Just before the Eid holidays started, I encountered the most amazing man and meeting him proved to be a turning point in my holiday season.
It all began when a friend and I met at the Zamzama franchise of a local supermarket chain for some last-minute grocery runs – just before they would close for the three-day Eid-ul-Azha holidays. With Eid-ul-Azha, known as the festival of sacrifice, when Hajj rituals are simultaneously performed, takbir and talbiyah recitations were being played on the speakers at the store. We had very naively assumed that we had beat the rush (literally) by going at just after 10am, but we couldn't have possibly been more wrong. Or probably, there were others (read: masses) like us, who had identical "last-minute" grocery runs – that needed to be tended to, just like we did. People stood in groups, chattering and looking for items on their lists: plastic wraps (for meat distribution), onions and tikka masalas. And if you're like me, no meal is complete without a chilled diet soda. The cheery excitement of the holidays was palpable, but it was also laced with the usual stress that spoils the season with layers of fatigue.
Ensuring that all the items on our combined grocery lists were eventually ticked off, we made our way to the checkout counters to pay. This is when a loud thud from behind us caught our attention. Two trolleys had collided, and the mountains of groceries therein had spilt all over the floor. Needless to say, the ensuing bickering between the two shoppers was not unexpected.
"Dear God, no," I groaned. Recall that Zil-hajj is one of Islam's four holiest months – meaning that no fighting, transgression or injustice should be done during these months. Being sacred means, they (should, ideally) heighten one's sense of presence and mindfulness of Allah to help one be more disciplined holistically and God-conscious. But, clearly, the sacredness of the month had taken a backseat in our current situation. "Every year," responded my friend, "I promise myself that I'll be more organised next year, but I always find myself stressed to the hilt all over again. It's crazy!"
Throughout this commotion, I noticed an elderly worker manning the weight section in the vegetable area. He was simultaneously weighing customers' vegetables and ensuring that order was maintained while others impatiently waited in line. He even engaged in the occasional small talk with customers while working. Dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and brown pants, thick glasses covered his eyes like a shield. As I watched, he smiled at me and nodded to acknowledge my presence.
"That's Rauf Bhai. He's been working here for years and years. I've heard he put several of his children through college working here, in the vegetable section. He's in his seventies, but he keeps at it. I don't know how he does it."
Suddenly, the Holy Spirit spoke to me. Sarah: Connect with him.
Instantly, I was energised. I made a beeline across to him and asked, "Rauf Bhai, I write; and I wonder if you might let me speak to you. I have a hunch that your life is very special."
Rauf bhai momentarily paused and then he smiled. "I've been asked to do a lot of interviews, and I've always said no. But this time, I'm going to say yes." We agreed to meet after his shift, the same day – at the nearby park.
True to his word, he showed up at 7:30pm and made a random statement: "God has always been very meherban (good) to me – way more than I've ever deserved. I owe everything I am and have to Him. I'm a thankful man."
Every morning, I wait to be picked up and brought to the store and pray that God will send somebody that day who needs my help. Then I watch to see whom He sends across my path
This is a man with a message, I thought, grabbing my pen and notebook from my handbag.
We spoke about his family. "My wife was born totally blind. People didn't think we could make it, but we've raised five children. God has always given us work. I'm 72 and still working. I'm a thankful man."
Ayat number 12 of Surah Luqman (Chapter 31 of the Quran) echoed in my mind:
"…Anyone who is grateful does so to the profit of his own soul…"
Rauf Bhai's love for God – with his determined spirit, was living proof of this verse.
Eager to talk, he continued. "I've been happy in life because I made up my mind when I was younger that I wanted to help people. Life's not about what somebody will do for you. It's all about what you can do for somebody else."
Suddenly, I was curious. This was a 72-year-old weighing vegetables at a grocery store for a living. With Pakistan's current economic conditions, this could not have possibly been a financially lucrative occupation. Rauf Bhai was the one who needed help!
"So, how do you help people?" I asked (quite) blatantly.
He sat up proudly. "Every morning, I wait to be picked up and brought to the store and pray that God will send somebody that day who needs my help. Then I watch to see whom He sends across my path. Even a smile or a kind word helps people in this rough, cruel world. I feel like I'm successful in life because God always sends people I can help." Sadqa, anyone?
This man clearly had it all figured out. He was calm and secure, not fretful or anxious like the rest of us...well, like me!
"I want them [My children] to remember that I was always there when they needed me, that I was a family man. I want them to remember that I loved God and that I never let them go hungry. I want them to believe that I was a good man."
"Has anybody ever helped you along your way?" I asked.
Rauf Bhai paused and smiled. "Yes, once somebody gave me a new pair of shoes. But that's completely besides the point. What's most important is, 'Whom have I helped?'"
"Tell me about your children."
"My "jaan" and I put two of them through college. Two died, and one is not as close to the Lord as he should be. But prayer — that will make the difference. I believe my child will return to the Lord."
"How would you like your children to remember you?" I asked my new friend. A tear slid down from behind his thick glasses. "I want them to remember that I was always there when they needed me, that I was a family man. I want them to remember that I loved God and that I never let them go hungry. I want them to believe that I was a good man."
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. Then he looked straight at me and said, "You know, you should never expect others to do more for your children than you do. I've been there every time my children needed me, just like God has always been there when I needed Him."
"Rauf Bhai, the world would be filled with happy children if they all had fathers like you," I said.
"I don't worry; I'm not afraid of anything. I have peace of mind. God has shown me that my family will always be taken care of. It's not about money; it's about God providing. And shukr, Alhamdulillah for everything."
The strong impact of gratitude on Rauf Bhai's life was impossible to miss. There was so much that he could have complained about – but he chose the path of gratitude and service instead. As we parted ways that evening, I knew my holiday would be more focused — and more filled with gratitude because of him.
Once again, God had sent Rauf Bhai somebody to help. And this time, that somebody was yours truly, me. And I'm pretty sure: every time I will now see him, he'll be counting his blessings and looking for the next person that God was sending his way.