Yusuf Jamal was a man of character. A religiously upright man, idealistic to the core, a doting husband, a loving father, a caring son, a gem of a friend, a worthy neighbor and many more qualities you have to behold to believe. His life and career had seen both sides of the extreme in a very short span. He remembered the first day he came to Mumbai with his childhood friend Umar at the tender age of nineteen overwhelmed by family responsibilities his terminally ailing father had thrust upon him. He had marveled at the sheer chaos and charisma the city radiated. Mumbai, the city of dreams – he had heard. To the people in his village, Mumbai was a heavenly abode far away into the horizon where people went and came back as the affluent. Mumbai has space for everyone, Mohan bhai a beneficiary of Mumbai had said. Given all the problems his family faced and realizing how gravely they depended on the sole male member in the family for bread, Yusuf had decided to give Mumbai a shot.
His first day in Mumbai had seen Umar running towards him with a job offer as an attendant in a shop which sold illegally smuggled artifacts like watches, wallets, bracelets, gold ornaments etc. He was delighted at first at this great piece of news. But his conscience and religious upbringing took over his mind and convinced beyond all doubt: this is morally wrong. Such were his ideals and such were the ways in which he followed them! He was determined that his family back n his village won’t live of an improper source of income. Over the week he was lucky to come in contact with a lone man setting up a tailoring shop in one of the many by-lanes in Mumbai. His boss was his teacher and mentor in a skill which would later shape his career.
In due course of time; with the Grace of God, as he always said, he set foot firmly in Mumbai. With great difficulty and perseverance he married off his three sisters. Even though the ceremonies were not pompous he had taken care in finding worthy husbands for them. After some years he got married to a woman of his native whom he brought to Mumbai along with him. They had three children, two of them girls and a handsome young boy. But Yusuf’s family didn’t stop here. He had too big a heart and too great a conscience to overlook his nephews and nieces and their requirements. He had taken all care of every aspect of their lives right from their studies to big medical expenses. But Yusuf was not a man of immense wealth. His fortunes declined with every act of kindness he bestowed not only on his relatives but also on his neighbors and friends.
He was kind often to the point of getting exploited by people eager to dent an honest mind. But Yusuf didn’t mind. He was always happy to give. His wife would ask him whether he cared for his own children who were now growing up fast. ‘I have helped a lot of people in my life. There would always be someone who would bail me out when I am in need.’ he would say.
Well times don’t remain merciful to anyone for a long period of time. His first daughter’s marriage was fixed with a handsome young man he had forged a business deal with. All preparations were underway and he wanted his girl to remember her wedding as the most memorable day in her life!
A month before the wedding, Yusuf found himself sitting at the porch of his sister’s villa at an upscale household in Bangalore. His small-scale cloth unit at Masjid Bunder was gutted down in the fire that engulfed the market a week ago. Yusuf’s whole world had come crashing down. He assisted the workers in his shop with finance as temporary sustenance till his unit limped back to life. All of this rendered him virtually penniless and with his daughter’s wedding close on the heels, he had decided to approach his now wealthy sister.
‘Ofcourse she would help me!’ Yusuf had beamed at his wife while setting of from his home. He did not think of it as asking for a favour in return of all the favours he had done her over the years. He was simply done in with the thought that his sister would only be happy to help him for the cause of her niece. He had sat there for quite some time when his brother-in-law and his sister emerged from the house. He stood up expecting warmth and pleasure. Instead what welcomed him was cold indifference. He told them all about the misery he had faced in the past week and how he hoped they would assist him with his daughter’s marriage.
‘I would have surely liked to help you but you must understand. I don’t have that kind of money you see.’ was the simple answer he got. Saying this, they both sped away in their Mercedes C-class. Yusuf stood there at the porch numb and dumbfounded at the turn of the events. He couldn’t imagine they were the same people he knew more than half a decade ago. He staggered out of the house in shock, his jaw clenched on the verge of crying. He was not sad about his daughter’s fate. He was sad at his sister’s snub. Cold apathy. That’s the word to describe it. Distraught, he started his walk back home wondering what he would tell his wife and daughter. Things had been the unexpected. But he had no qualms. God had given him this fate and he was no one to question His decision.
An hour later the phone at Yusuf’s house rang. His daughter attended the call.
‘Yusuf Jamal’s house? I am calling from the Dean Jose Hospital in Bangalore. Mr. Yusuf is no more. He apparently suffered a serious stroke and was declared dead before he got to the hospital. May I know who it is that I speak with?’. He heard no reply. The only thing he heard were cries and shrieks of disbelief of a whole family.
