Three years ago I was going through surviving the tenth heart attack. It is because of the blessings of Allah Almighty, and following the AFIC and PANAH guidelines, that I am still alive despite having had two bypass operations and two stents, and even having gone through an ischemic brain stroke.
My parents and two brothers died of heart attack, but luckily enough I kept surviving.
I was in CCU. Terribly depressed for the last time, I was admitted in hospital. My wife was there. The dutiful nursing officer walked in and said, “You’ve offered Isha prayers, so please sleep.” “NO,” I said, “Tahajjud first and then, please put the lights off.” It was 12 a.m. midnight.
I sat on the bed and went through two cycles of Tahajjud, off went the lights, I prostrated down, saying “Allah, Allah”. Had a look at PANAH office through the window, it was all dark everywhere.
Something flew out of my heart. I thought ‘Nafs e Ammara’ might have gone. Good ‘Nafs e Mutma’inna’ is still there. I thought, and then closed my eyes expecting the arch angel, Israel (AS), with my posting orders.
Since my brain and body are no more fit for further Jihad in this world, I’m only existing; the good doctors and staff know how not to allow the patients get posted so easily. Some lady passed through the window. I thought she must be the woman dearest to me. How come it is not my wife Ambreen?
Off she went across the channel and sat in front of everyone. I had never seen my mother at that young age and so pretty. I stood up wearing my favorite red shirt. Somebody in a golden robe stood behind my right shoulders along with three other young men. On my left stood another golden robed person with three men dressed alike.
Ami Jan, I shouted why have you left me this side of channel. She called me by my nick name and said stay back; where is Abba Jan; there he is in the first row behind her, Abba Jan smiled. He too looked different, tall like my Shaheed grandfather who was in Muslim Punjabi Company of 7 FF by the Bosporus and going towards the brother Turks to fight against the British, and, therefore dismissed and sentenced to death for being a traitor to the British masters.
I saw the President PANAH Maj Gen Masud-ur-Rehman Kiani (retd) behind my father. He was pulling himself towards his right. I wanted to ask more questions, particularly of my two soldier brothers Air Commodore Raees Ahmed Rafi (SJ) and Lt Waheed Kayani. Suddenly, the lights were put on. Then it was nurse Hamida Bano and Lt Raja, Col Ashiq and Maj Vaqar who entered.
“Is it time for Fajr?” I asked. “Sir, you were talking in dream.” I asked, “Did you hear what I said?” “Yes, all of us heard it, you are fine, Sir?” “Ok, just get me up towards the washroom, I think it’s Fajr time.” I started my prayers, the angel on my right shouted, “Multiply with the 1000 of Layla tul Qadr, and 50,000 prayers in the Kaba.
Finally, he said, 17 Haj visits and after each of it no sins committed. I asked for going home, “I think I’m Ok.” “You’ll first go to the officers ward, and then will be discharged,” said the duty nurse. I said, “I’m an old soldier of pre-1965 vintage. I’ll follow the rules, so do it. Beti, get the papers ready. I’ve seen the best lady in my life – none else but my own dear mother. I remember her telling me, in 1965, “Beta you are very “ladla” to me, obviously because you are my son but remember those who die in battlefield, reach the Hereafter without any kind of ‘audit’.”
(Receiving my mother at Jhelum Railway station after her coming back home from Haj. My son (on my left) “put your chin on my shoulder, put your head next to mine”)