I have known Munira since my childhood; we lived close to one another, our buildings a hop-skip from each others on Frere Road. We also were in the same Masjid group in Clifton and shared the same thaal. In fact we were known for being that boisterous teenage thaal from where squeals of uninhibited laughter could be heard echoing around the basement where we sat for Niaz meals.
To me Munira was always someone who was candid in her views; someone you could expect the truth from. Spending time with her was refreshing. I may even say I witnessed the beginning of her lovely courtship with Mufaddal Bhai. Memories of attending her wedding with her as a radiant, yet no-nonsense bride are clear as day.
Over the years, after our weddings, we stayed in touch and met sporadically whenever a friend, married abroad, would visit Karachi. Then too it would be Munira who would arrange a rendezvous.
I recall the Ramazan when Munira asked on our friends WhatsApp group if there was a Dua to pray for a life partner, just like there is for your parents or children. It was later I found out the reason why. Mufaddal Bhai’s ailment and his treatment was something I heard about but never discussed with her.
The day he passed away I remember going to their home flooded with mourners and I saw Munira still with her signature strength, yet, her eyes held a deep, indescribable, bewildering pain. Over the months that followed she wrote about Mufaddal Bhai and shared it with us and her writings pierced the heart. Maybe because it was so honest (like her); maybe because it was raw, unfiltered. I kept telling her that she must think about publishing her thoughts.
I’m humbled to have been a small part of this incredible memoir, steeped in loss and brimming with love. It is a must-read if you have ever lost someone you have loved deeply.
Amate Syedna TUS
Maryam
Xeemarmar 