"My Two Hands"

"Eh Puttar Hatt'an Tey Nahin Vickdey

Toun Labdi Phirain Bazar Kurrey

Eh Dain Hey Merey Daata Di

Na Aviyan Tak'raan Maar Kurrey

Eh Puttar Vikaou Cheez Nahin

Mul Dey Key Jholi Pay'een Nee

Eh Aida Sasta Maal Nahin 

Kittoun Jaa Key Mang Liy'ai Nee

Eh Soada Naqad Vee Nahin Milda

Tou Labdi Phirain Udhaar Kurrey"

Hi Everyone,


The thought of eventually ending up with an empty nest never crossed my mind when I was raising my children. Being blessed with six beautiful children and getting hit with a 'tsunami' of in laws simultaneously kept me on my toes most of my life and more importantly, away from thinking too hard. 


In the summer of 1996 my oldest daughter Aalia left for college. Then every couple of years one of my children left home to follow their dreams, or rather, mine. I was never that panicky since I knew that this process would continue for a long, long time. Besides, I always had my baby son Hashim with me. I guess I was so very overwhelmed with my older kids that I never realized that he was growing up and catching up with his siblings just as fast when none of us was looking.


Hashim left for Washington DC in the summer of 2007 after being accepted to Georgetown University. My older son Haroon, who was already in Washington DC doing his Ophthalmology residency, packed him up and dropped him off at his dorm. I was so relieved that I didn't have to go since I knew I didn't have the heart to leave my prized possession there and come home empty handed.


 My life became tasteless and quite colorless. This was the first time the haunting feeling of having an empty nest sunk in and I really took it to heart. I lost my appetite and had trouble sleeping at night. One night I found a remedy to my sleeplessness. I walked into Hashim's room and grabbed his pillow, and put it next to me as a body pillow. I put my hands on it and went to sleep. Pretty soon this became a ritual for me. I would rub both of my hands on his pillow, take in the scent of my hands and I swear to God, I would smell my son's fragrance on them. I would then put them under my cheek and would go to sleep like a baby. Whenever I would wash my bedding, I wouldn't wash this pillow. I was afraid that if I threw it in the washing machine, freakin' Tide would take away my son's essence for sure.


After a few months, when the pillow became quite filthy, I got a little used to his absence as well. I decided to throw it in the wash cycle. The pillow was cleaned and smelled just like the fabric softener I used. I put the pillow back in his room since now I had no use for it. 


That night when I put both my hands under my cheek before I went to sleep, I still smelled my son on my hands. Then it dawned on me: My son's smell wasn't in the pillow, it was on my hands. A stream of tears started coming down my cheeks and I started kissing my both hands like a crazed person.


Why wouldn't they smell like my son? They held him tight when he came into this world, fed him, bathed him, changed him countless times, nourished him enough to turn a 21 inch baby into a 6'3 giant. They held him when he wasn't able to walk, bandaged his scratched knee, touched his eyes, then kissed them every time he went to sleep. They picked him up after each and every fall, hugged him when he needed one, and even when he didn't, protected him from all the evils of this world and above all raised them up five times a day to Almighty Allah to beg everything a mother could ask for her son.  


The next morning I looked at my hands, like really looked at them for the first time. This set of hands was the most beautiful and powerful thing I had ever laid eyes on........ they were the hands of an artist. Although Allah had created my son, my two hands had unbelievable strength and enough creativity to sculpt a helpless little baby boy into a beautiful young man, to mold and shape him the way my heart desired, to engrave ethics, values and scruples in his mind, to put care, compassion and empathy in his heart.


 These two bare hands paved the road to his success, knocking down road blocks, bled while picking up thorns from the path of his life, and ironically these two very hands that would shield him from the world pushed him into the same world to make a life for himself.




Much Love, 
Shehla