Jubilee Jaleel - A Life Well Lived #ATOZCHALLENGE – J (2026)

"People tell me I was born laughing and haven't stopped till date. Hehehe!" 

"Really Mr. Kazrai?" asked Dr. Waria

"So that's what keeps you going so strong even at 90."

"Yes. I plan to do a full century. Keep a good stock of funny jokes. Your last one's gave me a blocked artery." Maarega kya (planning to kill me or what)? 

"Marey apke dushman (May your enemies die)."

All of five feet tall, he trudged out of the clinic, his frail knees struggling to support his protruding belly.

India had been his home since he knew what a home was. His ancestry was rooted somewhere in Iran, a memory blurred with the passage of time. Back to three generations, his family lived in a modest home in Surat, the only family he was aware of.

Early days were not easy. the bent man was once a lively youth seeking to make his mark in the world. Born in poverty, his home would frequently be darkened by power cuts, water cuts and a breakage here and there that needed fixing. Most days Jaleel would sit beneath the street light to study, notwithstanding the interruption by mosquitos or even rodents. He'd go back home and joke that they also looked eager to study. If they had their way, they would have got better grades than him. The gloomy mood of the household would suddenly change with a single funny innuendo. With a happier mood in the household, his mother's confectionary in their bakery would taste better. To this Jaleel would say to his dad, wife happy husband survives. Avun khush toh tamey jivo cho! (You are alive because she is happy. ) He would look suspiciously as his mother who would put a big crate of bread in the oven with her strong arms. She would grin back at him and often return a "Chup re ni! Bau bol bol karey chey! (Keep quiet, you talk too much!)" Actually, in their case, well-made products would look after the survival of the entire family. They couldn't afford to go wrong without dire consequences.

Soon, Jaleel became the heartbeat of the bakery. Visitors wouldn't leave without a packet of fresh bun maska and a piping hot irani chai. Seeing Jaleel's good cheer, they would sometimes tip them heavily.  People would visit just to banter with him and pause and laugh a bit to feel better about life. He had a witty one-liner on many things.

Suhshilya, he would holler to the Gujarati customer (in an attempt to mimic how his father addressed him). Haalooo! (Come)

Sushil Desai would greet him with a "Kem cho? Majama? (How are you? Well?)"

"Karza ma (In debt)." Jaleel would joke, laughing at his families penury. "Koi paisa wali gujarati chokri jo ni, jehne Irani pastry gamti hoye. Aa modha si kaay nay thay maru." (Find me a rich Gujarati girl who likes Irani pastry. My looks will not get me anywhere.)

Sushil would laugh back with a Chokkas (surely).

His ability to laugh at his penury earned him respect in the modest locality of the city buzzing with rich cloth merchants.

Annnaaaa, Vangee! he would call out to the South Indian Mr. Krishnan, purposely mispronouncing the word to engage him in a conversation.

"Brinjaaal nai hai me! (I am not a brinjal)." Mr. Krishnan would giggle back. "The word is vaanga."

"Vangee hoye to vando hoye, vango nahi." (Where a brinjal is involves, there will be objection, not welcome).

They broke into peals of laughter about Jaleel's most hated vegetable.

The magnetic personality that he was, he brought a lot of footfall to the shop. You could eat now, and pay later, but never leave without a smile.

Jaleel was a good, kindhearted soul who never missed the opportunity to help people. His luck changed when a marketing job brought him recognition and money. It almost never got to his head. He was still the same earthy boy from Surat who would chat up people from every quarter and culture.

He started a school for street boys. A little boy called Ankush Waria, exceptionally bright, and always grateful for the opportunity to study became his new best friend. This was a friendship forged beyond the barriers of age and culture and economic endowment. He would grow up to become a cardiac surgeon and the person who looked after Mr. Jaleel's heart health in his old age.

He would talk about good old days when his mother baked in a fire oven. The pastries then tasted like something else.

"In which room can be burn the iron furnace, so that we too can taste your cakes you made the traditional way? We've heard about them sooo very often by now." his grandson Arshad joked.

"I will sacrifice any room you like. first you decide whether you want to eat 'gluten' or no." 

The g-word was a 10-on-10 mimicry of a typical GenZ. Arshad recoiled. The room burst in grins.

He remembered the good old days when they ate things that had no labels. They were made before his eyes. His own accumen could vouch for them. 

Being a peace-loving human, ill luck knocked his door after many years of positivity in the form of an ischemic attack. He was rushed to the hospital and Dr. Waria put aside his other commitments to tend to his ICU patient nobody was prepared to lose.

Mr. Krishnan's family prayed for him in the Meenakshi Amman Temple in Madurai.

Sushil's grandchildren prayed for him at the Somnath Temple.

Dr. Waria, though agnostic, indulged in good karma hoping to pass on the benefits to his ailing patient.

Arshad literally lived in the hospital till Jaleel was closer to his original self.

While healing, he inched towards 90. Still walking on his two feet, still bringing smiles to whoever he met. There were many who celebrated his life. He chose not to harbour ill feelings for anyone, ever, in his life. A tall order for most of us. He lived with zero haters and many well-wishers. They fondly referred to him as Jubilee Jaleel who conquered one jubilee after another, and only his body had aged. In his mind he still had the quirkiness of an evergreen youth.

Today, as he walked out of the hospital, all sang the song he had taught them in some quaint language that sounded like Persian. However, a Irani man said most of the words didn't make sense to him. Probably they were archaic and not used anymore. To this, Jaleel gave a mischeivous chuckle. His own concontion of a song had gone viral beyond suspicion. 

It would preserve his legacy or positivity for future generations even when he stepped into his afterlife.