Father (standard:other, 1700 words)
Author: Rabab	Added: Jul 04 2006	Views/Reads: 3202/2153	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The story of a father who loves his son regardless of how he treats him. The last days of a man who couldn't handle happiness.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

abroad, he didn't even return when his mother died. Sid sighed as he 
thought of that day when he had returned home to find his beloved wife 
lying on the ground, dead. After the burial, he tried calling Aly but 
the only answer he received was from his wife who told him that Aly was 
away for a tour with his friends. Aly came back to Pakistan when his 
company offered him a lucrative position. That was when Taimoor was 
born. Sid cherished the time he had spent with his grandson until he 
was four years old. Aly was returning abroad and had decided that Sid 
didn't need the large house in Islamabad as he was living alone. So, 
Sid had been moved to this one-room place in Rawalpindi where he 
received his monthly stipend from his son. 

Sid was called back to reality by a knock on the door. He ambled to the
door and opened it to see a smiling Shamim holding a box in her hands. 

“ My cake!” hooted Sid clapping his hands together. 

“ Yes, Uncle Sikander, it is your delicious chocolate cake” said Shamim
moving it towards him. “ It also has extra chocolate shavings as a gift 
from me,” she told a grinning Sid. 

“You are an angel, my dear!” exclaimed Sid taking the cake from her and
moving towards the table. 

“I thought I should bring it to save you the trouble of walking to my
house” she said as she walked in behind him. She took the cake from 
Sid's shaking hands and arranged it neatly in the centre of the scanty 
table. 

“Aly's stipend barely covers his daily food cost, mother,” fumed an
enraged Shamim to her mother after she got back home. 

“I know, dear. There is nothing poor Sikander can do about it. He worked
for a private company which sacked him when he reached 50. With no 
savings and a bad health, he has no other choice,” sighed her mother as 
she cut the vegetables. 

Shamim looked out of the window and saw a car stop in front of Sid's
house. 

“I think the grandson is here,” she said watching closely as a good
looking  young man rolled down the window and looked at the number on 
Sid's door. 

“ Well, I hope the son is better than his father ever was!” said
Shamim's mother getting up and smoothing the wrinkles in her shirt. 

“ Uncle Sikander is still not ready to hear anything negative about his
son! Can you believe that?” inquired Shamim turning around to help her 
mother clean up. 

Her mother smiled sadly and lovingly patted her daughter's head. 

“You will understand it, my child, when you have children of your own.” 

Shamim went back to the window and smiled as she saw the young man
walking towards Sid's door. 

‘ He is really well-dressed and graceful,' she thought as he knocked at
the door. She was so engrossed in watching him that she didn't realise 
it had been five minutes since he had been standing there. 

“Mother, Uncle Sikander still hasn't opened the door,” she shouted. 

Maybe a bit too loud because the young man turned around and looked
straight at her. She whipped away from the window and blushed when she 
realised that  he most probably thought she had been ogling him. She 
was startled by the ring of the doorbell. She peeped out of the window 
and the young man had vanished. Incredulously, she opened the door and 
saw the young man with a worried look on his face. 

“ Um, I was wondering if you could help me?” he hesitated. 

“Who is it?” asked her mother from the kitchen. 

Shamim looked at the young man and he said “ My name is Taimoor and I am
the grandson of Mr. Sikander. Can you tell me if he is at home?” 

“Well, he was when Shamim went there a few minutes ago,” said her mother
appearing behind her. “Wait, I have the spare keys to his house. We 
should check if he is O.K.” she said walking to the key hook next to 
the door. 

Shamim looked at the ground and sensed Taimoor's eyes scrutinising her
face. 

“Here they are,” said her mother holding up the keys. “Now lets see what
he's up to.” 

All three walked to Sid's house and Shamim's mother unlocked the door.
There was a gasp from Taimoor and a scream from Shamim as they entered 
the small room and saw the small old man lying huddled on the floor. 
The always practical lady, Shamim's mother, hurried towards him and 
pronounced “ He's dead!” 

Shamim stifled her scream and stared wide-eyed at the kind old man who
always volunteered to help her with her homework. 

“ How is it possible? I just left him a few minutes ago and he was fine
moving about arranging things and all. He was so excited about his 
grandson coming to meet him,” whispered Shamim. 

Taimoor moved towards the old man he vaguely remembered as his
grandfather. He stroked the wrinkles on the old, loved face and closed 
his eyes. 

“He was too happy! Too happy! Just couldn't handle all the happiness!”
he whispered as he held up an old photograph that had been clutched in 
Sid's hand. Shamim saw it was the photograph of a young boy sitting on  
Sid's shoulders. Below the picture she saw a scrawled word: Aly! 


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