 25-30 members at REZA NIBAS. Showkat, my elder brother, had a passion for photography since his tender age. In Eid day he liked to capture the events with his yashica camera.
Nowadays, there is digital camera instead of the ancient fixed lens yashica camera. It is also very much easy to capture the picture with mobile phone. So, always click, click, and click. No need to mention that the day was so much looked forward to by all of us. The day used to be mixed with gossiping and laughing. But, sometimes the absence of our youngest brother made us nostalgic and sad!
We liked to gift something special to our parents during Eid festival. I used to be enthralled when my father wore the panjabi (which I gifted him) in the next day of Eid and showed to others,`... this is from my Popu!` My father will never wear my gifted panjabi again!! The next day of Eid he will never wait for his daughters,-- Ranu, Dolly, Nilu....!!! My father will never question us with his endearing smile, `Have you come?`
Where I will go to see his face once again!!    
When I was waiting for the delivery of my son, my father prayed to Allah with tears and came to see the face of his grandson for the first time, in spite of his illness. One scenario flashes into my mind. I was a student of class six and was suffering from eye disease. We were going to an eye specialist at Chittagong city. We waited for train at Sitakund station. In the mean time, the train came by another rail line which was far away from us. My father took me up on the lap and crossed the lines swiftly! Another incident to mention. I was newly admitted to Chittagong University. Once I started for the university with my friends. My father was walking beside the window of the train. I was looking at the face of my father through the window. Gradually, his face went out of sight!!
It was raining in that night. I burst into tears! I was crying for my father, who was living at Sitakund. For the last one month I could not meet him due to staying at Cox`s Bazar which was my husband’s working place. Even then, I didn’t know that within a few months not to see my father again would be an everlasting source of grief for me.
Today is International Father’s Day. I saw a card left in a vacant bench of a botanical garden which says-- Missing you, Dad.
Overwhelmed with memories, my mind goes back to the Reza Nibas! A vacant easy chair. A diary, bengali dictionary, two pens with red and black colours are on the table behind the easy chair he used. Wall clock. A book. The Holy Quran, cap for prayer, etc. A cylinder of oxygen. A calendar just in front of the chair. The date 3rd April, 2012 remains marked in the calendar which was the day when my father died. These are preserved as my father’s memorabilia. Not only this year, no opportunity to gift you again in any fathers day! If I could just tell you one more time, ‘ My dear Baba, you are the best in the world, we love you! We love you very much.’

The writer is a contributor to The Independent

 

International Father�s Day was observed on Sunday. In Bangladesh we named the day �Baba Dibas�. Here a daughter recalls the memories of her father who left her the legacy of love and values

International Father�s Day : A daughter walks down the memory lane

There was no name then of our house. But, now, when my memories go back through to my babyhood days, I realize that it should have had a name like... Home of Joy!!! Physically or mentally, there were differences between our siblings. But in one matter, we were same. Naturally all of us were introverted, and very much fond of staying in home rather than going out. Homewas the best place for indoor games, watching TV, VCD or gossiping to each other. All siblings were treated as friends to each other. It was interesting that we had the same addiction to novels. In the 80s, there was a cine daily for my elder sisters, beside the daily Ittefaq and the weekly Bicitra. My father was also habituated to reading novel in his holidays. Time! Oh time!! Time brings us together, united and happy. Time also separates us from the dearest ones. Twenty four years ago one of my brothers left the world at an unauspicious time. He was only a student of first year at Dhaka Medical College. His name was Saifuddin Ahmed Reza. Death of a son is the heaviest burden of sorrow for any father. My father was that destitute person who had to carry an ocean of pain from the losing of a loving son. Sometimes, at midnight my sleep had broken down for a humming sound from my parents room; I heard my fathers voice, where will I go to get him? . Our house was also named as `REZA NIBAS` in his memory. In childhood, our parents make a world for us with their caring, love and affection. We grow up and a new world is created around us with our needs. But the memories of REZA NIBAS left our minds and the memories were largely centered on our father. Celebrated people write about their fathers. All kinds of writings in newspaper I read very attentively. My father was not an eminent person, his no son or daughter is famous enough to spread his name. But, when we look back, we always feel the love of my father. He stands out from all others in passing on to us his great love for us as well as his values. Alhaj Sultan Ahmed and Mrs. Sabera Begum are my parents names. They raised us with a much disciplined family ties. They gave up many pleasures considering the same as superfluous, but any kind of educational expenditure had priority in our family budget. My parents always gave emphasis on mankind; so everyone of my family does believe to work for humanity. I read from a book of Sankar that a father`s love towards a daughter is the most self-sacrificing love. I am the youngest daughter of my parents. Sometimes I preferred emotional decisions than logic. My father was hurt, but responded with forgiveness. Always told me, `you are my youngest daughter, I pray to Allah for you`! Are all fathers around the world so forgiving as my father? I dont know! I have a question to my favourite writer Sankar, did you write this sentence for my father? We used to celebrate the festival in the day after Eid day. We four daughters used to go to our fathers home with our own families. There would be a gathering of 25-30 members at REZA NIBAS. Showkat, my elder brother, had a passion for photography since his tender age. In Eid day he liked to capture the events with his yashica camera. Nowadays, there is digital camera instead of the ancient fixed lens yashica camera. It is also very much easy to capture the picture with mobile phone. So, always click, click, and click. No need to mention that the day was so much looked forward to by all of us. The day used to be mixed with gossiping and laughing. But, sometimes the absence of our youngest brother made us nostalgic and sad! We liked to gift something special to our parents during Eid festival. I used to be enthralled when my father wore the panjabi (which I gifted him) in the next day of Eid and showed to others,`... this is from my Popu!` My father will never wear my gifted panjabi again!! The next day of Eid he will never wait for his daughters,-- Ranu, Dolly, Nilu....!!! My father will never question us with his endearing smile, `Have you come?` Where I will go to see his face once again!! When I was waiting for the delivery of my son, my father prayed to Allah with tears and came to see the face of his grandson for the first time, in spite of his illness. One scenario flashes into my mind. I was a student of class six and was suffering from eye disease. We were going to an eye specialist at Chittagong city. We waited for train at Sitakund station. In the mean time, the train came by another rail line which was far away from us. My father took me up on the lap and crossed the lines swiftly! Another incident to mention. I was newly admitted to Chittagong University. Once I started for the university with my friends. My father was walking beside the window of the train. I was looking at the face of my father through the window. Gradually, his face went out of sight!! It was raining in that night. I burst into tears! I was crying for my father, who was living at Sitakund. For the last one month I could not meet him due to staying at Cox`s Bazar which was my husbands working place. Even then, I didnt know that within a few months not to see my father again would be an everlasting source of grief for me. Today is International Fathers Day. I saw a card left in a vacant bench of a botanical garden which says-- Missing you, Dad. Overwhelmed with memories, my mind goes back to the Reza Nibas! A vacant easy chair. A diary, bengali dictionary, two pens with red and black colours are on the table behind the easy chair he used. Wall clock. A book. The Holy Quran, cap for prayer, etc. A cylinder of oxygen. A calendar just in front of the chair. The date 3rd April, 2012 remains marked in the calendar which was the day when my father died. These are preserved as my fathers memorabilia. Not only this year, no opportunity to gift you again in any fathers day! If I could just tell you one more time, My dear Baba, you are the best in the world, we love you! We love you very much. The writer is a contributor to The Independent