Azam Ali, An Ahmadi Moslem
Chapter 12
Legend in his own Lifetime
Father was nearly 79 years old in 1979 when for the last time he visited my family in Rosebud, Missouri. He arrived at the St Louis Lambert Airport in European coat and pants but changed into Pakistani garments shulwar, qamees, topi and a blanket as soon as he got home.
He was very frail. On our asking he told us that he did not eat anything on the plane. He had last eaten at the house of my youngest brother Majid Ali in New Jersey. He had not eaten anything for several hours because he was not sure what kind of food was offered in the airport waiting areas or in the plane during the flight.
We insisted that he ate something right away because we lived in Rosebud that was about ninety minutes’ drive from the airport. Father agreed to if we could get him hot milk and cookies not made with lard because he wanted to ensure that we comply with God’s command.
Hoor-ray-ma alai ko-mo ol-mai-ta-ta waud-da-ma wa lauh-ma ul-khin-zee-ray سُوۡرَةُ البَقَرَة – Ch: 2, Verse 174 Prohibited upon you is the Dead and the Blood and the Flesh of swine. 002:174
We went to the nearest McDonalds located on North Lindbergh Blvd. We requested hot milk and cookies not made with lard. At that time Father’s eyesight was very weak. He wanted assurance that only vegetable oil was used to bake the cookies he ate with his hot milk.
He asked me to verify that cookies had no lard in them. I did the needful. Then one after the other our children read the ingredient panel of the cookie box – partly because Aba Ji asked them to do so to educate them of what was right and partly because of their own curiosity.
Father, my wife, our four kids and I were seven in our group. Restaurant customers noticed the commotion first at the counter where we talked to the manager and then at our table where we sat. Two Europeans from the next table walked up to Father. With visible hesitation and excitement, they requested Father for a handshake and then for a hug, saying it was the first time in their lifetime they met a Living Saint. Yes, that was our father, Ch: Azam Ali.
Moslem Boy
Maybe Father intending to teach my children luckily found the right opportunity. This unobtrusively created situation became a real chance for us all to see that no matter where one happened to be, one could ask for and should get info about the food and scan for its cleanliness before eating it. I’m sure he would be pleased with another result of his training that followed.
All my life I saw my Father’s nature to never miss a chance to passionately teach and train anyone, any time, any place. At the time of the above incident our youngest son (Shahid A. Buttar, Esquire) was just 5. A few months later in winter Shahid’sThe kindergarten teacher asked him if he celebrated Christmas. He replied, “We don’t eat pork; I’m a Moslem boy.”
Watch what you eat
Nearly one-half century earlier in the fall of 1949, Father went on an inspection tour in connection with his job as Senior Civil Judge. He took with him his 3 teenager sons. I was 13. My half-brother Imtiaz was 12½. My younger brother Hamid was 11½.
We stayed behind in the Rest House when Father went for his work. We had lots of fun climbing up and down the hills near the Rest house like kids that age do when all by themselves. We were extremely hungry by the time Father returned after work, but he planned for us to climb one more hill. Finally, we reached the place where food awaited, and we were famished.
It was a small hut at the south of Attock Bridge. Roof was wild reeds. We had ‘dal’ (lentils) curry with fried fish freshly caught from the river a few-minutes’ walk down below. We sat on a wooden bench facing a small stool with our food. Abba Ji’s words still echo in my ears – thanking God for such a clean food, cooked so specially, served so simply.
Middle of nowhere and nothing around for miles that was the only place where we could eat. No Hilton or Intercontinental around, but the taste of that curry and fish is still fresh and better than all the other foods I have had in many 5-star hotels and restaurants around the world.
In 1965, driving a Beetle Volkswagen from Peshawar to Rawalpindi I wanted to visit that spot at the south end of Attock Bridge. But a flat tire interrupted the plan. I was struggling to change the flattened tire with the spare in car when a big truck stopped by.
The truck drivers changed the tire in no time as we chatted. As a courtesy they refused money for the service. I can’t say they knew Father. They left us advising my wife to cover jewelry on wrists:“Everybody don’t know that you are the daughter-in-law of so great a Judge.”
1967 was the last time I passed that south end of the Attock Bridge. I wanted to eat fried fish freshly caught there. This was my third and last overland driving trip between England and Pakistan. This time we drove nearly 10,000 miles taking northern roads in Iran and Afghanistan of rough terrain, often with no road but just stones travelled and trampled over by many like us.
I drove a Zephyr with my wife and two sons, aged 21 mo and 9 mo. My sister-in-law drove Hillman Imp with her niece, mother and help Jugno. The timing didn’t permit us to stop but I said that someday I’d like to take them there and refresh my memory of Father’s words.
Near to that dream during the life of Father was when we bought fish in Herman (above photo) caught from Missouri River and cooked for him at our home in Rosebud. Mo. But Now the American invasion of Iraq and events in Afghanistan have made those roads and routes, gems of unsurpassed beauty, outside the reach of peacefully travelling citizens of the world. My children enjoying economic statuses and comfortable lives may never see that simple place where Father while having simple food had most wonderfully expressed thanks to the Almighty.
Legend in his own lifetime
Father was an ordinary human born to a farmer family. But his hard work and honest ways gave him the habit of always working persistently, always going the extra mile, always outshining his own previous performance. He became a legend in his own lifetime by practically illustrating another rule.
Nae-ma uj-ro ol-aa-may-leen سُوۡرَةُ آل عِمرَان – Ch: 003, Verse 137 & سُوۡرَةُ الزُّمَر – Ch: 039, Verse 075 The best rewards are for those who act. 003:137 & 039:075
Abba Ji’s and his children’s names were copied by other mothers in our village Kirto when they named their children, hoping and praying that they would emulate some of our Father’s greatness.
Father’s co-villagers yearned to be near him to gain from his temporal and spiritual knowledge. His colleagues sought suggestions regarding complicated issues of law and order. Even strangers came and asked for the benefits of his nearness to God by requesting for prayers.
For example, he was visited by the parents of a sick, dying girl with a terminal disease. Doctors finally discharged the kid from hospital and sent her home to die as they knew no cure. Father prayed to God Almighty for child’s recovery as “a proof to her parents the manifestation of Mirza Ghulam Ahmad of Qadian as Mehdi and Promised Messiah, a. s.” Yes, God Almighty graciously restored full health to the kid. I believe she lived long enough to be a grandmother.
Abba Ji generously obliged anyone who came to him and requested advice and help. He gladly shared with anyone to try the time-tested methodology by beseeching God Almighty with a prayer and receive results usually far better than the requested. He pointed out that God Almighty had Himself urged all to try His following guarantee.
O-jee-bo dau-wa-tay id-daa-aiy ezaa da-aa-nay سُوۡرَةُ البَقَرَة – Ch: 002, Verse 187 I accept the caller when he calls Me 002:187
Practicing all above and other rules laid out in the Holy Qor-aan was what turned my father from an ordinary person at the time of his birth into an extraordinary person by the time of his death. Thank GOD, He made me a son of this great Achiever, Go-getter, Grateful, Legend in his own lifetime and Peacemaker.
