By Shahnawaz Ahmad Ansari

“Death is an ultimate truth, but no truth prepares a son for the absence of his father.”

बाप सिर्फ़ एक रिश्ता नहीं होता,
वह ज़िंदगी का पहला उस्ताद और रेहनुमा होता है।

There are truths in life we all grow up hearing: that death is inevitable, that every soul must return to its creator. But no one ever teaches a son how to breathe on the day his father’s breath stops. On December 24, 2018, when my father, Dr Jalil Ahmad Ansari, left us in a tragic road accident, stealing the ground from beneath our feet, I realise that while death is a truth, the departure of a father is an endurance. It is a melancholy that does not fade; it merely settles into the bones. No matter how grey my own hair turns, or how many responsibilities I shoulder, the heart remains a small child, perpetually seeking the patronage of my father at every turn of life’s trials and tribulations.

Seven years have passed. During calendar years, it is a considerable amount of time. In a son’s heart, it is still that same stunned evening, replaying itself quietly behind the eyes.

I am a father now—of two sons—and yet, how incomplete I feel without you. There are moments when I look at my children and instinctively turn inward, seeking your guidance. I imagine asking you, “Abba, am I doing this right?” And then I remember—you are no longer here in the flesh, only in memory, in conscience, in the values you planted deep within me.

जब भी दुनिया के बाजार में ईमान बिकता देखता हूँ,
मैं आपकी यादों का तावीज़ पहन लेता हूँ।

Abba, I miss you even more in this age of materialism, where truth is mocked, and integrity is mistaken for foolishness. I walk a path you taught me—of honesty, spontaneity, and moral courage—and the world often punishes me for it. I am belittled for not being shrewd and sidelined for not being clever enough to manipulate. But every insult I bear feels insignificant compared to your teachings. I endure because you taught me that truth does not always reward immediately—but it redeems eternally.

Abba, I often look at the state of the medical profession today—and I am shaken. There was a time when doctors were considered demi-gods: healers who combined knowledge with compassion and science with conscience. Today, too often, I see the opposite: medicine turning into a marketplace, doctors into corporate executives, and hospitals into profit centres. The noble Hippocratic oath is fading behind rate cards and targets. Many have become, in the harshest yet truest sense, qualified businessmen.

In these moments, I travel back in time and remember your practice—rooted in ethics, humility, and the Hippocratic oath. You never compromised. You chose principles over prosperity, even when it put us in financial difficulty. At the time, we felt the strain. Today, we feel immense pride. You taught us that character is more valuable than comfort and legacy more important than luxury.

This seventh memorial year, 2025, has been especially heavy, as three major events unfolded in your absence. On 25th January 2025, your eldest brother, our Abba Ji, Abdul Rashid (Bade Babu), returned to his Lord at the age of 98. Another towering pillar of the family was gone. On 18th February, it was 50 years—half a century—since the passing of your father and our grandfather, the great Abdur Rahim (Babu). I had dreamt of marking this milestone: a small souvenir, a gathering of near and dear ones, and stories and memories captured for the next generation. I wanted to honour Dada Ji’s memory in a way worthy of him—and, through that, honour you as his son. But it didn’t happen, as Abba Ji’s passing so close to that date meant we couldn’t observe what I had planned, characterising the testament: ‘Man proposes, God disposes.’

And then, amidst this sadness, came a moment of happiness: your third son, Zahid, an officer in the Government of Bihar, got married this year. It was a day that should have been lit by your smile. Your absence was felt by everyone—but most sharply by me. As your eldest son, I had to stand in your place—smiling before the world while breaking within.

बाप की कमी लफ़्ज़ों में बयान नहीं होती,
ये वो खला है जो हर खुशी के साथ चलती है।

Your dua, Abba, has always been our shield. I believe it still protects us. You loved grandchildren. It was almost as if God had placed a special softness in your heart for them. Today, you have four grandsons: Zayan, Shayan, Zohaib and Asad. Unfortunately, the two grandsons – Zohaib and Asad never met your lap; they missed a grandfather they deserved to grow up with.

Your youngest son, Aamir (Sonu), especially needs your dua at this point in time. He is seeking the right direction, to find his footing, to settle, and to begin a new chapter in life, marked by the responsibility of marriage. I say his name in my prayers, and in my imagination, I see you raise your hands too, asking God to show him the right path, to make his journey easy and honourable. Please, Abba, keep showering your duas upon him. Guide him, as only a father’s unseen hand can guide.

For me, your dua was always something I could almost feel—like a soft light on my back. I am sorry—painfully sorry—that I could not fulfil some of the dreams you had for me: You wanted to see me as a civil servant, to watch me earn a doctorate (PhD). Life took its turns, and I could not become what you had envisioned.

But God is kind. What I could not achieve, your third son, Zahid, has partly fulfilled by cracking the Bihar Civil Services exam. It may not be IAS—the post you glorified in your conversations and in your hopes—but it is still a testimony to your faith in us.

And maybe, Abba, the story is not over yet. Perhaps what you dreamt for me will bloom in your grandchildren. Possibly one day, they will walk into your silent room in our memories wearing the badge you loved so much, and we will whisper, “Abba’s dua has finally arrived.”

Seven years after that tragic road accident, the pain has not vanished. It has simply changed shape. It has melted into memory, turned into quiet prayers, into a constant longing that sits in a corner of every happiness.

Abba, you are not here to read these words. But I write them as if you are sitting in front of me, leaning slightly forward, listening with that familiar mix of seriousness and soft amusement:

• I miss you every single day.
• I am proud to be your son.
• I am trying—imperfectly, but sincerely—to live by the values you bled for.
• I am raising your grandsons with your name on my tongue and your principles in my heart.

May God grant you the highest place in paradise. May he make your grave a garden of peace. May your duas continue to be the invisible roof under which we live, stumble, rise, and try again.

You may not be here, but you live in my spine, my choices, and my resistance to compromise.

अब्बा चले गए, मगर उनकी रूह हर कदम साथ चलती है,
वो सिर्फ़ यादों में नहीं, मेरी हर सांस में बसती है।

Your dearest son

SHAHNAWAZ

– Remembering my father, my first hero, my forever shadow

By Shahnawaz Ahmad Ansari

I walk beneath the sky you left behind,
A silence louder than words, kind yet blind.
In every heartbeat, your echoes stay—
Unseen, unheard, yet never far away.

“The father is a mirror in which a child first sees the reflection of strength, sacrifice, and silence.”
 

As I sit down to write on Father’s Day 2025, my heart brims with a strange combination of warmth, grief, and longing. For many, Father’s Day is a celebration. For me, it is remembrance—of a man whose presence once defined my world and whose absence now defines the void within.

My dad (Abba), a humble and honest physician, left us in December 2018. It feels like yesterday, and yet every day since has been coloured by the ache of his absence. Some wounds never heal; they simply become part of who you are.

He was not just my father—he was the moral compass of our family, a man who spoke little but whose few words held oceans of wisdom. Bound by the Hippocratic oath, he practised medicine with integrity and lived life with dignity. Now that I am a father of two kids myself, I understand the magnitude of what it takes to be a man like him—a provider, a protector, a silent guide.

I often thought a father was like the roof of the house—sheltering and protective. But life without him has taught me: a father is the sky—vast, silent, ever-present, and irreplaceable. When the roof is gone, you rebuild. But when the sky disappears, the entire world feels disoriented.

The melancholy sharpened when my younger brother Zahid cracked the Bihar Civil Services in 2021—an achievement my father had always dreamed of witnessing. He revered civil service and often told us that serving the people was the noblest way to live. Zahid lived his dream, but Abba wasn’t there to see it. The moment felt like a celebration in monochrome—joy drained of its fullness.

That melancholy returned recently, when in May 2025, Zahid got married. The first marriage in our family without our Abba. As the eldest of my siblings, I carried the burden of joy and sorrow together. I smiled for the world, but wept within. In his absence, I realised—no ritual, no festivity feels complete when your sky is missing.

Now in my 40s, I still instinctively look for him for his concise but consolidated advice, for his approving nod, and for his quiet strength. I speak too much; he said just enough. Yet his few words often outweighed my many. His absence isn’t just a gap in our family—it is an unfilled space in my soul.

From the Qur’an’s command to honour parents to the Bible’s reminder that a father’s discipline leads to wisdom…
From the Gita’s portrayal of Dharma inherited through generations to the Torah’s reverence for paternal blessing…
From the Ramayana’s pain of Ram’s exile due to his obedience to his father to the Zend Avesta’s exaltation of familial duty…
—Every spiritual text recognises the sacred stature of a father. He is the first moral teacher, the first shadow we walk in, and the first silence we understand.

Even the Vedas remind us: “Pitri devo bhava”—treat your father as God.

I now appeal to everyone reading this—if your father is still with you, don’t wait for a specific day to thank him. Every day you breathe is because he once bore the storms for you. Spend time with him, listen to him, respect him, and cherish him—because one day, only memories will remain, and trust me, they don’t hug you back.

Today, as I pay tribute to my father, I also bow my head in grief and solidarity for all those fathers who lost their lives in the recent tragic air crash in Gujarat that happened on June 12, 2025. Their children, like me, will now live with an absence that repeats forever. I extend heartfelt condolences to every family mourning today. May their souls rest in eternal peace, and may their legacy live on in their children’s lives.

As I close, I remember one of my father’s most enduring lessons: “Be honest, even when no one is watching. Your conscience is your highest judge.”

And today, my conscience reminds me that I was loved by a great man, raised by a silent warrior, and guided by a presence who still watches me—from the sky he now belongs to.

Happy Father’s Day, Abba.
You are not just remembered—you are felt every single day.

Your dearest son,
SHAHNAWAZ

By Shahnawaz Ahmad Ansari

Dedicated to my mother

Mother’s Day isn’t just a date on the calendar; it is a day that glows with countless emotions, each reflecting a unique aspect of the profound bond between a mother and her child.

Close your eyes. Imagine the hushed stillness of a starry night. A melody, soft as a whisper, caresses your ears. It’s a lullaby, a song of love sung by a voice that knows your soul. This, my friends, is the essence of motherhood – a connection that surpasses the physical, a bond woven from the very fabric of being. As Maya Angelou so eloquently described, “To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power.” A mother, a force both fierce and gentle, a storm of love that shapes our lives forever.

From the scientific lens, a mother is the first environment, the original ecosystem that nurtures a new life. Her heartbeat is the first music a child hears, her voice the first melody. Science tells us of the genetic legacy she bestows, of the traits and whispers of ancestors carried forward. But beyond chromosomes and DNA, there is an intangible inheritance—a legacy of love, resilience, and spirit.

Religiously, a mother’s value is immeasurable. Across religions and cultures, mothers hold a sacred space. In Hinduism, the Vedas depict the mother as a manifestation of the divine feminine – Durga, the protector, and Lakshmi, the bestower of prosperity. The Bhagavad Gita famously states, “Matru devo bhava (Revere your mother as God).

Buddhism speaks of a mother’s love as the closest thing to unconditional love, and Sikhism preaches respect and care for mothers as paramount. Similarly, Christianity reveres Mary, the mother of Jesus, as the epitome of maternal love and sacrifice. Islam emphasizes the importance of honouring one’s mother, with Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) saying, “Paradise lies at the feet of mothers.” Every faith holds her in high esteem, for she is the creator of leaders, thinkers, and believers.

Moreover, religion is not the sole source of the mother’s significance. Everyone – philosophers, thinkers, scientists, poets, and litterateur geniuses across time have recognized her as the cornerstone of society. Mencius, the Chinese philosopher, believed, “The mother is the root, the son is the branch.”

John Locke, the English philosopher, wrote, “A child’s first place of learning is its mother’s lap.” Eminent poet – John Milton, in “Paradise Lost,” depicts mothers as symbols of comfort and security. William Shakespeare, in “King Henry V,” emphasizes a mother’s profound influence, and in “Romeo and Juliet,” he likens nature’s nurturing aspect of motherhood.

A mother’s love, however, defies definitions. It’s a symphony of countless acts, big and small. It’s the sleepless nights spent cradling a feverish child, the gentle hand that wipes away a tear, the unwavering belief that fuels a child’s dream. Mothers are chefs, and magicians transforming bland vegetables into culinary delights. They are cheerleaders, their loudest applause reserved for their child’s victories. They are confidantes, offering a safe harbour for whispered secrets and teenage angst.

Imagine the brilliance of Marie Curie, a mother who unravelled the secrets of radioactivity, cradling her child while conducting groundbreaking research. Her story shatters the myth that motherhood confines a woman to the walls of a home. It’s a testament to the boundless capacity of a mother’s spirit.

Great leaders, too, have acknowledged this profound influence. Abraham Lincoln, the towering figure who steered America through its darkest hour, credited his mother for his very success. Mahatma Gandhi said, “Mother is the child’s first teacher. The message she gives the child, the child gives to the world.”

Similarly, Napoleon Bonaparte, the emperor who reshaped Europe, believed the fate of a child was forever intertwined with the mother’s hand that guided it. He famously declared, “Give me an educated mother, I shall promise you the birth of a civilized, educated nation.” Mothers shape nations and history. These words paint a powerful picture – mothers as the architects, not just of families, but of entire societies.  

In India, mothers play a crucial role in shaping families, communities, and the nation. They teach important values like tolerance and compassion, which are vital for a strong democracy. Modern Indian mothers are not just homemakers; they are also professionals, breaking stereotypes and raising children who are both global and traditional.

Despite their many roles, mothers often sacrifice their own needs. They may eat cold meals, delay their dreams, or pause their careers, all for their families. These sacrifices are the unseen part of motherhood.

A mother is not just a woman who gives birth. She is the architect of life, the builder of dreams, the unwavering pillar of strength, and the fount of unconditional love. She is the very essence of “Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam” – the world is one family. And in her selfless love lies the potential to create a world filled with compassion, empathy, and understanding. Let us strive to be worthy of this love, let us honour the mothers who have made us who we are, and let us carry forward the legacy of their love to build a brighter future for generations to come.   

This Mother’s Day, let us take a moment to acknowledge the immensity of this role. Let us celebrate the mothers who make us who we are. Let us not wait for a designated day to express our love and gratitude. Let us remember the countless, silent sacrifices they make, the unwavering faith they hold in us, and the unconditional love that shapes our lives. Let us shower them with affection, not just today, but every day. Let us pledge to recognize the divine in every mother’s heart, to see the messiah in her actions, and to follow the path of goodness she has laid before us. For in doing so, we honour not just our mothers, but the very essence of humanity itself.

By Shahnawaz Ahmad Ansari

April 14th marks the birth anniversary of one of the great sons of India, Baba Saheb Dr. Bhimrao Ambedkar, a man whose life and legacy are woven into the very fabric of our nation, whose life journey resonates deeply with the struggles and triumphs of the underprivileged sections of society. His indomitable spirit and relentless struggle against social discrimination and inequality have left an indelible mark on Indian society. Beyond being a day of remembrance, Dr. Ambedkar Jayanti serves as a platform to propagate his messages of equality, justice, and empowerment to the masses.

With a visionary zeal that spanned decades, Dr. Ambedkar relentlessly fought against discrimination to shape a more equitable and just society for all. He wasn’t just a politician or a scholar; he was a revolutionary, a messiah for the hated, and the architect of a modern, inclusive India.

His story is a testament to the unwavering human spirit in the face of immense adversity. Born into a Dalit family on April 14, 1891, in the Mhow Army Cantonment, Central Provinces (present-day Madhya Pradesh) disliked by the caste system, Dr. Ambedkar’s early life was a constant battle against prejudice, marked by discrimination, segregation, and untouchability due to his family’s low caste status. Segregation wasn’t just social; it permeated his education. He was forced to sit outside classrooms, denied access to drinking water from common wells and hated by his peers. Yet, his thirst for knowledge remained unquenched. Despite these challenges, he embarked on an academic journey that would shape his destiny and the destiny of millions.

He devoured books under flickering lamplight, his determination fuelled by a burning desire to break free from the shackles of his birth. Education became his weapon. He scaled academic heights, earning doctorates from prestigious universities abroad. But his triumphs were personal victories in a system that continued to discriminate. His brilliance couldn’t shield him from the sting of untouchability.

Dr. Ambedkar dedicated his life to dismantling the caste system and empowering the downtrodden. He championed the cause of the Dalits, then referred to as “untouchables.” He fought tirelessly for their rights, organizing protests, advocating for social reforms, and even burning copies of Manu Smriti, a text that sanctioned caste discrimination.

His greatest contribution, however, lies in the Indian Constitution. As the chairman of the drafting committee, Dr. Ambedkar played a pivotal role in crafting the document that defines the soul of our nation. The Constitution, with its emphasis on equality, liberty, and fraternity, became a guiding light of hope for millions marginalized by the caste system.

Dr. Ambedkar wasn’t just concerned with social justice; he was a staunch advocate for women’s empowerment. He believed that true social progress could only be achieved when women were educated and empowered. He championed their right to education and inheritance, paving the way for a more equitable society.

His vision surpassed religious boundaries. A fierce critic of blind faith, Dr. Ambedkar embraced Buddhism, seeking refuge in a religion that emphasized reason and equality. This decision reflected his secular outlook, a stark contrast to the religious divides plaguing India today.

Dr. Ambedkar wouldn’t shy away from criticizing the current state of affairs. He, who fought tirelessly to protect the Constitution, would be deeply troubled by attempts to alter its core principles. His soul would ache for a nation teetering on the edge of religious and social discord.

Were he alive today, Dr. Ambedkar wouldn’t advocate for violence or division. He would, with his characteristic eloquence, urge us to return to the core principles enshrined in the Constitution. He would remind us of the dream of an India where caste, religion, or birthplace don’t define one’s destiny.

Dr. Ambedkar’s vision for India remains incomplete. While reservations have uplifted many Dalits, millions still face discrimination. Educational opportunities haven’t reached every corner of the country.

Dr. Ambedkar’s message to us is clear: The fight for equality is an ongoing struggle. We must work together, across castes, religions, and social strata, to realize his dream of a truly inclusive India. His legacy isn’t confined to history books; it’s a call to action, a reminder that a just and equitable society is a work in progress, a dream we must collectively pursue.

On this auspicious day, let us rekindle the spirit of Dr.  Ambedkar, a guiding light in the quest for a more inclusive, just, and compassionate India. His life’s work serves as a beacon of hope, urging us to uphold the values of equality, secularism, and social harmony that define our nation’s identity.

Let us march forward, carrying the torch of Dr. Ambedkar’s vision, towards a future where every individual is valued, every voice heard, and every dream realized – for he, indeed, remains the messiah of modern India, a champion of the oppressed, and a harbinger of change. 

Let us honour Dr. Ambedkar not just with speeches and parades, but by actively dismantling the walls of prejudice and discrimination. Let us build an India where every citizen, regardless of background, can reach their full potential. This is the truest tribute we can pay to the man who drafted a dream.

By Shahnawaz Ahmad Ansari

In the intricate journey of life, woven with threads of joy and sorrow, there exist moments that stand as enduring pillars of wisdom and guidance. Today, as I pen down this tribute on the fifth anniversary of my father’s passing, I find solace in the memories that resonate with his timeless TWO-FOLD statement: “1. STRIVE TO BE A GOOD HUMAN; 2. ALWAYS SEEK HAPPINESS, REGARDLESS OF CIRCUMSTANCE.” These words transcend mere aphorisms; they are guiding lights that navigate me through life’s turbulent waters. When I share these profound statements with others, I am met with nods of acknowledgement – a testament to the intellectual legacy my father left behind.

A Fateful Winter Day

It was the chilling winter of December 24, 2018, when destiny took an unexpected turn. My father (Dr Jalil Ahmad Ansari), a man of simplicity, gentleness, and sagacity, embarked on his heavenly abode. After offering his afternoon prayer, having lunch, and strolling the path he loved alongside the trees he nurtured, little did we know that his earthly chapter would abruptly close, just 50 meters away from his cherished horticulture plot. A collision (accident) with an unknown vehicle, witnessed by none, marked the sudden end of his earthly sojourn, ushering him into the realms of eternity.

A seasoned physician and a devotee of the Hippocratic oath, my father departed unexpectedly, catching us in the unprepared grip of sorrow, and leaving behind a legacy of kindness and wisdom. His presence was more than a mere physical form; it was a guiding force that shielded us from life’s adversities. As the years pass, the void left by his departure becomes increasingly apparent. For five years, his absence has been a palpable ache, underlining the irreplaceable role he played in our lives.

In the quiet strength of his taciturn nature, my father imparted lessons that transcend time. His economy of words held profound messages, and concealed a depth of thought; each sentence was a treasure trove of wisdom, akin to a page in the book of life. His legacy transcends the temporal, manifesting in the lessons he imparted and the principles he lived by. An advocate of simplicity, sobriety, gentleness, and sagacity, he was a revered figure in the eyes of those who crossed his path.

As his dearest lad, he often asserted that I carry forward the traits of my late grandfather – a man of illustrious character and a polymath of varied wisdom. I don’t know how much I inherit from my ICONIC GRANDFATHER, but if it turns out to be 1%, it would be a wonderful gift to me for my worldly being.

The Path to Mediocrity and Perseverance

He was more than a father. Through his teachings, my father illuminated the path to mediocrity and perseverance. He would counsel in the face of adversity, “When you suffer from an inferiority complex, look at those who find happiness with fewer resources than you. Strive to surpass those around you, but don’t succumb to disappointment due to limited resources.” His lessons transcend the mundane, offering solace and strength in adversity.

Even in his absence, the resonance of his wisdom lingers. As the custodian of our family’s history, his ancestral pride and storytelling of our clan’s history painted a vivid picture of our roots. As I strive to follow in his footsteps amidst the challenges of materialism, I hold dear his two-fold statement as an epic guiding my way – to be a good human and to find happiness in all circumstances.

Now, FIVE YEARS since his departure, I find myself yearning for the reassuring presence of his wisdom. My father, a man of high intellect and wisdom, understood the reality of life, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those fortunate enough to know him. His teachings resonate in every decision I make. His memory is not a faded photograph but a vibrant mural that continues to inspire and shape my journey.

A Tribute Beyond Time

This tribute is more than words on a page; it’s an ode to a father who, even in death, remains an inspiration. As I navigate the complexities of life, I carry forward his legacy of being a good human and finding happiness in every circumstance. May this tribute stand as a testament to the enduring spirit of a father’s love and wisdom, eternally alive in the hearts of those he touched. As I navigate the complexities of existence, I carry his two-fold mantra like a cherished heirloom, a testament to a father’s enduring impact on his son’s soul.

MAY MY BELOVED DEPARTED FATHER’S ESSENCE FIND ETERNAL SERENITY IN THE BOUNDLESS TRANQUILLITY OF THE EVERLASTING.

As a fond admirer of poetry, I wish to present my tribute in the form of poetry as well. My couplets are below for your reading:

Revered Tribute: Dad’s Fifth Memorial Wisdom

A collision of fate, a bitter decree,

Took him away, just 50 meters from glee.

In simplicity, gentleness, and sagacity, he reigned,

Leaving us in a world forever changed.

A physician by trade, a sage by heart,

He departed abruptly; life’s script was torn apart.

His wisdom, an inspiration in the darkest of nights,

Guiding us through life’s tumultuous heights.

In quiet strength, his lessons were told,

A treasury of wisdom, more precious than gold.

Economy of words, yet profound depth,

Each sentence was a gem, wisdom-bound.

More than a father, a guiding force,

His absence, a void, an enduring remorse.

“Carry forward,” he said, “your grandfather’s grace,

Inherit his character, let wisdom embrace.”

An iconic grandfather, a polymath divine,

A lineage of wisdom, an inheritance so fine.

Through adversity’s gaze, he taught us to see,

Happiness is not in wealth but in humility.

His words echo still, in the silence profound,

A melody of solace, an enduring sound.

Five years hence, the ache remains,

His wisdom is a balm for lingering pains.

An indelible mark on life’s fleeting stage,

A legacy of love, an eternal homage.

In every decision, his presence is near,

An ancestral pride whispered in the ear.

A mural vibrant, not a faded trace,

A father’s love, time cannot erase.

This tribute, not just words on a page,

An ode to a father, wisdom’s sage.

In death, he inspires, in life, he lives,

A testament to the love he gives.

As I journey through life’s complex maze,

His two-fold mantra, like a beacon, stays.

To be a good human, seek joy at every chance,

In the rhythm of existence, a father’s eternal stance.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton