Islamabad's oldest graveyard is called the H-8 graveyard, after the sector H-8 (Isb is very organized unlike other cities in Pakistan and is divided according to sectors). After the Lal-Masjid/Red Mosque events in July, this graveyard was filled beyond capacity and a new second graveyard has been opened.
My "khalu" (mother's sister's husband) passed away from cancer in 2005. My "nani" or maternal grandmother passed away in 1979. I never met her. I have now. We went to visit Khalu and Nani.
I visited H-8 with my "khala" (mother's sister, older or younger..this one is older) today. Mama could not come. She told me to see if the graveyard workers had planted the "neem" ( don't know the translation, anyone?) tree at the head of Nani's grave as per her order's on her last visit and that if they did, I should give them Rs. 100 for gratitude.
My mother doesn't go to the graveyard that often. There is a rumour that women should not go to graveyards because the dead can see them naked. Rubbish it seems to me for two reasons:
1) To make women feel ashamed of their bodies, a tool always used by extremists, cover this, cover that, hide, hide, hide. If God has made a woman, she is beautiful and neutral to him, why should she hide herself more than a man?
2) A woman might really miss someone she has lost. Why can she not visit her beloved in her/his final resting place?
So I go regardless. God knows who is right and who is wrong. I just don't feel wrong about visiting the dead and lonely and praying for them. Hence, I went.
We go in the morning and as soon as we park our car in the muddy, green, lush graveyard, this man runs behind us with a bucket of water. Khala says, "Let us first buy the rose petals, rose water and incense." Khala's houseboy, Qaiser, who accompanied us, purchases the goods.
Lala Mustafa, the man with the bucket follows us eagerly as we follow the grid and rows of graves; small, big, long, short, old, new and plenty. Khala tells me that he is appointed by them to take care of Khalu's grave. Rs. 200 per month to keep Khalu's life after death pretty...at least from where we can view him.
We walk through the muddy graves, some are muddy, some are cemented, some are marbled. In Islam, one is ordered not to have permanent graves and in fact, in Saudi Arabia, graves are reused every 2-5 years. Makes sense...if we bury people and then create permanent structures on that plot of ground, we will have to set up life in Mars because Earth would be a giant H-8!
Anyway, we come to Khalu's grave. Lala Mustafa efficiently throws water on the tombstone to clean it. Someone has come to visit Khalu. He can't be presented this way. His tombstone: white and grey marble with Urdu calligraphy on it. A huge rectangular tomb of marble lies before us. 5 X 3 feet. The top was left open. Some people believe that one should leave the top open with normal sand...in case one needs oxygen? I don't know.
The beauty of this visit is that none of us know anything. We do things for our own satisfaction. We ask Lala Mustafa to weed the surroundings of the grave, we spread rose petals all over the wet sand and flowers on the open top part of the grave and spill rose water all over the sand. We do this all for Khalu, in case, he is still down there. But we really just do it for ourselves. We then pray for him. It is called offering the "fatiha". One does it in remembrance of the departed. Recite Surah Fatiha once and Surah Ikhlas three times. One prays for the inclusion of the departed in Heaven and for forgiveness of their sins.
Khala asks Mustafa if he has planted the neem trees. He has. There are two 2 ft tall neem trees that will some day grow and give Khalu some shade.
We bid farewell to Mustafa as he haggles for more money for occasionally weeding and watering the flowers on Khalu's grave. Khala snubs him for talking of such materialistic gains in a space that is constantly reminding us of mortality. It is quite ironic.
Anyway, we head to Nani's grave. I am excited. It is as if I am meeting her for the first time. I am meeting her for the first time. We finally find her grave. Khalu's grave is at the end of H-8 and Nani's is at the beginning. It was, after all, 1979.
Her grave is modest, quiet and peaceful. It is as if we have traveled into the past. Shady, cool, quiet, not crowded...scanty. Her name was "Siddiqa Begum". This time around, I get emotional. I want to spread rose petals. After all, this is the woman who gave me my mother. She did wonders to my life. Too bad, she did not live to see the wonders she gave to the world. Qaiser then spills the water all over the grave. He lights the incense. We offer our "fatiha".
We stand there silently. H-8 is lush green as all graveyards are. Horrid to think about it this way, but there is so much organic fertilizer down there...why shouldn't they be lush. There is a serenity to the graveyard. We stand there silently till Imran and Nasr, two more greedy and (numbed by the graveyard) workers, rudely interrupt our peace.
"Do you want us to plant a neem tree for her?"
Khala says, "No. Plant some jasmine. My mother loved jasmine."
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