Shakir Husain Abdeali Merchant worshipped work and harboured only one wish: to be able to continue working until his last breath. Ever since he retired as the Chief Metropolitan Magistrate in 1994, he was practising law in Mumbai courts. He did so — until 7/11, when he died in the Jogeshwari train blast.

Wife of 41 years, Rehana, calls him the ‘‘gentleman husband’’ while daughter Naseem and son Zulfikar don’t remember a single day when he raised his voice. Fellow magistrates or colleagues in the Bar share similar attributes about him: disciplined, methodical and straight-forward.

‘‘Often, he would tell me how people complimented him on his good health and said he looked younger than his age,’’ says Rehana at their apartment in Borivali near Eksar Lake. Today, more than six months after his death, the family still can’t come to terms with the painful truth that he is no more.

These days they tend to spend more time as a family, at times comforting each other and reliving some of their best memories of Shakir. One comfort has been The Indian Express series, ‘‘187 Mumbai Life Stories’’, to try and gather strength by learning about the ways others are confronting their pain.

‘‘It is through these Mumbai Life Stories that we realised there are so many families whose plight is worse than ours,’’ says Rehana who has meticulously kept clips of each article.

A relative from Pune called her in October to ask if Shakir had been written about in the series. ‘‘I immediately went to get the paper to see what was being written. I liked it so much that from the next day we started getting the paper to read about the victim’s families,” says Rehana.

On many afternoons, she says, these stories lighten her pain as she realises she isn’t alone. She reached out to one of them after reading their story, a family from Borivali who were also from her native place in Nashik.

“The family was hesitant, but I spoke to them and shared our feelings and experiences. When we read about others going through the same thing, it feels that we are not alone in this. At least humara dard thoda kam hota hai,” she says.

Both Bohra Muslims, Shakir and Rehana are from Malegaon. “Ours was an arranged marriage. My father always wanted to get him as his son-in-law,” she says. “Hardworking, meticulous and systematic. That’s how I remember him when we came to Bombay in 1965 and he was a practising lawyer. At home, he was a gentleman. Very tidy.”

Daughter Naseem (39), living with her parents along with her son ever since her divorce, has her own stories about her father. “He was always calm and I have never seen him angry in my life.”

He loved home food, recalls Naseem. “As though his sole incentive to earn was for that. His staple afternoon diet was chappatis and sabji. He took it in his lunchbox for the last 40 years. Even when he was chief metropolitan magistrate. He was a workaholic.”

So, when Shakir would return from work, he would keep himself busy with matters relating to their housing society where he was secretary.

Shakir was also a man of his word. If he had to refuse a case, recalls Rehana, he would not hesitate to say that his services would be of no help to the person. “He was frugal and never worked for money. It was his passion for law that made him carry on practising.”

His colleagues, too, respected him for those qualities. His family received a number of condolence letters saying so. “He was a gentleman to the core,” writes senior advocate A G Sabnis in one such letter. “He did not mince his words while expressing himself which is a rare quality nowadays. I found him to be straightforward, punctual and hard working. I admired him for his sound knowledge of law.”

However much they try, the Merchants can’t seem to forget the events of 7/11. One of Shakir’s daily habits was to sit with grandson Kaizar and help him with his studies. And so, everyday, the little boy would wait at the verandah to see his grandfather come home. That day, he waited until midnight.

The next day, they brought Shakir’s body home.

These days, his grandmother says, he wakes up to ask about the story written that day. Daily, as Rehana’s daughter Naseem leaves for work, she picks up the paper on the way. Her first call to the house is to tell Kaisar about the Mumbai Life story of the day.

“He is waiting for his Nana’s to appear,” says Merchant.