Sabeeha Rehman's Blog

January 6, 2022

Is New Year Greeting Haram?

Its still January, so I can still talk about the new year.

“Happy New Year,” said one person to another on one New Year morning, January 1.
Nothing unusual about that, right? Well, one of them didn’t think so. Actually took offense. I am not kidding.
“It is not our new year. Our new year starts in Muharram. For one Muslim to greet another Muslim with a Happy New Year greeting on January 1 is haram,” he pontificated, waving an accusing finger at the greeter. Haram means ‘forbidden by God’.
Really!
By now you must have gathered that both people were Muslim. I have already ranted and raved, thrown my hands up in the air, rolled my eyes, and stopped short of …. Now that I am sober, may I share with you my take on this Happy New Year business, or rather, the take of a friend who took the time to ponder, reflect and find the answer in the Quran. Before I go into the explanation, I will give away the ending. It is not un-Islamic to offer a New Year greeting or have a new year resolution. We are talking Gregorian New Year.

Chapter 103 of the Quran is titled ‘Asr’ or ‘The Flight of Time.’ May I quote it? Its brief, so don’t click out.
“Consider the flight of time! Verily, man is bound to lose himself unless he be of those who attain to faith, and do good works, and enjoin upon one another the keeping to truth, and enjoin upon one another patience in adversity.”
She interpreted it for me as follows: Time is the most severe form of loss. Throughout one’s lifetime, man is in a state of loss, because time is passing and we are losing time. We are all in a catastrophic state of loss and wasting our life if we are not understanding our faith. The purpose of life is to use your time to do good work. The New Year is an acknowledgement that time has passed; another year gone by. A time to reflect on the past year and make some promises to oneself about making the best of the time God has given us in this coming new year. Sounds like a new year resolution to me. And top it off by wishing all who we come into contact with that this new year be a blessed one, a happy one, and a joyous one.

The stages of our life are like stars; each shines in its own light; and each is to be cherished. Childhood with its innocence and wonder; adolescence with its quest for discovery; youth with its vigor, beauty and charm; and the golden years with its well-earned wisdom and freedom. The passing of each stage signals a new opportunity for the next phase, to use it to grow, to better oneself and one’s family, community, and environment. I am 70, and in this moment, I feel that these are the best years of my life. I have relished the joy of raising my children; I have served my parents—may they rest in peace—I have retired from a 9-5 job—it was invigorating while it lasted—and now I have the freedom to indulge in everything I always wanted to do but did not have the time for; and I can use my lifetime experiences of lessons learned to my new life as a grandmother, a writer, a public speaker, and an interfaith activist. I can be there for my grandchildren in ways that I couldn’t for my children. Time is passing; another year is gone by; and I am going to utilize my time to get the most out of it: this day, this week, this month, the Gregorian year, the Hijra year, whatever year; its time, no matter which box you put it in, so I plan to reap it for all it has to offer. So help me God.
Have a Happy, Healthy, Fruitful, Joyous, Meaningful, and everything-you-always-wanted New Year. May your new year resolutions come true.
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Published on January 06, 2022 08:50

April 6, 2021

Where Did I Come From

If you were an adopted child, you would have wondered about it. Probably still are. Did you happen to read Steve Inskeep’s For Fifty Years, I Was Denied the Story of My Birth in the New York Times on March 28? He was adopted at birth. It was a ‘closed adoption.’ The biological parents and adoptive families were not allowed any identifying information about each other. Whereas he knew he was adopted, he knew nothing about the woman who gave birth to him, his father, or if he had any siblings. It was only in 2018 when the Indiana law changed—the state in which he was adopted—that he was able to obtain his adoption documents and learn about his mother. The story wrenched enough hearts that the New York Times today, replaced its editorial page with letters from people who have spent their life yearning to know where they came from, from birth parents who yearn to know what happened to their baby, arguing if adoption records be open. I ran through my pack of tissues.

Should adoption records be made accessible? Are we rocking the boat by allowing adoptees to reconnect with their biological families? Do adoptees have a right to know? Psychologists, ethicists, et al can deliberate and make arguments for both sides, perhaps adding the caveat of mutual consent.

Decades ago—and I wasn’t even looking for it—I found the answer in the Qur’an, instructing mankind to call children by their father’s name. I dug deeper. What I learned was that the faith allows adoption, but it has to be an open adoption. The child should know his lineage and be identified as such. The Qur’an repeatedly urges us to take care of orphans. You can raise them as you raise your own, but there are boundaries. The boundaries maintain appropriate separation of the sexes, ensure legitimacy of relationships to prevent incest, and protect the inheritance rights of biological relations, while making provisions for adopted children. Adopted children are not in the line of inheritance, but one can will up to one-third of one’s assets for an adopted child.

Why would incest be a consideration? Allow me to explain. In Pakistan, adoption among families was quite common when I was growing up in the sixties. A couple is childless, a family member offers to give them their next born, they accept, the baby is handed over at birth, and the non-biological parents become the legal parents. Why not adopt a child from an orphanage? Why deal with the messiness of in-family adoptions? Because prospective parents want to know what they are getting, as in good genes. It’s an ‘all in the family’ attitude. Pakistanis are clannish.

So, do the parents tell the child the truth of where he or she came from? That the nice gentleman the child calls ‘uncle’ is really his biological father? In Pakistan, that is? Some tell, some don’t. And when they don’t is when they run into trouble. That is where incest becomes relevant. This dialogue actually took place:

Son: Dad, there is something I have to tell you.Dad: Sure son, what is it?Son: I think I am falling in love with …. and one day I would like to marry her.Dad: Son, we need to talk.At that point, Dad had to tell son that the girl he is falling in love with, is his sister.

There is more to the wisdom of open adoption, which we are discovering in the age of science and technology. Family medical history is a big one. Who qualifies to be a kidney donor? Is one at risk for heart disease? Then there is the DNA testing, making closed adoption a moot issue. And as the centuries roll by, who know what else will make sense to us—about open adoption. What American lawmakers are coming to terms with today i.e. the right to know, God, the All-Knowing, ordained in the Qur’an in the 7th century.

Tell the child where he came from.
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Published on April 06, 2021 09:10 Tags: adoption

February 17, 2021

Staying In Love

We Refuse to Be Enemies How Muslims and Jews Can Make Peace, One Friendship at a Time by Sabeeha Rehman “I can’t live without you,” I called my husband.
“What happened?” he asked, knowing that this was not a romantic Valentine’s Day thing.
“The printer jammed.”
“Oh!” He chuckled.
But printer aside, that is the truth.

I didn’t marry for love. I married because culture required that I get married after passing the baccalaureate milestone. I married Khalid because it was the collective will of the extended family that he was the most suitable boy. The stuff arranged marriages are made of. So, I married. Then I fell in love. Not the dizzying, heart fluttering, dreamy stuff Elvis song ‘But I can’t help falling in love with you’ is made of. There was no unrequited love, no heartbreaks, no anxiety of he-loves-me/he-loves-me-not, and my heart never missed a beat. Dating was out of the question: we were already married. No barriers, no pressure, no wondering where this relationship would lead.

So, what kind of a falling in love was it?
It was how he made me feel.
This is the man I wanted to be with.
This is the man I want to look up to.
This is the man whose voice moves me.
This is the man who makes my heart swell.
When he talks, I see compassion.
When he walks, I see grace.
When he smiles, he makes me smile.
Whatever he says, sways me.
He can do no wrong; he can wrong no one.
I adore him.

That is how I felt in those first few days, weeks and months—the honeymoon.
Our talk was made up of:
How much sugar do you take in your tea?
Do you prefer to sleep on the right side of the bed or left?
So, you are a morning person.
That’s not your kind of music? How about Engelbert Humperdinck?
Do you prefer non-stick or stainless-steel cookware?
Aren’t I lucky to have you!

Months later, all we could talk about was my growing pregnancy, will it be a boy or girl?
I glowed at the look on his face when he felt the baby move.
Our talks shifted to diapers, baby’s feed time, and ‘are we spoiling baby?’
When he would take over baby care after a long day’s work, I loved him all the more.
I loved to watch him teach little Saqib to ride his tricycle.
My heart beamed as he sled down the slope with the boys, tumbling down with them.
As he bent to help Asim with his homework, I would resist the urge to run my hand through his curly, wavy hair.
I stayed in love.

When I picked the house I wanted, he bought it. It had to be love.
Now we talked about Sunday school, then SAT prep, college choices, and the fear of empty nest.
With each passing phase of our life, children on their own, married with children, he eased my stress, calmed me down, and my admiration swelled.
I like him.

Now it’s just the two of us, and I don’t feel alone. The pandemic has had us shuttered in for almost a year. Yet, I don’t want for more. I have him.
What do we talk about now? Politics, joys of virtual grandparenting, a book I am reading, he will tell me stories he just read with that animated look of wonder, or come up with ideas for promoting my book, his eyes lighting up with excitement. And I bask in whatever that feeling is.
It must be love.
Happy Valentine’s Day
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Published on February 17, 2021 11:13 Tags: love, marriage, valentine-s-day

October 9, 2016

How To Help Readers Discover Your Books

What I Learned from Your Expert Nation (YEN)
Brooklyn Book Festival. Sept. 2016

3 Tips to Getting Started
When does your book launch begin? When you start writing your book.
Every story begins by building relationships. Build relationships with those who can put you in touch with your reader.
Book title is key.

5 Communication Channels
Your Social Media: Use your Blog, Twitter, & Facebook to talk about your book.
Your website: you have 40 seconds to get their attention.
Your owned media—you control the message and branding.
Your paid media: Ads on Facebook, or other media.
Your earned media: your reviews

5 Tips on Guest Blogging
Find leaders in your area and build a relationship
Write about their blog
Link to their blog
Write to them
Participate, comment, & compliment.

5 Tips on Website Development
Get your own domain.
Keep it simple.
Menu options: Home, Book, Contact, & Media (images of book, your image, bio, etc.)
A 30-second video
Q&A about you and your book.

Establish A Mailing List
Your website should have an Email sign-up option (e.g. Mailchimp). It is known to result in high volume of sales.
Have your Facebook friends sign up for your e-mailing list
At speaking engagements, have a sign-in sheet and get email addresses.

Social Media
Use it to direct traffic to your site
Have an Author Facebook Page with your name: Take out Ads. Post videos on ads. Target authors

4 Tips on Visibility in the Media
Write essays & Op-Eds to make yourself known as an author.
Your essay topics should be on leading news stories; contribute something relevant.
Stay tuned to Pop Culture: read what people are writing about.
Are you an expert in anything? Write on those topics
Note: Keep your publicist in the loop

BUILD RELATIONSHIPS
Support other writers and publicize them
Put a review on Goodreads, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other similar sites.
Tweet about them; promote them on Facebook.

META DATA: HELPFUL LINKS
Book Metadata:
Managing Metadata: Mastering Mountains of Minutiae by Mindy Klasky
http://bit.ly/2cT4d51

Mastering Metadata: The Key to Marketing Your Books by Carla King
http://bit.ly/2d7vGzH

Web Metadata and SEO
How to Optimize Your Meta-Titles, Descriptions and Keywords by Robin Burton
http://bit.ly/2cJcRS0

Seven Essential Content Marketing Lessons from Rand Fishkin’s Whiteboard Fridays by Michelle Lin
http://bit.ly/2cyRgkM
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Published on October 09, 2016 11:45 Tags: authors, marketing, promotion, social-media, writers

July 5, 2016

10 Memoir Writing Tips

I am no authority on memoir writing. But I did write one, and am happy to share with aspiring writers, how I went about it. It worked for me. I hope it works for you.

1. Five Ways To Get Started

There is only one way to get going: Start writing. Just do it. Don’t loose sleep over a theme. Don’t fret over an outline. Just write, and see where it takes you. Once you get going, you will find your voice.

Set a time of the day to write. It should be your most productive time. If you are a night person, write at night. I am a morning person. Clear your daily calendar and stick to that time. It takes discipline, and you will need that.

How much should you write a day? It doesn’t matter. No need to set a goal as to # of pages, or number of hours. Just write until you can write no more. My average was 3 hours, with a range of 1 to 5 hours. Don’t push yourself.

Clear your work area of distractions, shut down your phone and put it out of sight, and send your significant other in the other room.

Take stretch breaks.

2. IS THERE PREP WORK?
Yes.
Read books on memoir writing. Your library will become your best friend.

Read memoirs. Many memoir writing books offer suggested lists of memoirs. At the end of the day, you will rely on your own writing style, but this exercise will broaden your perspective, give you ideas, and much reading pleasure.

Take classes. Memoir writing classes are offered at your local college, if you are in the U.S. Go to seminars, conferences, or wherever.

Stock up on resources: Dictionary, book of styles (Chicago or New York Times), book on grammar/punctuation, and a thesaurus.

Read, read, & read. A good writer is a good reader. Set a goal. I read a book a week, and I can do better. 50 pages a day, and you are done in 6 days. Up that, and you can do more.

3. WHAT ELSE?

Join a Writers Group. Or form one. When I took my first writing class by Sidney Offit at Hunter College, I asked my classmates if they wanted to form a writers group. They did. We started meeting once a month – the five of us. Two years later, we are still meeting. Each of us reads for 10 minutes, and then we critique. I owe my book taking shape to my writers group.

Book Readings: Go to as many as you can. They are free (unless it’s a celebrity and you are required to purchase a book to get in). The writing tips you pick up just listening to various authors, is remarkable.

Network: Go wherever there is an opportunity to meet fellow writers. The writer community is a very open, friendly, and resourceful community. They will help you, connect you, offer you writing tips, and you will end up making friends. Some may even offer to read your manuscript for you. How cool is that!

Bookreads: Sign up. Its free. You are now part of a readers community, and get insights into good reads, all for the good of honing your writing skills.

4. WHAT ABOUT THE OUTLINE?
Aaah ye!. So somewhere in the early stages of writing, you will find your voice, and you will know what it is you want to write about. At that point, if I ask you, ‘so what is your book about?’, you should be able to answer my question in a 15-second elevator speech. If you cannot, then start honing it in: “What is the book about?”

Now you can do your outline.

A word of caution: don’t let your outline constrain you. Remember, its not a term paper. It’s a piece of work laden with emotion. If you have to push the boundaries, do so. It’s your story.

5. WHEN DO I EDIT?
Don’t edit as you go along. I made that mistake. Just write, and don’t look back.

When you are done with your manuscript, let it rest for about 4-6 weeks, and don’t even think about it. Take a long break. I learnt this from Stephen King's book 'On Writing'.

Come back, print it out, and start redlining it. Edit & cut, edit & cut, edit & cut. Take out anything that is not driving your story forward. So what if it really happened!

Cut, Cut, Cut. Read a paragraph over and over again, and ask yourself, ‘can I cut it further?’
Now you are ready to show draft #2 to your first reviewer.

6. WHO SHOULD REVIEW MY MANUSCRIPT?
Definitely do not show it to your spouse while you are writing? He/she is bound to say how wonderful it is. Restrain yourself.

When you are done with your first edit, show it to your spouse or significant other.

EDIT again.

Share draft #3 with a few people you trust and whose opinion you value.

EDIT again.

Show draft #4 to someone who doesn’t know you. It’s a memoir, and you need that unbiased opinion.

EDIT again; and again.

If you can afford it, get a free-lance editor to edit your almost-final version.

7. HOW MANY DRAFTS SHOULD I GO THROUGH?
As many as you can. I went through six drafts before handing it in to my publisher. Ten would have been better.

8. BE CAREFUL
You don’t want to hurt people’s feelings, or violate their privacy. If you are using real names, get permission.

9. REMEMBER
Be compassionate and forgiving.

10. AND DON’T FORGET THE ‘F’ WORD
Have FUN
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Published on July 05, 2016 08:33 Tags: memoir-writing

June 26, 2016

How To Promote Your Book. What I Learned About On-Line Marketing

An Evening With Fauzia Burke

4 DESIGN TIPS
First impressions are made in one-tenth of a second.
• Your photo: Look friendly. It should make people want to work with you.
• Book Jacket: It should represent you, and your work.
• Website: Get it up & running 6 months before your book is published. Get it professionally done. Readers will judge the quality of your work by the quality of your website.
• Graphics: Professional look

5 RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
• Blog: Show your expertise. It will allow readers to judge your writing style. Blog on your blog, on your website, and post your blogs on LinkedIn—its free, and does not require an exclusive. Contact bloggers you admire, suggest a few topics to them and ask if you can guest post on their blog. It will widen your audience.
• Social Media: Get active; engage with your friends & followers.
• Mailing List/Newsletter: Very, very important. Get started now. Generally, the open rate is 2%; for authors it is 50%. Keep your readers informed, and they will buy your book. Keep your newsletter small. Don’t make it a sales pitch. Drive it to your website.
• Videos: they demonstrate and engage.
• Be likeable:
o Ask questions
o Smile
o Be honest
o Don’t seek attention
o Be consistent. Have a routine; don’t drop off.

VISIBILITY
• Advertise: Use Facebook and Google to advertise your work.
• Distribution: book stores are key to making your work visible.
• Events: Hold book readings
• Goodreads: Be generous to authors in your genre, review their work; help others. Have your name in front of them—hopefully they will review you. Have giveaways.
• Blog: Your own blog will give you the SEO benefit.
• Facebook:
o Create an Author Page in your name.
o Get people to Like your page. Get to 1,000 followers.
o Boost your post to the audience you select.
o Pay to get followers.
o Stream events live on Facebook.
o Geo-target ads for events, but first get to 1,000 followers.
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Published on June 26, 2016 16:08 Tags: authors, book-marketing, book-promotion

June 21, 2016

If Only I Hadn't Waited So Long

Dear Daddy,

The moment you had been waiting for is almost here. In two weeks, my book is being published. I will rejoice, celebrate with family and friends, and display it upright on my shelf, beaming as everyone compliments the gorgeous book cover. And I will nurse my regrets in silence. If only! If only I had done this years ago! If only I could see you hold it in your hands, feel its weight, shake your head sideways, smile at me and say, ‘Baat Huwee Na.’ You would give me that ‘my little girl has done it look’, and I would feel like a little girl all over again, making Daddy proud of me. I wish!

It’s been six years. Six years ago when I sat by your bedside holding your hand, until it lost its warmth. Six years since I said my last goodbye. Then, I would think of you all day, every day. Now, there are days when I don’t even think about you. How about that! Then something happens, and you are back in my thoughts. Sometimes it’s a song you used to sing, sometimes a beautiful dance, often it’s a book I have finished reading and I muse, Daddy would have liked it. And then there are the anniversaries—your birthday, your wedding anniversary, Father’s Day, and the day you died.

Sometimes I am sad, but most of the time I am grateful.

Grateful that you returned back from the war, alive and well. The picture is vivid in my mind: the train pulling out of the railway station, you leaning out of the door, in uniform, waving. I was so afraid that you wouldn’t return. Months later when the train pulled in, I had run down the platform, defying decorum, rushed into your arms, and had broken down in tears. What were your emotions as you held your sobbing fourteen-year old?

Grateful that you were there to take me to college, and for the advice you gave this fifteen-year-old as we rode on the train. “You are going to be on your own for the next four years. Remember that the only restrictions that apply to you are the ones you impose on yourself. We have done our part in defining the boundaries. Now it is up to you.” In that moment I realized that you were placing your trust in me, and with it the weight of responsibility. I made a promise to honor that trust.

Grateful that each time you received a marriage proposal for me, you asked me, what do you think? what should we do? Many parents would just go ahead and decide, seeking advice of the elders, knowing that their daughter would respect their decision. I didn’t know the merits of one proposal from the other, but you dignified me by affirming that my voice mattered.

I have missed you the most when writing my memoir. Not because I have relived the memories—I have—and I have laughed and cried while sitting at the keyboard. I have missed you because I wanted to share this journey with you. I wanted to call you and say, “Daddy, I just finished writing the chapter on my arranged marriage.”
“Daddy, did you think that I was becoming too religious when I stopped using makeup?”
“Daddy do you remember what you said when I . . . .?”
“Daddy, I got a book contract!”
“. . .the book cover is done. . . .I have selected the photos. . . .editing finally done. . . .I have a publication date. . . .the reviews are coming in, and guess what!. . . .Its here!”

Why couldn’t I have done this then, instead of now! I could have, but I didn’t.

All I am left with is dedicating this book to you and to Mummy. In memory of my loving parents Farrukh Akbar and Lieutenant Colonel Kazim Akbar.

Happy Fathers Day, Daddy.

Lots of love,
Sabeeha
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Published on June 21, 2016 16:33 Tags: author, dad, fathers-day

If Only I Hadn't Waited So Long

Dear Daddy,

The moment you had been waiting for is almost here. In two weeks, my book is being published. I will rejoice, celebrate with family and friends, and display it upright on my shelf, beaming as everyone compliments the gorgeous book cover. And I will nurse my regrets in silence. If only! If only I had done this years ago! If only I could see you hold it in your hands, feel its weight, shake your head sideways, smile at me and say, ‘Baat Huwee Na.’ You would give me that ‘my little girl has done it look’, and I would feel like a little girl all over again, making Daddy proud of me. I wish!

It’s been six years. Six years ago when I sat by your bedside holding your hand, until it lost its warmth. Six years since I said my last goodbye. Then, I would think of you all day, every day. Now, there are days when I don’t even think about you. How about that! Then something happens, and you are back in my thoughts. Sometimes it’s a song you used to sing, sometimes a beautiful dance, often it’s a book I have finished reading and I muse, Daddy would have liked it. And then there are the anniversaries—your birthday, your wedding anniversary, Father’s Day, and the day you died.

Sometimes I am sad, but most of the time I am grateful.
Grateful that you returned back from the war, alive and well. The picture is vivid in my mind: the train pulling out of the railway station, you leaning out of the door, in uniform, waving. I was so afraid that you wouldn’t return. Months later when the train pulled in, I had run down the platform, defying decorum, rushed into your arms, and had broken down in tears. What were your emotions as you held your sobbing fourteen-year old?
Grateful that you were there to take me to college, and for the advice you gave this fifteen-year-old as we rode on the train. “You are going to be on your own for the next four years. Remember that the only restrictions that apply to you are the ones you impose on yourself. We have done our part in defining the boundaries. Now it is up to you.” In that moment I realized that you were placing your trust in me, and with it the weight of responsibility. I made a promise to honor that trust.
Grateful that each time you received a marriage proposal for me, you asked me, what do you think? what should we do? Many parents would just go ahead and decide, seeking advice of the elders, knowing that their daughter would respect their decision. I didn’t know the merits of one proposal from the other, but you dignified me by affirming that my voice mattered.
I have missed you the most when writing my memoir. Not because I have relived the memories—I have—and I have laughed and cried while sitting at the keyboard. I have missed you because I wanted to share this journey with you. I wanted to call you and say, “Daddy, I just finished writing the chapter on my arranged marriage.”
“Daddy, did you think that I was becoming too religious when I stopped using makeup?”
“Daddy do you remember what you said when I . . . .?”
“Daddy, I got a book contract!”
“. . .the book cover is done. . . .I have selected the photos. . . .editing done. . . .I have a publication date. . . .the reviews are coming in, and guess what!. . . .Its here!”
Why couldn’t I have done this then, instead of now! I could have, but I didn’t.
All I am left with is dedicating this book to you and to Mummy. In memory of my loving parents Farrukh Akbar and Lieutenant Colonel Kazim Akbar.
Happy Fathers Day, Daddy.
Lots of love,
Sabeeha
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Published on June 21, 2016 16:30 Tags: fathers-day

If Only I Hadn't Waited So Long

Dear Daddy,

The moment you had been waiting for is almost here. In two weeks, my book is being published. I will rejoice, celebrate with family and friends, and display it upright on my shelf, beaming as everyone compliments the gorgeous book cover. And I will nurse my regrets in silence. If only! If only I had done this years ago! If only I could see you hold it in your hands, feel its weight, shake your head sideways, smile at me and say, ‘Baat Huwee Na.’ You would give me that ‘my little girl has done it look’, and I would feel like a little girl all over again, making Daddy proud of me. I wish!

It’s been six years. Six years ago when I sat by your bedside holding your hand, until it lost its warmth. Six years since I said my last goodbye. Then, I would think of you all day, every day. Now, there are days when I don’t even think about you. How about that! Then something happens, and you are back in my thoughts. Sometimes it’s a song you used to sing, sometimes a beautiful dance, often it’s a book I have finished reading and I muse, Daddy would have liked it. And then there are the anniversaries—your birthday, your wedding anniversary, Father’s Day, and the day you died.

Sometimes I am sad, but most of the time I am grateful.
Grateful that you returned back from the war, alive and well. The picture is vivid in my mind: the train pulling out of the railway station, you leaning out of the door, in uniform, waving. I was so afraid that you wouldn’t return. Months later when the train pulled in, I had run down the platform, defying decorum, rushed into your arms, and had broken down in tears. What were your emotions as you held your sobbing fourteen-year old?
Grateful that you were there to take me to college, and for the advice you gave this fifteen-year-old as we rode on the train. “You are going to be on your own for the next four years. Remember that the only restrictions that apply to you are the ones you impose on yourself. We have done our part in defining the boundaries. Now it is up to you.” In that moment I realized that you were placing your trust in me, and with it the weight of responsibility. I made a promise to honor that trust.
Grateful that each time you received a marriage proposal for me, you asked me, what do you think? what should we do? Many parents would just go ahead and decide, seeking advice of the elders, knowing that their daughter would respect their decision. I didn’t know the merits of one proposal from the other, but you dignified me by affirming that my voice mattered.
I have missed you the most when writing my memoir. Not because I have relived the memories—I have—and I have laughed and cried while sitting at the keyboard. I have missed you because I wanted to share this journey with you. I wanted to call you and say, “Daddy, I just finished writing the chapter on my arranged marriage.”
“Daddy, did you think that I was becoming too religious when I stopped using makeup?”
“Daddy do you remember what you said when I . . . .?”
“Daddy, I got a book contract!”
“. . .the book cover is done. . . .I have selected the photos. . . .editing done. . . .I have a publication date. . . .the reviews are coming in, and guess what!. . . .Its here!”
Why couldn’t I have done this then, instead of now! I could have, but I didn’t.
All I am left with is dedicating this book to you and to Mummy. In memory of my loving parents Farrukh Akbar and Lieutenant Colonel Kazim Akbar.
Happy Fathers Day, Daddy.
Lots of love,
Sabeeha
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Published on June 21, 2016 16:30 Tags: fathers-day