The Grey-Haired Queen

Sometimes, I think about my bari nano, my great-grandma. A woman so accustomed to the grand havelis in her village in India but forced to leave it all behind during the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947. She moved with her family to a small area in Akalgar, Pakistan. I remember visiting her in the little living room shared between five other families. She would always sit in the center, her children and grandchildren and even great grandchildren surrounding her. She sat against her little cushion as if it were a throne instead of an old bolster whose blue colour had long since faded. Once, she was the woman of a haveli, overseeing the work of her gardeners and servants. Now, an elderly woman with no servants to oversee and no grand haveli to live in but she still sat in a court of her descendants with the same grace. According to my grandmother, bari nano had always been a gentle woman. It was as though kindness and compassion were woven into the fabric of her character. I felt it when I spoke to her–in her loving tone and her gentle eyes. That didn’t change after she’d witnessed the horrors of the partition. She may have lost her riches, her home, and her family, but she never lost her character.

I never saw the havelis, but I will always remember bari nano’s kindness and strength. A strong character is more powerful than a haveli built of the strongest bricks. After all, havelis can be taken and destroyed. But the strength of our character and our firmness in our faith? No one can take that away from us. As I write this, I can’t help but think about the genocide in Gaza, which has reached unimaginable heights. I think of the message from a Palestinian woman who even in the midst of constant violence found the words to give strength to the rest of the world [1]. I think of Motaz Azaiza, a journalist risking his life to show the world what is happening in Gaza [2]. I think of the unwavering faith of the Palestinians and their love for their land and people. It pushes me to reflect on my own character and faith.

When we leave this world, our wealth, our buildings, our successes will be left behind. We will take nothing with us. Our character—how we treated others and carried ourselves—is what everyone will remember. Not the havelis and the gardens. The legacy of the Prophet’s SAW has not prevailed for over 1400 years because of his wealth or material possessions. It has not prevailed because of the battles he SAW won. It has prevailed because of how he SAW won them. People believed in him because of his character SAW. He SAW was Al-Sadiq and Al-Amin. The one who is truthful and the one to be trusted. Our character is all we will have to show for ourselves when we stand before Allah SWT. And a good character is all that will carry us towards a better Akhirah (afterlife).

A good character and good actions go hand in hand, because no matter how big or small our actions, they always ripple through the lives of others. When I think about partition, I think of Sir Cyril Radclife, the man who drew the line that separated Pakistan and India [3]. It’s worth noting that Radcliffe had never set foot in South Asia before [3]. Sarindar Dhaliwal, a South Asian artist who takes inspiration from the partition produced an artpiece titled The Cartographer’s Mistake [3]. This artwork underscores the enduring consequences of Radcliffe’s decisions, still felt in modern-day Pakistan and India. The persistent violence and conflict in Kashmir serve as a stark reminder of this legacy. Dhaliwal said that she imagined Radcliffe to reincarnate as a bird over and over again. The bird tells stories about his different lives [4]. The bird’s mistake as a human had a great cost and the after-effects of his actions can be seen in Kashmir today. In the end, the legacy we leave behind is not in the grandeur of our possessions or the wealth we accumulate, but in the actions we take and the character we exhibit throughout our lives.

The first funeral I ever attended was bari nano’s. Last year, my grandmother passed away. It’s heartbreaking to think that eventually, my mother will pass away. And one day, so will I. Death is an inevitable thing, and it is overwhelming to think about what I will leave behind after I die when it feels like my life has only just begun. But, as Muslims we believe in a life after this one. That is what we dedicate our temporary, ephemeral lives to. Even if no one in this world remembers my name, I pray that they remember my kindness and compassion. I hope the quality of my character becomes my legacy. I pray that we are able to become people who stand firm in our faith, whose imaan is unshakeable even in the worst of times.

1. Arabs of Canada. A message from a mother in Gaza [Internet]. 2023 Oct [cited 2023 Nov 3]; Available from: https://www.instagram.com/reel/CyY8Q_ sxFnu/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

2. Motaz Azaiza https://www.instagram.com/motaz_azaiza/?utm_source=ig_ web_button_share_sheet&igshid=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA==

3. O’Reilly, A. (2019, May 3). The cartographer’s mistake . WAG. https://www. wag.ca/art/stories/the-cartographers-mistake/

4. Sarindar Dhaliwal. The cartographer’s mistake: the Radcliffe Line, 2012. Chromira print, 107 x 107 cm. Collection of the Art Gallery of Ontario. J.S. McLean Collection, by Canada Packers Inc., 2020. Sarindar Dhaliwal