When I close my eyes and think of my first memory of this world and my life, Daddy, my grandfather is the star of the memory.
He had taken me to have a look at a train. In the train, was a man cooking food. I asked Daddy why was he cooking so much food. He replied that the man was happy that I had come to visit him. So he was cooking a lot of food.
I remember asking Daddy as to why Peshawar had so many lights on a day in August. He replied that Peshawar was happy to have a visit from me.
Now Peshawar was decorated for the Independence Day and the man in the train was cooking food for the passengers. Daddy however had made me feel so very special. Many years later when I realised the truth, I was not angry with Daddy. He was teaching a very young girl a very important lesson. Make people feel special!
Daddy came to settle me in Dublin. He would talk to everyone in Dublin. He could have a chat with the bus conductor on the bus routes. He could talk to the taxi drivers on the changing world. He could talk to the women in the parks about their dogs. He did not need to know a person to have a conversation.
On reflection he talked as he believed by talking people would come together.
He would always be asking people if they could employ someone he knew.He would always be asking us all for new year diaries and calendars. I wondered why? Well he wanted to help people with jobs. As for diaries and calendars, I guess as he loved writing diary, he wanted others to do the same.
His greatest pride were his grandchildren. If I ever finish my novel, it will be dedicated to Buddo, a character that Daddy invented to narrate stories of goodness to his grandchildren.
Every time I fell from a swing, Daddy would tell me you are my brave girl. You must get up and try it again and smile for you look beautiful smiling.
With tears in my eyes and smile on my face, I would try again and usually succeed. Guess that is when I learnt resilience!