old readers of this blog would remember I hated to receive the dreaded phone call. (old readers raise their hands…. thought so.. anyway) the dreaded phone call used to come usually in the middle of the night, n had one response, ‘puhunch raha hoon’ followed by a mad car ride to PNS Shifa. You see, it was when one of the grand parents got too sick, n needed to be taken to the hospital.

yesterday, I got another call, this one being more sinister, more shattering and more nerve wrecking phone call of all….

“mansoor, beta tum jaldi say ajao..”

“what happened?” another fight?

“buss, ajao…. its… its… its ur dad!”

“what happened to dad?” thinking the worse, only to realize it wasn’t even close….

“he’s just had a heart attack! he’s in the hospital and the doctor is saying he might not make it through… buss ajao! jaldi”

I felt as if a train had just hit me.. n as the implications started settling in, it was as if it was still running over my body.. its tracks digging in to my body like there was no tomorrow….

“ill be there from the first flight I can get on.. don’t worry.. i’m coming!”

I got the call at 2:35 AM, by 4:50 AM I was on the PIA flight bound for Islamabad..

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its now 22 hours after I got the call, my dad is right in front of me.. sleeping, breathing regularly. By Gods mercy, he’s pulled through. He’ll be here for another couple of days, but he’ll make it. Thanku God!