As soon as Aly got a job, his attitude towards his parents changed. He
thought they were old fashioned and slow. After leaving for a position abroad,
he didn’t even return when his mother died. Sid sighed as he
thought of that day when he had returned home to find his beloved wife
lying on the ground, dead. After the burial, he tried calling Aly but
the only answer he received was from his wife who told him that Aly was
away for a tour with his friends. Aly came back to Pakistan when his
company offered him a lucrative position. That was when Taimoor was
born. Sid cherished the time he had spent with his grandson until he
was four years old. Aly was returning abroad and had decided that Sid
didn’t need the large house in Islamabad as he was living alone. So,
Sid had been moved to this one-room place in Rawalpindi where he
received his monthly stipend from his son.

Sid was called back to reality by a knock on the door. He ambled to the
door and opened it to see a smiling Shamim holding a box in her hands.

‘ My cake!’ hooted Sid clapping his hands together.

‘ Yes, Uncle Sikander, it is your delicious chocolate cake’ said Shamim
moving it towards him. ‘ It also has extra chocolate shavings as a gift
from me,’ she told a grinning Sid.

‘You are an angel, my dear!’ exclaimed Sid taking the cake from her and
moving towards the table.

‘I thought I should bring it to save you the trouble of walking to my
house’ she said as she walked in behind him. She took the cake from
Sid’s shaking hands and arranged it neatly in the centre of the scanty

‘Aly’s stipend barely covers his daily food cost, mother,’ fumed an
enraged Shamim to her mother after she got back home.

‘I know, dear. There is nothing poor Sikander can do about it. He worked
for a private company which sacked him when he reached 50. With no
savings and a bad health, he has no other choice,’ sighed her mother as
she cut the vegetables.

Shamim looked out of the window and saw a car stop in front of Sid’s

‘I think the grandson is here,’ she said watching closely as a good
looking young man rolled down the window and looked at the number on
Sid’s door.

‘ Well, I hope the son is better than his father ever was!’ said
Shamim’s mother getting up and smoothing the wrinkles in her shirt.

‘ Uncle Sikander is still not ready to hear anything negative about his
son! Can you believe that?’ inquired Shamim turning around to help her
mother clean up.

Her mother smiled sadly and lovingly patted her daughter’s head.

‘You will understand it, my child, when you have children of your own.’

Shamim went back to the window and smiled as she saw the young man
walking towards Sid’s door.