A FRIEND IN RAINY DAYS

A FRIEND IN RAINY DAYS

Anjum Naim

Asghar, my youngest son is the most precious stone in the treasure-trove of my memory. He was quite handsome, well behaved and studious. He passed the examination in flying colors and was promoted to fifth standard. One day, on his way back to home he brought a very feeble black colored kitten with two white stripes on her neck. Though I reserved any expressions of sentiments or comments but the whole household gave a red-carpet welcome to Asghar’s cat. My wife named it as Muezza, after the name of Prophet Muhammad’s beloved cat. She used to narrate that once Prophet’s beloved cat slept over his turban. It was time to go far prayer. He did not want to disturb the sleeping cat. So he cut his turban, apart and with the rest of it, he went out for the prayer. To Asghar, the cat was his sweetheart. A wild thought of disunion with it could disturb him. On the other hand, Muezza too could not brook his absence. Whenever Asghar was a bit late from school, she would become all eyes for her chum. She used to roll down at his feet. Asghar took here to his room, where he used to roll down at his feet. Asghar took her to his room, where he used to have a tête-à-tête with her. During his stay at home, family members would hear either Asghar’s burst of laughter or Muezza mews.

1999 was the most horrible year in my life, which brought tears and cries for me throughout. Asghar started experiencing pain in his knees in July, which aggravated quickly before the doctors could diagnose the disease. By August, he lost his voice and ability to swallow usual foods. However, he kept trying to smile so that I still cherish hopes. Muezza used to accompany him day in and day out. Her presence, in fact could reduce his agony and pain. After long and painful period of medical tests and diagnosis , doctors declared him a patient of Wilson Disease, which was curable only at its initial stages.

Now we were completely disappointed. He was inching towards his sad end. My wife, Shahnaz nursed him the whole day and it was my duty to look after him right from the evening up to late night. We had fixed our duty hours. The one and only which did not share her time was Muezza. Perhaps she loved her friend more than us. During complete four months of tension and heart rendering situations, we never saw Muezza left Asghar except for brief intervals spanning few minutes. She would sit silently, gazing Asghar’s face. She, perhaps, was in the know that her presence consoles him.
In the month of holy Ramadhan, on December 17, 1999, when we were about to break our fast, he left for the heavenly abode. During funeral rites, Muezza kept sitting beside the dead body. Whenever we looked each other, she mewed once or twice. Her voice seemed to be full of melancholy. I saw her moving with the funeral procession up to a distance. It might be the traditional 40 steps. The right of burial was the most horrible night for me. It was a night similar to all nights during the last four months, wit the exception that though Shahnaz, I and Muezza were there as usual but the crying and sobbing friend of Muezza was no more at his bed.”