KARACHI: The sound of a metallic object crashing against a wall echoes in the middle of the night, followed by someone cursing loudly. “Where are you idiots?” A few lights are turned on and there’s the sound of hurried footsteps. A couple of young men, one with a fresh adult diaper and the other with toiletries and water, come rushing to the aid of the individual who is cursing.

“He is old and unable to even clean himself, so he is frustrated,” says Amanat Parwaiz, chairman and founder of Anmol Zindagi Old Age Home in North Nazimabad. “He is also angry because his family has disowned him. It’s understandable.”

The retirement home has 25 residents, including five women. “Some no longer have a family or anyone to visit them here, others get an occasional visitor,” says Parwaiz. He and his family also live here. “We are all they have,” he says. The home, a modest place built on about 400 square yards of land, is not owned by Parwaiz. He pays a monthly rent of Rs60,000 for it.

Life in the past few years has become very fast, leading to many such facilities being opened all over Karachi. With husbands, wives and children all out of the house for work or study, it can become difficult to find the time to care for elderly parents or grandparents.

Parwaiz is a physiotherapist who, after retiring from the Sindh Medical College in 2011, decided to do home visits. “It was during one such visit to a house in Bahadurabad that I met Zarina Bibi,” he explains. “She was old and bedridden but her mind was sharp. She would speak to me in English. She looked like Mohtarma Fatima Jinnah.” She was his first private client; the Anmol Zindagi Old Age Home’s signboard carries a picture of her.

The physiotherapist would visit the old lady regularly. During one of the visits, her son asked him to find some place for her to spend the final years of her life because he couldn’t afford to keep her at his place. “I wanted to bring her home with me but my father told me to do something better for her and the others like her, discarded by their families and society,” he muses. “That’s when I thought of setting up this NGO.”

“I got this place on rent but that, along with the advance, ate up my entire budget. I was unable to even get furniture. My property consultant came to my rescue. He knew me well as I was also his brother’s physiotherapist. He donated some old furniture and ceiling fans. Now, some people leaving behind their folks cooperate with us — just as others don’t. Donations in kind such as old clothes or food are also great help,” says Parwaiz.

Due to the lack of space, four people have to share a room. Parwaiz, his wife, two sons and a daughter take great pains to keep the place clean. His wife and daughter are also in charge of the kitchen. “I cook 60 chapatis at a time,” says his wife, Shamim Amanat. “I also get to hear the complaints if they don’t like the food. They yell at me and scold me while refusing to address me by my name. They call me ‘Fatso’. Once, when I was bathing one of the women, she scratched my eyes and I had to be rushed to the emergency room.”

The residents here are not necessarily on an even emotional keel. There is, for example, the schizophrenic former teacher Midhat, and ex-banker Yousuf Jamal who suffers depression. “Zarine is probably around 60 but insists she is 20,” says Parwaiz. “There are others, like 50-year-old Khalid, who behaves as though he is five and thinks we are his parents. He loves to go buy candy for himself.”

Parwaiz makes sure that everyone takes their medication on time, which he pays for. “We could use some zakat but on finding that we are Christian, few are willing to give us charity — even though all the aged residents here are Muslim,” he says. “There is a shortage of funds but we want to do everything within our meagre means to keep these poor souls happy. Some of them, like Abida Bibi whose entire family has settled in the US leaving her behind, have meal preferences. She likes pizza, biryani, dahi baray and bun kebab, so we get that for her and everyone else, whatever they would like to eat. There are also trips to the zoo and the beach.”

“Recently, Abida Bibi aired the desire to dye her hair and get fitted for dentures,” Parwaiz shares further. “I got her both. I’m sure she’ll look not a year older than 16 once they’re in,” he teases her as she hides her face behind her dupatta.

Still, sometimes, becoming weary of cranky people shouting at her, Shamim wishes to have a nice clean house all to herself and her family. “But then, I remind her that there is a God, who watches over us, and who has reserved a beautiful and peaceful place for us in the hereafter,” says Parwaiz.

Published in Dawn, April 18th, 2017