Baba Baba Kundi Kholo – Urdu Story by Nazeer Anbalvi
Translated By Hassaan Ahmad Awan
بابا بابا کنڈی کھولو” از نذیر انبالوی”
Baba Baba, Open the Latch by Nazeer Anbalvi
Click Here To Read In Urdu Language
Three-year-old Hamza, peeking out of the window into the veranda, called out:
“Papa, Papa…”
“Yes, son,” Khalid Sahib replied without lifting his eyes from the newspaper.
“Papa… Papa,” Hamza called again.
“Son, come outside.”
“I want to go to Mama… Mama, Mama…” saying this Hamza burst into loud sobs.
His father looked at him with affectionate eyes and said:
“Son, your Mama will be here very soon. She has gone with your aunt to the market to bring you delicious things. Come, eat a banana.”
The moment Hamza heard the word banana, he immediately came out of the room and began playing in the veranda. His father remained engrossed in the newspaper. A little later, the sound of a latch being fastened on the room’s door reached his ears. Like lightning, he rushed to the door, but by then it was too late. Hamza had locked himself inside the room.
“Hamza, son, open the latch,” his father’s voice reached him. Hamza tried to open it, but instead of unlocking, it jammed further. Finding himself imprisoned in the dark room, Hamza began to cry.
“Papa… Papa… Mama… Mama… Papa…”
“Son, try harder… come on, bravo, open the latch.” Saying this, his father pushed the door inwards with force, but it was an iron door—nothing could be done. Hamza kept crying. Khalid Sahib didn’t know what to do.
Had there been a phone in the house, he could have called someone for help. He had just returned from the office when his wife, Sameera, left for the market with her sister. Consoling Hamza, he rushed outside to find help. After a while, he was knocking on the door of a house. A woman’s voice came from inside:
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Khalid.”
“Khalid? Which Khalid?”
“I live in Street No. 3. If there’s a man in the house, please send him out.”
“There’s no man at home.”
There was no use staying there anymore. Fifteen minutes wasted, yet no helper was found. The door of the room was still shut. The sound of Hamza’s cries tore his heart apart. Helpless, he picked up an iron rod lying in the courtyard and began striking the door madly. The banging frightened Hamza even more. His cries grew louder.
“My son, hush, hush, I’m opening the door right now.”
Throwing the rod aside, Khalid shook the door violently, hoping the latch might loosen. But it was too strong. Every passing moment deepened his anxiety. Hamza had now been locked inside for half an hour.
“Hamza, son, stop crying. I’m just about to open the door.”
After reassuring him, Khalid pushed with all his strength. One side of the door shifted slightly, creating a small gap through which light entered. Khalid peeped inside:
“Just a little more, son, the door is about to open.”
Sweat poured down his forehead, dripping onto the ground. The thought of his son made him restless beyond measure. He was shattered when Hamza, still sobbing, said:
“Papa, water… Papa, water…”
“I’ll give you water right now.” He said it, but forgot—how could the water reach Hamza through the iron door? The glass was in his hand, but his child was beyond reach.
“Papa, water… Papa, water…”
The cries hammered his brain. Hamza had cried himself into exhaustion. At last, he collapsed unconscious near the door.
“My son! My Hamza! O Allah, help me!”
He turned outside again, eyes searching desperately for someone. But silence reigned all around. Just then, a rickshaw stopped nearby. Hamza’s mother and aunt stepped out.
“Khalid Bhai, why are you standing outside?”
“It’s Hamza…”
“What’s happened to Hamza?” Sameera interrupted, not letting him finish.
“Hamza locked the door from inside.”
“How long has it been?” Sameera asked anxiously.
“Nearly an hour, I think.”
“Oh, my Hamza, my Hamza!” Sameera wailed bitterly.
“Humaira, take care of your sister. I’ll bring a carpenter in the rickshaw. I’ll be right back.” The rickshaw vanished in moments.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, Khalid returned with a carpenter. By then Sameera had wept herself into misery, while Humaira tried consoling her. The carpenter and Khalid pushed the door inward until the latch became visible. Hamza’s little body could also be seen lying on the floor.
“My dear Hamza, my Hamza, take him out!” Sameera cried.
“Don’t worry, sister,” the carpenter replied. “Your child will be out in a moment. I can see the latch now. I’ll cut it with a saw.”
Sameera’s sobs were so loud that if this neighborhood had been populated, a crowd would have gathered. But there were only a few houses, the rest empty plots. Soon the saw cut through the latch. They all rushed inside. Sameera snatched Hamza up, pressing him to her chest, kissing his forehead. She sprinkled water on his face, and he opened his eyes. At that moment, it felt as if spring had replaced autumn.
After sending the carpenter off, Khalid spoke to Sameera:
“This latch is open now, but one more latch remains.”
“Which latch?” Sameera asked, surprised.
“There is one… you just prepare yourself.”
“Where are we going?”
“To Sargodha. Right now.”
“But why?”
“To open a latch.” Khalid sighed deeply.
The bus sped along the motorway toward Sargodha. Khalid was lost in deep thought. Memories of the past circled his mind—especially one bitter memory of childhood.
One morning, little Khalid reached school wearing badly worn shoes. His playmate Nawaz said to Jafar:
“Look, this is Patwari Noor Din’s son Khalid—and look at his shoes.”
“These shoes look a hundred years old,” Jafar laughed. “Compare him with Tufail, Patwari Jalal’s son, who comes every day in fine clothes and shiny shoes. Khalid’s father is stingy, miserly!”
Bilal’s sarcastic remark cut Khalid deeply. He grabbed Bilal’s collar:
“Hold your tongue!”
“Why should I? Let go of my collar!” Bilal shouted. The other boys intervened and broke them apart.
Whenever his classmates mocked him, Khalid would confront his father: Why weren’t they as rich as Patwari Jalal’s family? His father explained gently: “You’re too young now. When you grow up, you’ll understand.”
And indeed, when he grew up, he understood. But instead of praising his father’s honesty, he complained: “No one rewards you for honesty!” His father often replied: “Whether anyone rewards me or not, my conscience is satisfied. That is my reward.”
This debate was common at home. Then Khalid’s mother fell ill and passed away. As the only child, Khalid should have cared for his father, but instead, he compared him endlessly with Jalal.
When a man looks above himself, he worries; when he looks below, he is grateful. Khalid looked upward—and grew bitter.
After matriculation, one day he slipped away to the city, leaving behind a letter: he wanted to earn wealth and they should not search for him. Noor Din bore the blow with patience, believing one day his son would return. And now… that day had come.
Hamza’s father was on his way to his own father. Glancing at his watch again and again, he yearned to open the latch he had locked with his own hands. Two hours later, knocking on the door, he said:
“Baba, open the latch… Baba, open the latch… I can’t breathe!”
When the latch clicked open, seeing his father he cried:
“Baba, forgive me!”
Noor Din was silent, but trembling lips and tearful eyes betrayed his emotions. Embracing his son, the old father asked about Sameera and Hamza. Khalid replied:
“This is your daughter-in-law, and Hamza is your grandson. It is Hamza who brought me back to you.”
“How so?” Noor Din asked.
“If he hadn’t latched himself inside that room today, I would never have felt what pain parents endure in separation from their child. Baba, I wronged you greatly. Forgive me.”
“Khalid, my son, now that you have returned, my anger is over. Not only mine—Allah’s anger too, for our beloved Prophet ﷺ has said: Allah’s pleasure lies in the father’s pleasure, and Allah’s anger lies in the father’s anger.”
Saying this, he took Hamza into his arms and showered him with affection. In conversation, he revealed that Patwari Jalal was facing a trial for land fraud, and his son Tufail was imprisoned for robbery.
Hearing of their fate, they realized: the path of honesty is the path of safety. At that very moment, Khalid resolved that he too would walk on the path of honesty—so that never again would he have to cry:
“Baba, open the latch… Baba, open the latch.”
