My mom was quite hard working and she always chose to be very compliant and affectionately dutiful to my dad in his all lifestyles. She never once stepped out of what my dad had marked as out of bounds in social realms, domestic affairs and financial matters. She was always a willing consultant in all small and essential affairs pertaining to day today routines. She had all the makings of a typical wife of Muslim household. She would not only concentrate to her domestic schedule but also renovate the wrecked mud walls in the kitchen, restrooms and the ruined paddock. She would whitewash them herself all alone, though sweating but happily. She would also make an adequate amount of time to read the Koran, Noor Nanah, Misbahul Hayath and some familiar Urdu Quesada books and would ask for dad’s observations.
When all the other homemakers had started going to night movies, which was a stealthy fashion at that time stealthily without the Muslim ulema coming to know about the fact, my mom never once asked my dad permission for a movie. She would not go shopping herself either, and whatever dad would bring she would gladly accept, seldom complaining. I never heard mom asking for money or clothes and the least the jewels. There was no occasion for any family dispute and hard feelings were quite unknown to us. The family the house and life therein was blissful with profuse love and harmony. Inside the four walls.
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