When heated, titanium hardens over time, and the age-hardening process increases the strength of the metal. Similarly, my grandfather was hardened by the troubled times that he manoeuvred through. I simply remember a kind man, who loved all his grandchildren and spoiled us with treats. It was later that I learned that he was a man whose back had become arched from numerous years of hard work. Tirelessly he served the people and continued to do so even after his illness had made him weak, so much so that he couldn’t venture out of the house.

This quote by Antoine Griezmann aptly sums up my grandfather’s life: ‘With hard work and effort, you can achieve anything.’ He had endured hardship, heartbreak and suffering, but kept on persevering in the face of diversity. He never let his circumstances break him; instead he grew stronger and wiser, creating a legacy that defined his generation. And now it is our duty as his descendants to carry on the work that he started.

My grandfather, Dr Abdul Razzaque, was born on 7 January 1927, in Kalapani (translated means Blackwater) on the Andaman Islands. His father, Chaudhry Abdul Karim, worked in the Indian Public works department. His work brought him in constant contact with the prisoners that inhabited that part of the island.

His father was the first in his village, Bassi Gujjran, to complete his education and become an engineer. Soon, he was transferred to the Andaman Islands, which was 700 miles from the nearest Indian port. The British-owned Island was the place where political prisoners or other convicts were sent.

My grandfather was the fourth child of his parents, but the first son to survive. His older brother had died before he was born. His father placed a high value on education, due to which he was able to live a good life and he wanted his children to follow the same path. Thus, by the age of four, my grandfather was enrolled in a school three miles away from his house. Like all young children, he didn’t like to study and instead preferred to explore the island on his bike. Growing up, he became bolder, venturing further from home on occasion. Unfortunately, these excursions were met with disapproving reprimands from his father.

Fragility of life
By the age of nine, he had experienced two events that had a huge impact on his personality. The first was when his father almost drowned in front of his eyes. On a day off, he had accompanied his father and colleagues to the beach. As my grandfather didn’t know how to swim, he feared that he would sink like a rock; therefore he chose to remain on the beach, blissfully watching his father swim out into deeper waters. Waves splashed on the shore; suddenly, while everyone was enjoying themselves, a massive wave swept his father under the water. The only one aware of what had happened, my grandfather began shouting to his father’s friends trying to get their attention but to no avail. Luckily, a few British officers had just arrived at the beach, and hearing my grandfather’s pleas, they dove into the water. They were able to bring his father back to shore.

Although he was unconscious when he was brought out of the water, they were able to resuscitate him. My grandfather and his father were never the same after this; he had learned just how unpredictable and fragile life was. It was here that he had decided that he wanted to be someone that was able to help others. The second thing that happened was he failed in the fourth grade. This failure propelled him to work harder on everything that he did because the thought of failing again haunted him. All his effort paid off when, in grade 7, he took the first position in his class.

Life seemed to finally be going very well, that is until 1939 when the Second World War started. My grandfather had been blessedly unaware of what was happening in the world, that is until the war came knocking at his door.

In 1942, the Japanese began their occupation of the Andaman Islands. The one thing that he recalls vividly is returning home to packed bags and weeping family. His father whisked them to the port where there was a boat ready to take my grandfather and his family to India. Like a flower uprooted from its home, my grandfather was not only leaving all that he had known behind but his father as well.

Burden of responsibility
Once more he felt helpless, unable to do anything, but as the eldest son, he had to step up to care for his mother and siblings, while his father was absent. The burden of responsibility shaped him in such a way that even after he became a doctor, he felt responsible for everyone around him. After arriving back at their village, it took some time to get used to their new home. After settling down, they tried to get back into a normal routine.

However, on 30 January 1944 came news that the Japanese had massacred 44 Indian civilians, whom they believed were spies. The days were filled with tension and fear, until a letter arrived, which confirmed that his father was alive and well. Life continued; eventually, he completed his F. Sc. (higher secondary school certificate), at the age of 19. After this he applied to King Edward Medical University. He was admitted with ease and travelled to Lahore in March 1947. But before he could get into the swing of his studies, troubling news from India compelled him to return home, after just two months in Lahore.

Upon his arrival at his village, he learned that a nearby village had been burnt to the ground and its inhabitants killed. Terrified, he started planning to get his family out of the village and on a train to Pakistan. Rumours began circulating through the village that the Sikhs were beginning to gather and might attack them soon. Having spent a sleepless night, my grandfather and his family set out for Amritsar before daybreak. They were able to make it to the nearest city, Ropar, on the first day, where they stayed at a refugee camp for a few days.

As they had left abruptly, they had very little money. The situation became worse when his older sister’s children kept crying from hunger and sickness. The closest dispensary was a few minutes’ walk from their location and leaving the safety of the camp meant my grandfather would be vulnerable to attack. Unable to see past the children’s pain, he made the journey to the dispensary, where a Sikh doctor was on duty at the time. When he heard my grandfather’s plight, he was generous enough to not only provide free medication but also food and supplies.

My grandfather never forgot the doctor’s kindness – this was one story that he told all his grandchildren. This stranger’s kindness shone brightly in the dark abyss, in which my grandfather had found himself. It was this incident that inspired him to provide free treatment to anyone in need.

After several days at camp, they were finally able to get to Amritsar safely. However, my grandfather knew they wouldn’t be completely secure until they passed the border into Pakistan. The trains travelling to Pakistan were known to be attacked on the way. Often arriving filled with dead bodies at the station, although hesitant, they boarded the first train they found space in.

As they departed the station, my grandfather remembered there being pin-drop silence, as all the people were anxious about what lay ahead. As they approached the border, to his horror he saw riders approaching. Fear gripped him, as they heard screams coming from back carriages. My grandfather fell into prayer, praying for a miracle and promising that if he survived this, he would never miss his namaz prayers ever again.

As they approached the border, the army arrived and boarded the train. My grandfather’s prayers had been answered, and help had arrived. Many people perished on the journey, and when they reached Lahore, upon disembarking from the train, they saw the carnage that had befallen all the people that had been sitting in the back carriages. The bodies of the victims were being taken out of the train. My grandfather remembered his promise, and he never missed another prayer in his life.

He had managed to get his family out of India and safely to Lahore. Although it was tough in the beginning, he returned to medical school and continued his studies. In his fourth year, his father suffered a heart attack and the care of his family fell onto his shoulders. After five years of hard work, he graduated in 1952, after which he completed his house job and in 1954 started his private practice. He started working as soon as he could so that he could provide for his family.

Finally, after all the uncertainty, there came a sense of stability. He had started earning and, although meagre at first, his fortunes continued to grow. Once he felt he was financially stable, he looked to get married, the last of his siblings to do so.

Later life
At 36, my grandfather got married to my grandmother, Musarat Aziz. Their union, in the beginning, was filled with ups and downs but ultimately they got into a rhythm that led them from strength to strength. However, in her he found the perfect partner, and together they made a formidable team. My grandfather had learned to be cautious and did not like to attract attention to himself. But with my grandmother’s help, they were able to grow the family fortunes and not only build their hospital but also establish a fund to help the poor.

Their progress hit a stumbling block in 1965 when war erupted between Pakistan and India, and again in 1971. The political situation of Pakistan was unstable but together they continued to work through this difficult time.

In 1994, my grandmother laid the foundations of a proper hospital, where my grandfather’s small office was. Within four years, in 1998, they had opened the Mussarat Razzaque Trust Hospital, which provided free medication to widows and orphans, while still treating well-to-do patients. My grandfather had three children, one daughter and two sons; each of them became a successful doctor, following in their father’s footsteps. They inherited the hospital, working alongside their father.

Through all that he suffered, he became a man consumed by his work. He lived through World War Two and survived not only the partition of Pakistan and India but also the wars that followed in 1965 and 1971. He worked through these troubling times, ensuring that he could help as many people as possible by providing free treatment to any that needed it. He was a survivor and continued to work until the age of 90. However, his journey came to an end in 2019, when after a long battle with his illness, he passed away at 91. His story continues to inspire us, and we hope to live up to his expectations of us.

A simple act of kindness can make a tremendous impact on a person’s life. He left an impact on all the people that he helped and continues to inspire us through his stories. {