The Reality of Life

I haven’t posted for a while. Truth is, I’ve been struggling. Times are challenging, confusing and scary.

5 days ago, my beloved Aunt (eldest phupo) unexpectedly and suddenly passed away. She wasn’t unwell, she wasn’t old. Her heart just stopped. It was her time to go, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

These past few days have been especially difficult. I haven’t been able to put into words my feelings. The sudden shock, and realisation that we could leave this world at any time and any place. Of course, I knew that before, and I have felt it before. But new wounds are raw. And we find ourselves having to start healing all over again.
I know that my Phupo is in a better place. I know that she was a wonderful woman of exemplar character. Everyone who knew her loved her. She tried to make everyone feel loved. She wanted everyone to be happy, to laugh, to enjoy life. She never got angry or raised her voice. Her faith in God was firm. She wasn’t scared of death, and she didn’t need to be. She left so peacefully without a single sigh of pain or emotion, shortly after the Adhan for Fajr, her state as a traveller. She came from the UK as a visitor and passed away in Pakistan. Her mother left her 28 years ago, and her yearning to be with her mother was intense. And now, she is buried besides her.
I would appreciate if you could pray a Fatiha and Surah Ikhlas X3 for my Aunty, so that she may be rewarded. May Allah have mercy on her soul, forgive her for her shortcomings, and grant her Jannah al-Firdaus. Ameen.

This photograph is what I believe to be the last sunset my Aunt had witnessed.

Jun 2, 2020 - Reflections    No Comments


It’s so weird, isn’t it? Where do we really belong?

I’d identify myself as a British Pakistani. I have grown up with influences from both Pakistani and British culture. I’ve spent most of my life in London, started and completed my entire education in London, and now living in South Yorkshire.

I have also spent countless summers and school holidays in Pakistan, in the village and in the city.

In the UK I am seen as a Pakistani, and in Pakistan, I am seen as British. So, where then, do I belong?

… I belong wherever HE is.

Scenes from the village. Nature is beauty.

Lost Without You

“I never truly understood what the words ‘I miss you’ meant, until I reached for my Mum’s hand and it wasn’t there”…

Almost 6 years on and the pain doesn’t subside. But maybe I don’t want it to, because no pain might mean I’ve forgotten.

But sometimes it’s hard. Excruciating. The wound appears when you least expect it. Tears flow when alone and around others. You hear of others passing away and it brings everything back. You want others to understand so they can understand you, but you don’t want anyone to suffer the loss that you have suffered.

Others can hurt you all they want, but the pain of losing your mother beats them all…

My mother was born here. There is a real sense of calm whenever I visit this place. She played in these streets as a child, she grew up here and walked on these bricks, she touched these walls… This place is peace.