Naila

She made me cry twice: first on her wedding and then at her funeral.

It was her Nikah in 1998 on Long Island in NY. When the Maulvi started going about the rituals and qabool hais, I started to cry uncontrollably. I have no idea why. It’s not like we lived together or were even in the same city at that time.

Yes we were close friends. Spent our tough and initial struggling times together, were almost room mates too for a while, ate together, worked together, had fun together. Discovered New York together; went to Niagra Falls for the first time; went to Taj Mahal Casino for the first time. Climbed up the Empire State and looked at the breath taking sky line together...my God...come to think of it...we did so much together. I have albums and albums of the four of us painting the town red.

I remember when we first went to get our social security card, we took a cab and I told them when we got off...‘mairay chacha kehtay haiN Taxi driver ko hamaisha tip dainy chahyay...is lyay we will have to give him at least 5 dollars’ all the rest looked at me and obeyed because I had a chacha who had experience. Later Naila used to pull my leg saying...‘in kay chacha nai hur cheez maiN hamrara teepa karaya thaa shroo shroo maiN’...

I remember first time she came to Houston, I picked her up from the airport and we went directly to the theatre district to see an Opera. I always wanted to see one but couldn’t phaNs a ‘murgha or murghi’ to go with me. It was in Spanish and awfully slow and depressing. Pehloo badal badal kai hum teeno...(ammee bhee) reh gayay. And whenever ammee moved her arms, her bangles would make the chun chun sound and the whole crowd would turn back and frown at us. At the interval I asked her, ’kia khayal hai phir? ghar chalaiN?’ She said, ’khuda kai wastay please.’ so we left during the interval... little did she know that the second time she would be back in Houston would be a permanent visit…to a cemetery.

First time I saw her, she was wearing yellow shalwar kamiz with black flowers and a hijab. She had a chumukta dumukta hua face with huge hazel green eyes and a smiling face.

Very soon she had the entire hospital wrapped around her finger and the main reason for it was her brilliant mind, her excellent clinician abilities, her smartness and intelligence. After all she was a position holder and always was in the top 10 during her College days. Many also were mesmerized by her beauty and innocence and her hijab.

She was one year junior to me in college. We had 500 students in each class so obviously I just remembered seeing her there but no recollection of even having an eye contact.

It was in NY where we spent 3 years together doing our residency. I remember how she cried biluk biluk kai when she couldn’t get into Cardiology fellowship. She wanted to do it real bad...why ? Because she had lost her father during a cardiac catheterization procedure in Pakistan. And no, it didn’t end there. Her mother was so devastated with that news that within 24 hrs...she had a cardiac event too and passed away...both parents gone within 24 hrs. She would always end up crying whenever she mentioned them.

She was persistent, she tried again next year and got into cardiology. She put her life and soul into it and was again the most popular and brilliant fellow around. She met her husband during her residency too. A gem of a guy. We all loved and respected him dearly.

At the end of residency we went our separate ways...but we talked nearly every week and met whenever we could. I remember flying in to NY one labour day weekend and staying with Naila. She took me from JFK to Mehdi Hasan’s function. It was fun !!

Then next day we went strolling on 42nd street with another friend and came to the 25 cents strip clubs. MaiN tau waheen jum gaee…I said I have to go and watch those… mainly because of the 25 cents. She jumped and ran away...saying vo dekho vo dekho...I said kaun hai...she pointed to a man...a desi. I said do you know him...she said no...pur he is a desi...kia sochay gaa…I said ‘kia pagul ho?’ Khair, she said she is not going in and preferred to wait outside for us. Me and another friend went in...what happened inside is a different story but when we came out...Naila said she was ready to call 911 as it took so much time...

Sigh...

I remember seeing her on her wedding day. She was glowing. Looking great. There were some 800 guests I am sure. We had a great time on her wedding.

She went on working hard and got her fellowship done. Had a son, and was living her life peacefully and quietly in a small town in New Mexico...when one day she called me to tell me that she had some abnormal liver tests and she is feeling quite sick. She got admitted but from then it was a downhill thing.

She got fulminant hepatic failure from unknown causes. She was flown to Dallas and was admitted in ICU. I flew down to see her.

She was unconscious and on the ventilator, waiting desperately for a liver transplant. She got one, but a little too late. She had developed brain damage by then.

Friends, family from all over the world flew down to see her, to pray for her, to pray for a miracle. But miracles are in short supply.

She became worse mentally and would get into one complication after another. She was bedridden for 2 years. Her mental status became that of a 2 year old. She couldn’t tell between her husband and her brother.

Her husband and her brother! Those two men devoted their next two and a half years to her. Their lives revolved around her. Feeding her, cleaning her, talking to her, entertaining her, making her sit, making her walk, changing her, brushing her hair... and she just lay there... saying...’pata nahi mujhay kia ho gaya hai...mujhay kuch yaad bhi nahi aata...’

This Thursday I got a phone call...another common friend telling me Naila had passed away. I was silent. I knew that would happen one day. I knew it was for the best. I knew she never wanted a life like that...but oh! what a waste...what did she do to deserve all that pain...

I cried...a lot.

She looked the same as she did before at her funeral. Except she had kafoor (camphor) on her face and she felt very cold. That was my first Namaz e Janaza. I looked at the crowd: 30 people maybe. Most of them didn’t know her well either. 800 at the wedding and 30 at the funeral.

How many would be there on my funeral? Does it really matter?

Her three year old son was playing, jumping, dancing all the time. He was only one year old when she got sick. For the last two years he had been seeing her in a vegetative state only. He didn’t know a thing. A very cute kid: what would his life be without the love of his mother?

So we had closure. We all wept, gave mitti to her qabar, talked about her, tried our best to share our sorrow and grief in every way. Hugged each other and then returned to our lives.

I feel different. The heart is still heavy. I guess some heaviness will always be a part of it now.

Good bye Naila. Have fun with ammee and abboo. Who knows…perhaps we will meet soon...good bye!