Mustafa Qadri

It was an eventual day yesterday largely for uneventful reasons. The highlight was when the taxi driver we were using for three hours between nine and twelve at night asked for an exorbitant fee. When we paid him the usual amount we pay taxi drivers he literally threw the money back at us. After a heated exchange for around a minute during which we tried to keep our cool, he sped off into the night. I chased his car briefly as we instantly decided it was better to pay whatever amount he asked for lest he come back not for money but for a little more action. He kept on driving. Welcome to uncertainty, Karachi style. Ever since my poor old dad has been a little anxious. We’ve told the chawkidars downstairs to keep an eye out for him so we can give him the money. Hopefully he’ll be back. I feel bad that he didn’t get any money, let alone the larger amount he wanted. But why was he so insistent on all or nothing? We offered him a good amount! I guess he was tired and maybe he was having other problems we didn’t know about. Maybe he just felt we dishonoured him by challenging his fee aka “mera bohat beste kya.” Regardless, it’s the last thing I want to worry about right now.

My dad is leaving today but he now is thinking of staying. I’ve told him to think about it and suggested he go. It’s time now for me to really buckle up and get into my work. Moreover, I don’t think his presence will make my life any safer. It might give him peace of mind, but I think he needs to learn to let go a little. I think I’ve convinced him to.

It’s been amusing and occasionally quite annoying watching him treat me with kid gloves. He’s a good, attentive father but deep down I don’t think it’s registered that I’m not ten anymore.

I don’t say that to dishonour him (that word again! Must be the Pakistan effect…). I only wish to note something that has been in my thoughts for some time now. When I saw my little nephew for the first time a few months back, for example, I couldn’t help but marvel at this little, vulnerable ball of life. It must be difficult for parents to let go after their kids turn into adults, warts and all. There is a tendency in many communities, such as in Asian communities, for parents to dedicate their entire lives to their children. I could not literally have followed my own professional whims had it not been for my parents’ support in every way, shape and form. At the same time, there is a cost.

I think the cost is that you realise, around the age of 15-16, that your parents can’t fight your battles for you. That as much as they’d like to give you emotional support, they too are struggling to cope with the uncertainty of the wide open world like the rest of the species. As a result, sometimes their support becomes a burden not a benefit. You get an extra set of heads to get anxious, along with yours, with every little hurdle you’re confronted with. The danger in giving everything to your children is that you never get back what you give in. One thing you do gain, always, is a manic attention to every little detail of your child’s life. Love may be blind, but it can be addictive too.

Absent some major trauma from which one can never fully recover, I think at some point you just have to accept the cards life deals you and make the most of it. Parents need to let go. Children need to accept that parents never really do let go. Now how’s that for a paradox?