I wouldn’t have known him if it wasn’t for my grandma. She kept him so alive in everything she did. She always had a story of the kind of person he was, and the kind of person we could be.
His company was called GMG. From what I understand, when they moved to East Pakistan (now Bangladesh), he acquired it from someone else. When I asked her what it stood for, she used to smilingly say, “Good man good.”
If you went to Bangladesh and spoke about him, many people would know—less as time passes, but still. He was a bigger-than-average personality, living through a pivotal point in the development of that country. He was both Pakistani, and very Bengali.
He used to call me “Garbar Singh,” troublemaker. Always jumping off things, and maybe I was. Maybe it was the trauma, and maybe some of it was just me. Necessary trouble, I shall still very much make.
I don’t remember him considerably from real life, but from her recollection of him—in business, in politics, and in the way he showed up for people. How he would serve food as an act of service on behalf of the boss, and he was that very boss, but no one knew.
I would have forgotten him if it wasn’t for her, but this text isn’t about him. It’s about the way she loved him, and about the grace with which she lived her life—a snapshot of what she meant to us.
One of the reasons they left Pakistan was that his family didn’t want him to marry her. The chaos of those times I know less of, but I know he did. They made it happen, and to date, everyone knows how she felt.
She passed away in Lugano this weekend, and her wish was to be buried in Dhaka, right by his side. As soon as the legalities are complete, her body will make the final journey home.
Everyone I met always had good things to say about her, whether in Pakistan or Bangladesh. In joy and in distress, if you mattered to her, she would be there. There were many people who mattered to her.
You could meet her once, and you’d want to be her friend. She had friends who were older and even as young as my age. People would visit her all the time, and she was ever the happy host.
It was uncanny how that worked. They would go out of their way for her, and she would never even ask. What she needed, she had, and perhaps the only thing she would want is your company.
My grandfather was more impact and action, and with my grandma, it was presence. She was just there, as an example of grace, loyalty, so many good values, and kindness.
Despite living all over the world, she kept us connected. If there was a glue in our family, it was her. A simple woman, the last time we spoke, she was having daal chawal for dinner, and I could relate. I like that she could say it in Italian.
It is not often that you meet people you would like to emulate, and there is much about her that I would. I don’t think my grandfather would have been the man he was if it hadn’t been for her love. I don’t think we would have been the same either.
We’re all going to miss her.
~Frumi
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