Today morning while I was sleeping, I got a call from dad. It couldn’t have been something important, so I put it on silent and tried sleeping again. In the background, I could hear mom talking to one of my uncles. I couldn’t figure out what the conversation was about but her tone did seem weird. A few seconds later dad called again and I knew something was wrong. My eldest uncle, my dad’s eldest brother, had passed away this morning.

I was never close to him. Or for that matter, to most of my relatives. But this was the first death in the family since my grand father had passed away when I was still a toddler. Mom was crying, and so was dad. I was just quiet. Stunned.

As I’m typing this, most of the relatives are on their way to the family house in Faizabad, a small district near Ayodhya in UP. I recently got back from the place as well after celebrating Bakr’ Id.

I used to call him Gaagu Uncle as a kid and now like everyone else, referred to him as Doctor Uncle. After grand father passed away, he took over his clinic. He was a certified doctor, but his love for machines and electronics never died. He always tinkered about with stuff around the house, fixing not only things gone haywire at home but for outsiders as well. You’d find parts of circuit boards, cameras et al in his cupboard. He had even fixed my watch and table lamp once.

He seemed the most strict of the lot amongst the seven brothers and six sisters that my dad’s side is. Probably being the eldest male member of the family did so to him. He’d always prefer eating alone at the dinner table once after everyone was done. But with the kids, he was a jolly old man. My sister loved scrubbing her palms against his rough stubble.

I’m told that he was ill for a while now. He’d even gone to Delhi for a few medical tests, but no diagnosis was reached. Today morning, when one of the younger uncles went to his room to see if he had taken his medicines, he had already left us. Quietly.

I called up a dear friend after hearing about this. I was wondering why there weren’t tears in my eyes. But the moment I shared this unfortunate news with my friend, I felt I would cry. The last rituals are being done right now probably. Dad’s not able to speak at all. I just finished getting the tickets and other paper work in place for mom’s journey to Faizabad tomorrow. I’m not able to go along with her because I have to stay here with my sister. For now, she’s taking it well but we’re not sure if she can handle something like this keeping in mind she hasn’t been doing well for a while now.

These pictures were shot this month when I was in Faizabad. He’d have his breakfast and then read the Quran. Maybe take a nap. The third picture is with aunt when they were off to an old colleague’s son’s wedding. And the last one was on Bakr’ Id right after the goats were sacrificed.

I really wish I could be there with my family. May Allah bless his soul.

Ateeq Khan. 4th May, 1946 - 30th November, 2011. RIP.