Lion Md. Goni Miah Babul

My father’s name was Md. Ismail Hossain. He was not only my biological father but also a symbol of ideals. He is my inspiration. On August 12, 2014, my father departed for the eternal abode. On that day in the afternoon, following his funeral prayer held on the grounds of Kachom Ali National Ideal School—established in my grandfather’s name in Sripur, Gazipur District—his body was buried in the family graveyard at Tepirbari village. At that time, there was a light drizzle falling from the sky. It felt as though the sky was weeping in grief for my father. Around seven thousand devout Muslims from various walks of life attended his funeral. On August 16, 2014, during his post-funeral ceremony (kulkhani) held on the same school grounds, many dignitaries were present as well.

My father was selfless, impartial, humble, and benevolent. Throughout his life, he always gave with an open heart and never sought anything in return. He loved everyone—friends, young and old alike—with all his heart. His love was pure and sincere, devoid of anger, frustration, stubbornness, annoyance, or intolerance. No one was ever hurt by his words. It would be hard to find someone who approached him for help and was turned away. He was my ideal man. In my eyes, my father was a pious man or a good spiritual guide. He was also my source of strength. I saw him up close, understood him deeply. I never heard him utter a bad word. He never cursed anyone. He never smoked, never loitered around shops chatting idly. He had no bad friends and never kept bad company. He never treated anyone poorly. In my eyes, my father was the greatest father in the world. He was a great guardian.

Among his brothers, my father was the eldest. They respected him deeply, and my uncles would refer to him as “Dada.” After passing the matriculation exam, he worked for a while as a primary school teacher. Later, he successfully engaged in business with appreciation. In the final part of his life, he managed agricultural work on his own land, and he was beloved even by the farm laborers who worked for us. Every year, five to six people worked regularly at our home, and he managed and oversaw them. Our village has a social structure, and my father served as the head of society until his last breath.

He played a special role in establishing the local mosque, Furkania madrasa, school, and other institutions in front of our house. He donated land for the mosque, madrasa, and graveyard. He was a socially aware individual. To bring economic emancipation and employment opportunities for the people of the area, he established the Tepirbari Farmers’ Cooperative Association. As its founder and president, he organized local farmers. Through this association, farmers could obtain funds on easy terms and repay their debts in installments. Under his leadership, the association saved money and distributed agricultural supplies to farmers as needed. Many poor farmers became self-reliant through this initiative.

In 1980, to provide irrigation to both his and others’ land, he installed a deep tube well on his property at a cost of around 100,000 taka, most of which he paid himself. He was also a health-conscious man. To meet the need for pure drinking water, he installed a tube well at our home in 1978. This benefited not only our family but also other villagers with clean drinking water. He loved cleanliness and orderliness. He was a tree lover and would plant fruit, forest, and medicinal trees every monsoon. He also took care of these trees, ensuring their maintenance. Through his afforestation efforts, he transformed the surroundings of our house into a lush, green, and scenic environment.

He supported the education of many poor children in the area—sometimes openly, sometimes in secret. He also provided financial support to madrasa students. He worked tirelessly to support helpless people. But he never sought publicity. He was never stingy in giving but was very restrained in promoting his own name. My father was a very patient man. He never complained or lamented. He only sought help from Allah. He was deeply devout and pious. He prayed all five daily prayers in congregation at the mosque. Even at the age of 92, his eyesight and hearing remained intact. He read religious books regularly and also taught from them during mosque study sessions. For a long time, he gave the call to prayer (azan) at our mosque—he acted as the muezzin. I saw my father constantly engaged in the remembrance (zikr) of Allah. Even in illness, he performed dry ablution (tayammum) and continued to pray, always immersed in the zikr of Allah.

His only wish for us was that we become good, humane people. My father will never return. It’s not even possible. But his sole wish was that we grow into good human beings. I seek prayers from everyone so that we may work for the welfare of humanity and continue to assist those in need. May Almighty Allah grant my father a place in the highest paradise—Jannatul Ferdous. Ameen.

The Author is Teacher, Poet, Columnist, Social Worker & Organizer

Chairman, Writers’ Development Center, Central Committee

President, Poets’ Council Bangladesh, Central Committee

He can be reached at E-mail: lionganibabul@gmail.com