My mother, Fatima Bibi, was the eldest daughter of Hadhrat Moulvi Muhammad Ilyas Khan Sahib who lived in Mastung in Baluchistan. Perhaps my mother was born there. She was very dear to him. She was most fortunate in that a spiritual person of such a high order brought her up. The name of her mother was Ashraaf Bibi.

She was still very young when she was married to my father. Soon after their marriage, my parents returned to live in our ancestral village Mohib Banda and that is where they spent the rest of their lives. Their love, affection, co-operation and mutual respect were a shining example for the whole family to follow. Never, throughout my life, did I ever see any unpleasantness between them. As in those days it was not customary for the girls to be educated, my mother’s learning had not gone very far. At home, she learnt to recite the Holy Quran. Habitually she would perform ablution before reciting a portion of the Quran. Every single day, in a subdued voice, we heard her recitation.

My mother was very fond of clean and neat clothes. She would wear fresh clothes every day. Early in the morning, she would put a little oil on her head and comb her hair meticulously. Hospitality was a distinguishing feature of her character. As our village was quite close to Peshawar, usually on Sundays, many Ahmadi friends visited us. After spending a whole day with my father, in the evenings, the visitors would go back to Peshawar. While some of the visitors were our relations, others were just Ahmadi friends. My mother remained engaged in taking care of them and took great pleasure in doing so. She was quite an accomplished cook and was particularly famous for her pulao and her parathas.

I particularly noticed that my mother never indulged in backbiting. Normally, women do get into this habit but fortunately, by the Grace of Allah, my mother was immune to this weakness. Never did I hear her speak against anyone. She would, on occasion, find herself at the receiving end of verbal abuse but she always kept her calm. Anger was no part of her character. She never raised even her little finger over any of her children or grandchildren. I never saw her indulge in malediction. When she was hurt, she would keep quiet but from her calm, we would know that she was hurt. Soon she would forget everything as if nothing had happened. She had great love for and a deep involvement in prayers. Whether on her feet or seated she would always remain engaged in supplications. After reciting Durood and incantation, she would blow over (someone). She would often pray aloud. However, most of the time, from the movement of her lips, one could guess that she was engaged in supplications.

She never thought of her own comfort. During the summer months, early in the afternoons, she would anxiously wait for my return from school. She would have some cold water placed in the bathroom for me to take a bath. Then I would eat and although I did not want her to, my mother would keep on fanning me.

After my midday meal, I would sleep for a while but my mother did not. Later on when I was at a school in Qadian, after vacations, my mother would prepare something for me to eat on the way back to Qadian. She would also provide some home baked biscuits and cakes for me to take with me.

Alas, while I lived in a boarding house and later on when I departed for London, I was unable to benefit much from my mother’s doting company. My brother, Col. Nazir Ahmad, was more fortunate in that in this respect he enjoyed physical closeness of our mother for a longer period. He was therefore enabled to render service to her. Compared with me, in a way, Nazir Ahmad was closer to her.

Mother paid special attention to the matter of the upbringing of my sisters. As we were the only Ahmadi family in our village, my sisters were unable to interact with other Ahmadi girls. However, our mother adequately filled the gap. She taught all her children to recite the Holy Quran. She would make sure that her children offered their prayers regularly and to crown all, she built a protective wall around them with her prayers.

My mother was a Moosia and was buried in the Bahishti Maqbara where my father had been laid to rest.

“O my Lord, close to Yourself, locate them in an eminent place in the Paradise. Amen”