Old home: Abandoned by their ‘own’
Elderly requires attention and care, especially by children and relatives.
RAWALPINDI:
Some betrayed by their kin, others by their kith, an old people’s home is always full of stories of being put out to pasture by the closest of relatives.
But then, it is often when hope seems lost that some of the great acts of nobility restore our faith in humanity.
Muhammad Siddique’s is one such story. The 70-year-old has been running an old people’s home for over five years now.
Located in the Gold Chamber Plaza near Naz Cinema on Murree Road, and named after Siddique’s parents, Mukhtar Begum and Ghulam Qadir, the MGQ Memorial Trust houses 22 old people, including seven women.
He says he finds peace at the old folks’ home. “I feel like a fish-out-of-water when I am away.”
Siddique laid the foundation of the old people’s home on January 4, 2009. He says people often drop their parents here, while hospitals sometimes contact them as well to take in elderly patients who have no caregivers available.
“We also try to convince people not to abandon their parents in old homes. Very few understand that their parents and relatives need their attention and care.”
A staff of seven looks after the residents. A total of 159 people have spent time at the shelter.
The average monthly expenditure of the shelter house is between Rs300,000 to Rs400,000, which is mostly borne by Siddique and his friends.
In terms of facilities, a washerman visits once-a-week to do the laundry, while a dispensary and a healthcare room are available for a doctor to regularly examine people’s blood pressure and weight, and help paralysed patients exercise.
There is a separate room for the disabled, where 3 CCTV cameras monitor the patients round the clock.
Ghulam Muhayuddin Chughtai, an inmate, hails from Gujranwala but spent most of his life in Karachi, where he worked as an audit officer in the Industrial Development Bank of Pakistan (IDBP). He sat on a sofa in his room while his wife Kalsum lay on the bed. The couple had a son who died in an accident. After the death of his son, Chughtai says their relatives took over all their possessions and left the couple in this old home. But it wasn’t the possessions he missed. It was the kitchen, where his wife would cook something delicious for him every day.
Zubaida Begum, 96, who hails from Rawalpindi, said that she had a son and four daughters, but none of them was willing to take care of her.
At first, they left her with her niece in the city, who later handed her over to the trust. With tears in her eyes, she said she still wishes her children well and prays for their well-being.
The head caretaker said Zubaida’s daughters are well-settled in Islamabad but have never bothered to visit her.
Shameem Begum, who is from Faisalabad, said she had a daughter who cares about her, but her son-in-law did not want her in his house. She was still happy that her daughter comes by to visit “once in a while”.
Another inmate said he ended up in the old home after his son and his wife both died.
As for Rasheed Sadiq, another housemate, the only words he was willing to say were, “Hai sub kuch per hai kuch nahin, apna wo he jo waqt pe kaam aey”. (We have everything and nothing, a true friend sticks through thick and thin)
Published in The Express Tribune, June 30th, 2014.
Some betrayed by their kin, others by their kith, an old people’s home is always full of stories of being put out to pasture by the closest of relatives.
But then, it is often when hope seems lost that some of the great acts of nobility restore our faith in humanity.
Muhammad Siddique’s is one such story. The 70-year-old has been running an old people’s home for over five years now.
Located in the Gold Chamber Plaza near Naz Cinema on Murree Road, and named after Siddique’s parents, Mukhtar Begum and Ghulam Qadir, the MGQ Memorial Trust houses 22 old people, including seven women.
He says he finds peace at the old folks’ home. “I feel like a fish-out-of-water when I am away.”
Siddique laid the foundation of the old people’s home on January 4, 2009. He says people often drop their parents here, while hospitals sometimes contact them as well to take in elderly patients who have no caregivers available.
“We also try to convince people not to abandon their parents in old homes. Very few understand that their parents and relatives need their attention and care.”
A staff of seven looks after the residents. A total of 159 people have spent time at the shelter.
The average monthly expenditure of the shelter house is between Rs300,000 to Rs400,000, which is mostly borne by Siddique and his friends.
In terms of facilities, a washerman visits once-a-week to do the laundry, while a dispensary and a healthcare room are available for a doctor to regularly examine people’s blood pressure and weight, and help paralysed patients exercise.
There is a separate room for the disabled, where 3 CCTV cameras monitor the patients round the clock.
Ghulam Muhayuddin Chughtai, an inmate, hails from Gujranwala but spent most of his life in Karachi, where he worked as an audit officer in the Industrial Development Bank of Pakistan (IDBP). He sat on a sofa in his room while his wife Kalsum lay on the bed. The couple had a son who died in an accident. After the death of his son, Chughtai says their relatives took over all their possessions and left the couple in this old home. But it wasn’t the possessions he missed. It was the kitchen, where his wife would cook something delicious for him every day.
Zubaida Begum, 96, who hails from Rawalpindi, said that she had a son and four daughters, but none of them was willing to take care of her.
At first, they left her with her niece in the city, who later handed her over to the trust. With tears in her eyes, she said she still wishes her children well and prays for their well-being.
The head caretaker said Zubaida’s daughters are well-settled in Islamabad but have never bothered to visit her.
Shameem Begum, who is from Faisalabad, said she had a daughter who cares about her, but her son-in-law did not want her in his house. She was still happy that her daughter comes by to visit “once in a while”.
Another inmate said he ended up in the old home after his son and his wife both died.
As for Rasheed Sadiq, another housemate, the only words he was willing to say were, “Hai sub kuch per hai kuch nahin, apna wo he jo waqt pe kaam aey”. (We have everything and nothing, a true friend sticks through thick and thin)
Published in The Express Tribune, June 30th, 2014.