Mizan Rahman
A present from Grandpa)
I
am writing to you because your first birthday is coming up and I still couldn’t
decide what present to give you. Birthdays are always special, but the first
birthdays are more special than others. It is the only birthday when you will
have absolutely no idea what the fuss is all about, yet this is one birthday
that your parents will cherish most the rest of their lives. The first is
always so special because it goes so quickly and never returns. I myself would
not be in such a quandary if you were not my first grandchild and if it were not your first birthday. You deserve something
very special.
I know your
parents are planning a big party for you. They have rented an entire park in
the town to entertain 300guests to a bar-b-q dinner and an evening of joyful
dance and music. You will be the center of attraction of the whole party. You
will not know about it, and, after a while, you may even start fretting about
all the noise around you, but you will be the reigning monarch for one full
day. It’s too bad that I won’t be able to join you there. Your grandma is too
sick to travel such a great distance and I can’t leave her alone in the house.
But I still have to give you something.
It would be
easy to go to a store here and buy a toy that you might like to play with.
Perhaps a monster robot, a remote control car or a screaming monkey that hops
around the floor. But you already got most of that stuff from your parents, and
those 300 guests at your party are going to bring 300 kinds of toys for you
anyway. Grandpa’s toy might be a bit special but it will still be just another
toy that you would soon grow out of. Then what shall I give you?
Oh yes, I
know what I’ll give you. It just dawned on me. I’ll give you a very old watch
that doesn’t work anymore. I suddenly remembered I kept this watch in your Grandma’s
jewelry box safely locked in a bureau. It belonged to my father before he
passed away. He didn’t give it to me; I just picked it up from all the worldly
stuff he left behind, which amounted to nothing really worthwhile. It has no
market value at all, totally useless. Yet this is one worldly possession of his
that I consider my most precious treasure. Your Grandpa is obviously a
sentimental man, but there is more to it than just a bagful of old-fashioned
sentiment.
Nowadays
nobody keeps a watch in his pocket. Everyone would laugh at you if you did. But
in my father’s days watches were supposed to be kept in pockets. Jackets and
shirts were specially tailored with inside pockets so that small round shaped
watches could be carried in them. Wealthy people would attach gold or silver
chains to them. Sometimes even the watch casings were made of pure gold. But my
father’s watch had just one purpose—show time. His watch was tied to a black
ribbon with his shirt button. He was not rich enough even to afford a jacket,
so he had nothing to show off.
I still
remember some of the rituals of our household in my early life. My father used
to come home from work at dusk, take off his watch and hang it on the bedrails
behind his pillow. He used to wake up around 4:30 in the morning, look at the
watch, wind it, and then wake me up. We would go to the mosque to say our
prayer. Then we would take a long walk by the side of the river Buriganga and
return home by 7:00¾everyday, on the hour, by the hour. It became such a habit that we
hardly needed the watch. But the watch was always there with my father, like a
beating heart. He taught me that a watch does more than just keep the time.
Being on time is like keeping a promise with
someone, honoring a word. Punctuality and reliability are two sides of
the same coin. He told me that a watch teaches you to synchronize your mind and
body with nature. It helps raise your consciousness about continuity and
regularity. It reveals some of the most profound symmetries of nature. I don’t
know how my father with so little education acquired so much knowledge and
insight but he tried to explain some of that abstract stuff to me when I was
very young. Obviously I didn’t understand anything at that time, but they must have made enough impression
on me that after so many years they have come alive again in my mind.
I am
grateful that my father didn’t and couldn’t leave any wealth for his children.
I feel quite rich that I have his watch and all the memories and values
attached to it. This is the legacy I wish to pass on to you. It has absolutely
no value at the shops but I hope its value will keep rising in your mind as you
keep growing in your age.
I wish this
watch would start showing time again. But I couldn’t get it fixed anywhere
because no clock-smith exists who can repair these old watches. They are
obsolete—as obsolete as many of the old values they are associated with. They
are too worthless to the commercial consumer of today. But it still seems like
an ideal gift for my grandson on his first birthday. I know for sure that you
will never grow out of it. You can only grow into it.
Ottawa,
August
16, 1996
Mizan Rahman, মীজান রহমান
