In the journey of life, we encounter many people, but rarely do we meet someone who embodies pure, unshakable peace. As I look back, my heart is filled with memories of my father, Ahamed Kutty Valiyathodi . He lived his life like a calm river—steady, quiet, and undisturbed by the storms around him.
The Man Who Never Raised His Voice
The most remarkable thing about my father was his temperament. In my entire life, I cannot remember a single time when he hit me or even raised his voice in anger. It wasn’t just with his children; I never once saw him argue, quarrel, or lose his temper with anyone. He possessed a level of patience that is rare in this world. Though I have tried to follow in his footsteps, I have never quite been able to match that perfect calmness. He was truly a unique soul.
The Grocery Shop: His World and Worship
For my father, his world revolved around his small grocery shop. It was started long before I was born and remained his sanctuary for decades. I still remember how it looked in my childhood—a humble structure with a traditional thatched roof made of dried palm leaves.
As the years passed, the shop changed along with our lives, eventually becoming a modern concrete building. He was a man of incredible discipline; he worked in that shop every single day, right up until the day before he suffered a stroke. To him, his work was his duty and his life.
A Gift That Opened the World
In the last century, long before mobile phones existed and when television was just a distant dream, my father gave me a gift that changed my life: a radio .
That small device became my window to the world. I spent hours listening to programs, writing letters to the station, and connecting with "pen pals" (tulaika suhruthukkal) all across Kerala. It was through that radio that my curiosity for the world was born.
Despite our financial constraints, he always tried to support my dreams. I remember a four-day Ziyarat trip through Tamil Nadu organized by my Madrasa. It cost 350 rupees—which was a very large sum for our family at that time. Yet, he made sure I could go. That journey gave me my first real taste of travel and the confidence to explore new places.
The Life of an Expatriate’s Father
Like many others working in the Gulf, I was not always able to be physically present when my father fell ill. While every son wishes to be at his father's side, the reality of providing financial support often keeps us away. I believe that life is a balance of sacrifices.
I do not feel a deep burden of guilt for not being there at the very final moment or for the funeral. I choose instead to hold onto the memories of him while he was alive, smiling, and full of spirit.
Our Final 100 Days Together
I am eternally grateful for the hundred days I spent with him during my last vacation, just three months before he passed away. Although he had been bedridden for eight years, he was remarkably happy during that time.
I remember wheeling him out to the courtyard so he could look at the plants and the world outside. We spent time trying different local foods that had recently become popular in our town. He loved food, and sharing those meals with him are memories I will always treasure.
He was able to spend around three years in our new house, which brought him much peace. It was my mother’s greatest blessing and devotion that she cared for him tirelessly throughout those eight years. Because of her, he never felt a lack of love or care.
A Heart Full of Good Memories
When I think about him today, my mind isn't filled with the sadness of his passing. Instead, it is full of the warmth of his smile, the sound of the radio, and the image of a man who worked hard and lived in total peace with the world.
About the Author
Ikbal Valiyathodi is the founder of Ishabil.com , a travel blog sharing budget-friendly travel stories, stopover hacks, and real experiences from around the world. He believes travel should be simple, honest, and possible for everyone.
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