My Mother, Parveena Ahangar

Nineteen. Forty. Seven


If you ask Jiji what she would like to eat, her response is always “Sanaa, koi fikar nahi, Allah hai na. Khaana mil jayega, bas mujhe apna kaam karna hai. Khaane ki koi fikar nahi” [Sanaa, don’t worry. Allah is with us. I just need to do my work, food will come and go. I have no worry about food.]

“Jiji aap apna bhi khayal rakha kareh..” [Mother, you need to take care of yourself too.]

“Allah hai na mera khayal rakne ke liye. Meh neh khabi apna hayal nahi rakha, meh neh bas logoh ka kaam kiya. Allah hai na mereh saath. Koi baat nahi, meh teek hu.”[Allah is there to take care of me. I’ve never take care of myself, I have always worked for the people. Allah is with me. Don’t worry, I’m fine]

Almost four weeks after she left and still all I can talk about…

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About ان کی گلیوں میں

Pro-Khilafa. Anti-Democrate. Student of Political Math. Occassional Cook. Writer.
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