The halfway mark, Alhamdulillah! We have reached the middle of the blessed month cooped up in our homes and Nana was feeling the isolation. He missed his morning walks and interactions with his friends.

This morning Nana was arguing with mum about being a prisoner of the government in his own home. I laughed so hard when I heard him say that he should rather commit a murder and then at least he would have reason to be incarcerated. And when mum asked him who he would have chosen as his victim, he responded in exasperation, “You!”

With that he shuffled over to his favourite chair in the lounge and carefully manoeuvred himself into it. He had been arguing with mum about going over to his friends or having them over to visit and was greatly frustrated as she constantly tried her best to make him understand that this was impossible under the lockdown laws. But Nana was under the impression that the disease would not happen to us.

He sat there, muttering under his breath, “So tired of sitting in this house. And these good for nothing children have nothing to do but babysit me, like I need it!

So you’re wondering why we did not just allow Nana to call his friends. Well, Nana once said to us that talking to Uncle Essop was like watching paint dry as he suffered from Alzheimer’s and constantly lost track of the thread of conversation. Uncle Ahmed or Ahmed Bhai as Nana referred to him had a chest ailment which caused him to cough incessantly, which tested Nana’s’ patience. And lastly, Uncle Hamid, complained so much that it took too much time for Nana to get a word in edgewise, and he would complain that he was not Bill Gates who could afford to pay for Uncle Hamid’s’ ranting!

Not giving up, he shouted at mum, that he needed his dose of panchaat with his friends, and he would be getting it soon!

A few hours later, I caught Nana trying to escape over the garden wall! It was a sight I will remember for the rest of my life.

There he was, a chair propped against the wall and his right leg over the wall, and he was desperately trying to get his left leg to do the same, but he was stuck!

He saw me then, watching him incredulously, trying to escape like a common thief. He called to me in hushed tones, “Sofia, listen here, you little Shaytaan, do not stand there and watch me being stuck here. And do not even think of laughing!”

“Come here!  If you help me, I will pay you handsomely and I will help you find a good husband. Just help me sneak out to see my friends for thirty minutes.”

I watched him for a few seconds realising that if I did not assist him, he would surely suffer a heart attack. He was covered in sweat, breathing heavily and red in the face.

The entire event remained our secret on condition that I would not spill the beans on him if he stopped trying to escape and stayed home where he was safe from the invisible menace that posed greater threat to him than to us. But I knew how much he missed his walks to the masjid and the chats with his group of oldies.

He did not stop trying to convince mum to take him over to one his friends for a short time. At times, he would lament that his time was limited, and he wanted to have his last words with his band of friends before he made his exit from the dhunya.

Anas ibn Malik reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “No youth honours his elders, but that Allah will appoint someone to honour him in his old age.” (Sunan al-Tirmidhī 2022)