What’s the best advice you’d give to someone younger than you?
Spend more time with the people you love, especially your grandparents and parents. You never know how much time you have left to make memories with them. Don’t take the people you love or the good days for granted. One day, you’ll find yourself searching for that familiar voice, that laugh, and the advice that came from years of experience, and it won’t be there anymore.
And lastly life is too short to leave important words unsaid.
What’s the weirdest coincidence you’ve ever experienced?
I tend to have a strong intuition about people and situations, but I don’t always trust it. I usually choose to follow my heart because I naturally want to see the best in people and in situations. That’s just how I am. But then life happens, and certain experiences make you question that instinct and see things differently. And somehow, my intuition usually comes back later to remind me that I knew all along. But that’s how we learn. Right?
What’s a moment when you realized you were officially an adult?
I think you only truly become an adult when you lose the person who made you feel safe in a world where people are always looking for your vulnerabilities. For me, that person was my father. Whenever I fell, I knew he would be there. No matter what. Any issue, Aba was just a call away. If I needed emotional support, he was there, giving me his undivided attention. If I wanted something, I knew I could ask him. He rarely ever said no to me. I never had to question who had my back.
Losing him made me realize that life doesn’t stop when you lose your biggest support. You just have to learn to pick yourself up, protect yourself, and keep going. Even on the days when you want to give up, when all you want is them, when all you want is to feel safe again. I think that’s the hardest part of growing up: realizing that the person who always made you feel like you could handle anything is no longer there to catch you when you fall. And that has changed something in me. I am no longer the person I was. That’s what grief does to you, it changes you into a someone else. You know you’re no longer anyone’s priority anymore. It does make you strong. You grow a thicker skin to deal with this world and its people.
What’s a skill you consider basic, that most people don’t actually know how to do?
Empathy and consideration. You can’t really teach these things to someone. Some people naturally have the ability to put themselves in another person’s place, while others simply don’t. Empathy is being able to see yourself in someone else’s situation before judging them. Consideration is understanding that your words and actions can affect someone, even when you don’t intend them to. I think both come from being able to look beyond yourself and remember that everyone is carrying something you may not see. At the end of the day, it’s simply about being human enough to think, “What if that were me?”
If you could rewrite any book’s ending, which one would you choose?
“The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.”— Socrates
Honestly, I wouldn’t rewrite a book just to give it a happy ending. Happy endings can be comforting, but not every story should end with happiness, closure, or peace. Life rarely does. Stories that embrace uncertainty, loss, or bittersweet endings often feel more honest because they reflect the human experience.
My father was a student of philosophy. When I was younger, many of the things he said didn’t make sense to me. Over time, I realized they were all connected, shaped by experience rather than abstract ideas. There are hundreds of books he collected over the years, filling shelves with history, philosophy, and literature. They are more than a collection to me now. They are reminders of his curiosity, his wisdom, and the conversations we never got to finish. His reading glasses are still there, along with his collection of Persol glasses, exactly where he left them. Sometimes they make it feel as though he has only stepped away for a moment.
My happiest chapter ended the day I said goodbye to him. God, how much he filled my life with love, laughter, and everything I could have ever wished for. Since then, I’ve understood that the longer we live, the more loved ones we lose. Grief is not the opposite of love. It is the price we pay for it.
The only ending we all truly share is death. Until then, life is full of unanswered questions, imperfect resolutions, and moments that can feel empty. That is what makes it real. I think books should capture that reality instead of pretending every journey ends with everything falling into place. The stories that stay with us are often the ones that remind us life is beautiful, painful, unpredictable, and unfinished.
If you could erase one trend from history, what would it be?
If I could erase one trend from history, it would be the need to please society. You get one life, yet so many people waste it chasing approval from people who won’t be there when they’re hurting and who would barely pause if you ceased to exist tomorrow. No matter how much you sacrifice, someone will always expect more, and the only person left drained is you. Be kind. Be respectful. But never let the fear of judgment dictate your choices. Live on your own terms because the people you’re trying so hard to impress will never have to live with the consequences of your life. You will.
There’s a popular belief that when you die, your brain replays the best seven minutes of your life. Whether that’s true or not, I hope those moments are filled with memories of love, courage, laughter, and a life lived on your own terms. Because the greatest tragedy isn’t dying. It’s looking back and realizing the life you lived was written by everyone except you.
What’s something you used to believe as a kid that seems ridiculous now?
As a kid, I really believed that if you were good to people, they would always be good to you. It felt like the way the world was supposed to work. Growing up taught me that everyone has their own battles, priorities, and way of seeing things. Sometimes people appreciate your kindness, sometimes they forget it, and sometimes they even start expecting it. That doesn’t mean you should stop being kind. It just means you shouldn’t tie your kindness to expectations. Be kind because that’s who you are, not because you expect the same in return.
I also genuinely believed mermaids were real. I was a huge Little Mermaid fan, had Ariel’s poster on my wall, and held on to this tiny bit of hope that they existed somewhere deep in the ocean. I even avoided seafood because I wanted to protect marine life. Turns out I was wrong about the mermaids, and somewhere along the way I realized I actually like seafood.
Success in life comes from keeping your intentions clean, your actions consistent, and your expectations realistic. Do good because it aligns with who you are, not because you’re counting on something back, and you’ll avoid a lot of disappointment. Treat people with kindness, but know when to take a stand and be direct when something isn’t right. If you can help someone, do it, even in small ways, because you never know what someone is going through, and there is a quiet peace in that, something I learned from my beloved Aba. Keep moving forward even when things feel unfair or slow, because you are your biggest hero, and the life you build depends on how steadily you show up for yourself.
For me, the quality I value most in a friend is loyalty and sincerity. I appreciate the kind of friendship where you know someone genuinely has your back and wants the best for you, no matter what life throws your way. There is no pretences, you know each other inside out. A true friend is protective, supportive, and always looking out for you, even during the most difficult moments. Life can get busy and chaotic, but real friendship shows in knowing that when you truly need them, they will be there without hesitation. That kind of trust and genuine care is rare, which is why I keep my circle small, but the friendships I do have are an extremely important part of my life.
What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?
Having it all means being at peace with what you have. Being content. There is always someone better and something better than what you own, but you are enough for yourself, and that is the only comparison that ultimately matters. True contentment comes when you realise how exhausting it is to constantly want more while ignoring the fact that what you already have may be enough. It takes a strong mind to reach that place, and it is never easy, but with time, unnecessary noise stops holding meaning.
What is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?
My favorite holidays aren’t defined by one place or one trip. When I think about them, I think about my father, my Aba, and the way he made travel feel like so much more than just going somewhere new. He didn’t just take us on vacations, he made us a part of something he truly loved. From sitting by the window on the Pacific Coast Amtrak train watching the ocean stretch endlessly beside us, to long drives from Los Angeles to Lake Tahoe filled with conversations and quiet moments, every journey felt complete simply because we were together.
Some memories still feel almost unreal, like climbing over a thousand steps to reach Mount Saint Michel in France, exhausted but happy, or traveling across Europe from Paris to Zurich and Amsterdam, experiencing new places while holding onto that same sense of closeness. Aba always said his trips would feel empty without us, and now I understand what he meant. It was never about the destination for him, it was about sharing those moments with family, about making sure we were there with him in everything he experienced.
Now when I look back, those memories mean everything to me, but they are also bittersweet. I sometimes think about going back to the same cafés and places just to feel close to him again, even though I know it won’t ever be the same. And maybe that is okay. What stays with me is not the places, but the feeling he created, the warmth, the togetherness, and the quiet happiness of being there as a family. I have already lived my favorite holidays and most of my wish list. I was 29 when I lost my father. He is a big part of me and will always be. I dream of him often and find comfort in that.
Having good people in your life matters more than anything. People who truly want the best for you, guide you, and speak well of you even when you’re not around. I may not have many friends, but the ones I do have always stand by me. What we share is real and mutual.
Friends are the family you choose. They lift you when you’re down, and being with them just feels right. No filters, no pretending.
It’s important to find People who make you realize there’s nothing wrong with being who you are.
Describe a positive thing a family member has done for you.
When people ask me to name one good thing a family member has done for me, I can’t. It was never just one thing. It was a lifetime of love. Loving me, protecting me, choosing me, standing by me no matter what. That is what family means to me.
For me, that love came from my father.
He gave me a world where I felt safe, valued, and free. Coming from a feudal Baloch background, I know how limited life can be for girls. But he never let that become my reality. He protected me from those boundaries and gave me a life many girls only dream of.
Sometimes I think about it and realise how much he gave me without ever making it feel like a burden. He did not just protect me from the world, he prepared me for it in the most gentle way.
After losing him, I finally saw how harsh the world can be. He had been shielding me all along.
Aba, not having you here is a pain I carry every day. But everything you gave me still lives in me. I will always love you. I will always be grateful.
What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?
A good self care day
Nothing makes me happier than a full self care day. Hair treatments, a fresh blowdry, getting my nails done, a relaxing pedicure, and a massage just make me feel so refreshed, confident, and put together. I also love getting my hair colored twice a year, it feels like such a fun little transformation and makes me feel brand new. It’s honestly the best reset ever.
A good shopping spree
Shopping is my happy place! Whether I’m scrolling online or walking through the mall, I love it all. Sephora, Mango, Zara, Ulta… I could spend hours looking at makeup, clothes, and shoes. It just instantly lifts my mood.
Coffee with the right people
Coffee feels so much better when it’s with the right person. Sitting there, talking about everything and nothing, laughing, venting, and just being completely unfiltered is such a comforting feeling.
Driving
I absolutely love driving. It’s just me, my music, and my thoughts. It feels so peaceful and freeing, like my own little escape where I can just be in the moment.
Quiet time to myself
As much as I love being around people, I really value my alone time. Just relaxing, unwinding, and enjoying a little peace makes me feel recharged and balanced again. Even sleeping peacefully without an alarm just makes it feel extra special.
Empathy is what truly makes a person unique, especially in today’s world. People who are genuinely kind, mature, educated, and well traveled often share one important quality: the ability to understand and feel for others. They do not see themselves as superior, and they do not treat others with indifference. Instead, they show basic human decency in the way they speak, act, and respond to the people around them.
For me, empathy stands above everything else. It is not just about being nice. It is about being aware, respectful, and emotionally present. At a time when many people are quick to judge or dismiss others, empathy feels rare, and that is exactly why it matters so much.
The most empathetic person I have ever known was my father. He felt things deeply and treated people with genuine kindness, yet he was firm when he needed to be. He had a quiet ability to understand people just by being around them, almost as if he could read their emotions without a single word. His empathy was never a weakness. It was his strength, and it shaped the way he connected with everyone he met.
To me, that is what truly makes someone unique. Not their achievements or their status, but their ability to treat others with compassion and understanding.
If you could be someone else for a day, who would you be, and why?
If I could be someone else for a day, I would choose to be my grandmother.
When she got married and came into this family, she was completely alone. She had no support system, no lobby, and no one to defend her, especially since she came from a completely different family background. Despite this, she treated everyone with kindness and respect. She was extremely good to people, even to those who were jealous of her and secretly plotted against her or her children.
Many women in the family were insecure because she was more graceful, capable, and dignified than anyone else. Yet she never showed arrogance. She remained humble and carried herself with elegance. I often wonder how it feels to respond to envy and negativity with such calmness and grace.
People often tell me that I resemble her. That comparison is an honor, but it also makes me reflect deeply. I don’t feel like I am even half as strong as my dadi was. She faced difficult situations with patience and faith. She always told me to pray — in good days and in bad. She believed that prayer keeps a person steady through hardship and humble during ease. I think that is what helped her survive everything with dignity.
If I could be her for a day, I would want to understand her strength — how she stayed kind in the face of unkindness and calm while others secretly competed with her. A part of me sometimes wishes she had put people in their place. Still, her patience, faith, and quiet power are what make her truly remarkable. I would want to experience that inner strength and learn from it.
Life is never easy. It is a constant struggle. No one has it easy. Our times have become more complicated because of constant comparison, especially on social media. I prefer a simpler life — away from the spotlight, in peace, where people do not know my personal business.
I believe peace matters more than attention. And sometimes, distance is necessary, even from people related by blood. Because being family does not always mean being good.
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
Growing up has a way of quietly reshaping you. Not all at once, not with a single lesson, but through moments that leave a mark. Life doesn’t just age you—it matures you. It teaches you things you never asked to learn, but somehow needed to know.
One of the biggest shifts comes when you realize that adulthood isn’t about independence in the way we once imagined. It’s about responsibility—for your choices, your emotions, your healing. You start to understand that no one is coming to save you. That realization alone changes how you move through the world.
Losing a parent accelerates that understanding in a way nothing else can. Losing my father changed everything. When you lose someone who had your back unconditionally, someone who was a safety net simply by existing, the world suddenly feels sharper. Colder. You become acutely aware that it’s you, by yourself, standing against whatever life throws your way.
That kind of loss makes you vulnerable. It cracks you open. But it also gives you a strength you didn’t know you had. You learn how to deal with people on their level. You stop shrinking yourself. You stop explaining your boundaries. You learn when to be soft and when to stand firm—because survival has taught you discernment.
Time has also unmasked people. I’ve seen masks slip. I’ve seen intentions reveal themselves when things got uncomfortable or inconvenient. And because of that, my circle has become smaller—but infinitely more meaningful. I don’t need many people. I need real ones.
The people I keep close are the ones I trust. The ones who show up without needing to be asked. The ones who have my back, not just when it’s easy, but when it actually matters. These relationships are built on honesty, not performance.
I can’t be half-hearted friends anymore. I can’t pretend, dilute myself, or play a role just to keep the peace. I want to be around people who let me be fully, unapologetically myself—flaws, strength, softness, and all. Anything less feels like a betrayal of the life experiences that shaped me.
Significant life events don’t just change your perspective—they refine it. They strip away what’s unnecessary and leave you with what’s real. And while that process can be painful, it’s also freeing. Because in the end, you stop living for appearances and start living with intention.
And that, more than anything, is what growing up truly means.
What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?
There is a lot of emphasis on living a very long life, but for me, longevity alone has never felt like the goal. What truly matters is the quality of life we live—being healthy, self-reliant, and mentally present.
As we age, health naturally begins to decline. After 50, many people face issues like heart disease, cholesterol problems, diabetes, weaker bones, and reduced physical strength. The idea of living very long while being completely dependent on others is frightening. Watching extremely old people struggle without independence is deeply heartbreaking.
That’s why I believe in prioritizing living well over simply living longer. Being able to take care of yourself, make your own decisions, and live with dignity matters far more than adding extra years to life.
I also believe it’s important to never compromise on what you want and don’t want in your life. You choose your values, your priorities, the people you allow close to you, and the life you build. Those choices shape the quality of your life more than anything else.
Having the right life partner—someone you can rely on and take responsibility for in return—becomes essential as life progresses. And just as important is ensuring your children’s lives are well settled. No one will ever love, protect, or prioritize them the way a truly loving parent does.
In the end, a meaningful life isn’t measured by how long we live, but by how consciously we choose to live—healthy, independent, and at peace with our choices.
Personally, I don’t really have influences in the conventional sense. There are, however, people I look up to—most notably, my father. He was an ideal person in my eyes. I have never seen anyone as remarkable as him.He had a natural ability to put people in their exact place, was deeply empathetic, and maintained a sense of justice even in the face of hypocritical, thick-skinned people. If I were a son, he would have been a defining influence in my life.
But I am a daughter, and the world does not hand me the same paths. Being a daughter, I do not feel the same kind of influence. Still, there are people whose lives and choices I find puzzling or even unworthy. Their existence serves as a contrast, an example of what I would never want to copy. There are lives I would never wish to live, people I would never wish to become. Perhaps this is influence in reverse, a mirror of what I refuse.
I believe each person moves through the world with their own set of opportunities and goals, shaping their decisions and carving their own paths. Influence is never simple. It is not a shadow to follow, but a spark to understand—a reflection of what we honor and what we choose to reject. In this way, both admiration and contrast guide us, helping us become the person we decide to be rather than a copy of someone else.
Recently, I’ve learned the skill of patience—especially with people. I’m learning not to overreact to situations, not to let overthinking take a toll on how I perceive things, and to accept people and situations as they are. Giving time and space instead of reacting emotionally has helped me respond more calmly and thoughtfully.
One important lesson I’ve learned is that blood relation doesn’t automatically mean family. True family is defined by good intentions, respect, and genuine care. Someone who is envious of you or your immediate family can never truly be a well-wisher, regardless of how closely they’re related. In such cases, the healthiest choice is to emotionally distance yourself—to let go and accept that not everyone deserves access to your life. Fake people and snakes no longer exist in my bubble, and their lives hold no significance to me. Often, such people just want to keep tabs on you, be nosy, and secretly compete with you. It’s up to you to decide what to tolerate and what to block out. Remember, literally no one has it perfect in life—you need to focus on doing you.
It’s a question that sounds simple, but the answers usually sit quietly in the corners of our lives, waiting for us to notice.
For me, the first answer is this: taking everything to heart. One harsh tone, one careless comment, one moment of rudeness—and suddenly there’s a storm inside me. My chest tightens, my thoughts spiral, and I replay the moment again and again like I’m responsible for everyone else’s cruelty.
But I’m learning something new, something difficult: I don’t have to absorb everything. Someone recently told me that if I keep internalising every hurtful thing, I’ll end up trapped in a loop of my own pain. And they were right. Letting people and situations be what they are is not weakness—it’s wisdom. This world tests us in quiet ways, and sometimes the bravest thing we can do is step back, breathe, and move on.
Maybe it hits harder because the one person who truly cared for my heart—the one who saw me, understood me, prioritised me—is no longer here. And now my sensitivity feels louder, like there’s no buffer between me and the world.
The second thing I could do less of?
Shopping my feelings away. One bad day and suddenly my cart looks like I’m stocking an entire vanity—clothes, makeup, skincare, all of it. Retail therapy feels good in the moment—comforting, distracting, almost like a friend. But eventually the packages arrive and half the things end up barely used, if at all. A temporary fix becomes permanent clutter.
Still, what can I say? I’m just a girl trying to soothe a sensitive soul the only way she knows how.
So yes, maybe I’m thin-skinned. Maybe I feel too much.
But recognising what I could do less of is the first step toward becoming someone stronger—not harder, just more at peace.
Do you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it?
Los Angeles during December has a gentle magic to it. The city feels slower, softer, and calmer compared to the constant rush of New York City. The weather is cool but never harsh, and there’s this bright winter light that makes even an ordinary day feel special. Everywhere you go, there’s a quiet sense of warmth in the air, like the city itself is relaxing.
Some of my most peaceful moments were spent by the water. Laguna Beach and Malibu Beach quickly became two of my all-time favorites. No matter the time of day, they carried a calm that settled straight into your chest. Morning waves, golden afternoons, evenings when the sky turned soft, or late nights when the ocean was the only sound around you—each moment felt healing in its own quiet way.
Glendale became the heart of my time in LA. During the holiday season, the whole city feels inviting. The lights, the music drifting through the streets, the cozy crowd at the Americana at Brand, and the decorated corners all around the city created a soft holiday atmosphere that made me feel at home. Glendale is also famous for its vibrant Persian community, and it shows everywhere you look. From the markets to the restaurants, it’s full of life, and the Persian cuisine there is some of the best I’ve ever had. Even simple routines felt comforting, like quick grocery trips to Target/Ralphs or wandering around the mall with Christmas songs playing in the background.
There were also the little details that made the experience unforgettable. The drives along Angeles Crest with mountains opening up around the road. Grabbing In-N-Out almost every day without ever getting tired of it. Stopping for Salt & Straw ice cream. And remembering the Godiva outlet that no longer exists, especially their rich dark chocolate ice cream that became a small tradition for me whenever I passed by.
Even the quiet evenings in Pasadena added to the feeling. Walking along Colorado Boulevard felt safe, lively, and full of gentle energy. The mix of nature, holiday lights, food, small routines, and late-night drives created a season that felt warm and deeply personal. Los Angeles in December became more than just a place to visit. It became a memory that settled in my heart, full of moments that still feel alive when I think about them.
All of this traveling and seeing these places was thanks to my amazing father. He literally showed us the world. He was a very involved, loving, and caring father who made every trip special. Glendale has a personal connection for our family too, because it is where my father went for his further studies in the 1980s. Today, it remains one of the safest neighborhoods in LA, and experiencing it with the memories of my father made it feel even more special. I will forever carry his memory—his favorite restaurant, his favorite cuisine, his recommendations. I just can’t believe he is no longer here with me.
What is one thing you would change about yourself?
People often say sensitivity is a weakness, but living with a soft heart in a sharp world is anything but easy. Being sensitive means you feel deeply — joy, pain, love, loss — all of it hits a little harder and stays a little longer. It’s a beautiful trait, yet it can feel like a burden when life stops protecting you the way it once did.
I used to think my sensitivity came from growing up surrounded by love and care. Maybe that safety made me soft. Maybe it allowed me to live in a bubble where emotions were understood instead of judged. But when life shifted — when I lost the person who always caught my emotional falls — I realized the world doesn’t cushion you the same way. It can be cruel, indifferent, and unforgiving.
Being sensitive suddenly feels dangerous, like walking through life without armor.
But here’s what I’m slowly learning: sensitivity isn’t something to erase. It just needs boundaries. It needs maturity. It needs strength behind it. Feeling deeply doesn’t make you weak — it means you’re alive, human, and capable of connection in a way many people aren’t.
I don’t want to stop being sensitive.
I just want to learn how to carry it better — without letting the world break my softness.
What technology would you be better off without, why?
If there is any technology I could walk away from without hesitation, it would be smartphones, especially when combined with social media. That mix has quietly damaged our peace, privacy, and confidence in ways we often overlook.
Smartphones make everyone far too reachable. It does not matter what you are doing or how you are feeling. Someone can message, call, or DM you at any moment, and there is an unspoken expectation that you should reply quickly. It is mentally draining. It feels like carrying a door around that people can knock on whenever they want, even when you need silence.
Social media adds another layer of chaos. The impact on children is especially worrying. Kids grow up comparing themselves to filtered faces and perfectly staged lives that are presented as normal. They measure themselves against illusions long before they even understand their own identity. It affects their self esteem before they even know what self esteem really is.
Women face another type of pressure. Influencers present flawless skin, perfect bodies, and perfect lifestyles that are often created with filters, editing, or even complete fabrication. If you saw many of them without filters you would not recognize them. Yet these altered images become the standards that real women feel pressured to match. It turns natural beauty into something people feel embarrassed about instead of proud of.
Men also face constant comparison. They look at influencers showing off expensive watches, cars, and luxury lifestyles that are often sponsored, borrowed, or temporarily given for advertising. Some follow “fitness freaks” online who use steroids or have had multiple surgeries to achieve their physiques. These influencers present it as everyday life while regular men feel like they are falling behind. It creates stress and insecurity based on something that was never real to begin with.
My own experience pushed me to step back even more. My blog account is mostly private and only rarely public because of the nosy lurkers who somehow find it. People from distant family circles, people I barely know, and people I do not even like show up. Some try to follow, some lurk quietly, and some are just plain strange. I have blocked more than 70 of them already. Seventy. My blog is my safe space, and I cannot tolerate people I do not want there. I literally block unwanted accounts without thinking twice. Some of these people I do not even know exist, yet they somehow think they have a right to be there.
It is strange how technology that was supposed to help us connect has ended up making us feel watched, judged, and overwhelmed. Smartphones and social media promised convenience and community, but instead they created an environment full of pressure, comparison, and unwanted eyes.
Maybe the real problem is not the technology itself. It is how deeply it has seeped into our lives, to the point where we need to hide, block, and guard ourselves just to feel normal. Just because you somehow have access to a phone, the internet, and social media does not mean you get to poke your nose into other people’s business.
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
I wasn’t in my village when my father left this world. I wasn’t there to hold his hand, see his last smile, or say the words I had saved for someday. Seven months and five days later, the absence still lives inside me—sharp, raw, and unbearable.
Even sleeping makes me feel guilty. How can I rest when he is gone? How can I eat, laugh, or speak as if life hasn’t changed? How dare I have normal days when he is not here? The guilt crushes me. I am a human being searching for escape, yet every night my mind drifts back to the loss that reshaped everything.
Of both my parents, I was closest to him. He was my friend, my safe space, the one I could share everything with. He gave me a love I have never known anywhere else, a trust that made me feel untouchable, invincible under his shade. He was my oak tree. Losing him left the world too bright, too loud, too cruel.
But he did not leave me weak. He gave me strength. He gave me the courage to face this world without him. I will deal with people as they are. I am not a poor, defenseless girl. No. I am his daughter. I carry his strength in my veins, even now.
And the hardest truth I’ve had to swallow:
No one will ever love me the way he did. No one will prioritize me the way he did. I no longer hold expectations from anyone.
I am learning to carry the space he left behind—not filling it, not replacing it—just living with it. Accepting grief in quiet mornings, in tearful nights, and in every memory that pierces me. I wasn’t there when he left, but I carry him with me in every step, every breath, every heartbeat.
If I ever get to visit the places I visited with you, Aba, I will definitely go to your favorite coffee shops and restaurants. I will sit there, feeling your presence in every small detail, and remember the love, laughter, and shade you gave me.
Slowly, painfully, I am learning that it’s okay to hurt—and it’s okay to keep living.
We all have little things that can instantly bother us, things that might seem small but really affect how we feel around others. For me, it’s the everyday habits and gestures that reflect consideration, hygiene, and respect. From how someone treats a shared space to the way they carry themselves, these details matter more than most people realize.
1)People walking on carpets or rugs with outside shoes – It really bothers me when someone steps onto a carpet or rug with the same shoes they’ve worn all over the city. Shoes pick up dirt, germs, dust, and all kinds of things from sidewalks, streets, and public places. Bringing all of that into a home — especially onto a surface people sit on, walk barefoot on, or relax on — feels disrespectful and unhygienic. At home, you should have a separate pair of slippers or slides that are only meant for indoor use. They stay clean, protect the floors, and help keep the entire living space hygienic. It’s such a simple habit, but it makes a huge difference in maintaining a clean and comfortable home environment.
2)Arrogance and lack of basic empathy or manners – I can’t stand when someone carries themselves as if they’re above everyone else, acting like they’re more important or entitled. That kind of attitude completely ignores the fact that nobody is obligated to “prove” themselves or compete to be a somebody. What truly matters is empathy — treating people with basic respect and humanity. Simple gestures like holding the door for someone, helping a person pick up something they dropped, or actually listening without cutting them off mid-conversation say so much more about a person’s character. When someone lacks these small but meaningful courtesies and chooses arrogance instead, it’s really off-putting and makes interactions feel cold and dismissive.
3)Poorly trimmed or uneven nails – One of the first things I notice about a person is their hands, so when someone has uneven, jagged, or poorly trimmed nails, it immediately stands out to me. It’s not about perfection, but when nails look neglected or uneven, it genuinely makes me anxious. Hands are such a visible part of how we present ourselves, and keeping nails clean and neatly trimmed shows care, hygiene, and attention to detail. When someone doesn’t take a moment to maintain them, it’s hard for me to ignore.
In the end, it’s the small gestures—thoughtfulness, respect, and care—that make the biggest difference and leave a lasting impression.
What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can?
If there’s one part of my daily routine I wish I could skip, it’s the time I start overthinking. It usually begins in the quiet moments—when the world slows down but my thoughts speed up. I replay things in my head, analyze every detail, and end up feeling more drained than before.
Overthinking doesn’t solve problems—it creates them. It feeds anxiety, turning small worries into heavy thoughts that feel impossible to escape. The mind tries to find answers, but instead, it traps itself in endless questions. It’s exhausting, and most of the time, nothing changes except how anxious I feel.
Lately, I’ve realized that sometimes, ignorance truly is bliss. Not every thought needs attention, and not every situation needs to be figured out. Letting go, even just a little, brings a kind of peace that overthinking never can.
And the truth is—no one overthinks on purpose. It’s something that happens naturally. Our minds are wired differently, and some people simply feel and think more deeply. Overthinkers often care too much, not too little. What they truly need is understanding, not judgment. With the right people who get them, even an overactive mind can find calm.
You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for?
If I had three wishes, I wouldn’t ask for fame, fortune, or power. My heart would choose differently.
My first wish would be to see my father again — to hold him, to talk to him, to feel the comfort of his presence one more time. There are no words for that kind of longing, the kind that never fades no matter how many years pass.
My second wish would be for a Disney happy ending — the kind I grew up believing in. Those stories painted the world in soft colors, where good always triumphed and love healed everything. But life isn’t scripted by Disney. It’s raw, unpredictable, and sometimes painfully real. Still, a part of me can’t stop believing in a little bit of magic.
And my third wish… would be to see through people — not just their intentions, but their truths. To see their pain behind their smiles, their fears behind their anger, their love behind their silence. To understand people not for what they show, but for what they hide. Maybe then, the world would make more sense. Maybe then, we’d all be a little kinder.
Three wishes — love, hope, and understanding. Maybe that’s all any of us are really searching for.
What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?
What stands out in my cultural heritage is the craftsmanship of Balochi clothing and jewellery. The loose-fitted kurtas, decorated with silk thread embroidery and mirror work, display a level of artistry that is both unique and timeless. Each tribe has its own distinctive embroidery and jewellery style, which is what makes Baloch culture so diverse and recognizable.
Personally, I am most drawn to the jewellery pieces from the Mazari and Bugti families. Their designs have a richness and individuality that set them apart, and I feel fortunate to have inherited pieces from both through my family. From the elaborate gold headpieces to finely crafted gold clips, from heavy statement necklaces to delicate chains in different designs, and from handmade cuffs to intricate bracelets, these ornaments showcase the versatility and creativity of Baloch craftsmanship.
The inherited antique jewellery carries an irreplaceable value. The kundan work, the ruby and emerald detailing set into pure gold, and the remarkable neatness of every design reflect a level of mastery that today’s jewellers cannot replicate. Each piece was made to last for generations, and the longevity of that workmanship is something modern techniques often fail to achieve. People may try to reproduce these styles, but the originals remain unmatched in both precision and beauty.
Balochi jewellery as a whole has its own distinction. Bold and heavy, it reflects a culture that values strength and status. Clothes and jewellery together create a striking identity, instantly rooted in tradition yet varied across regions and tribes.
Yet, while these traditions hold value, it is clear that culturally and mentally there is still much that needs to change. In the end, heritage should not only be about preserving beauty but also about progressing in ways that make the culture stronger and more inclusive for the future.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
Some of the most profound lessons I’ve carried in life weren’t from books or lectures—they were from conversations with my father. His words were simple, but they’ve stayed with me, guiding me through moments of confusion, growth, and change.
Do good and forget about it.
Goodness is not a transaction—it’s a reflection of who you are. When you do something kind, don’t wait for recognition or repayment. Life has its own way of returning what you give, sometimes in ways you’d never expect. The same applies to ill intentions: those who plot harm often find themselves ensnared by their own traps. Life is circular; what goes around always comes around.
Arrogance is for the foolish.
Every day is an opportunity to learn. Mistakes, missteps, and even heartbreaks are teachers if you’re willing to listen. To walk through life thinking you know it all is to close yourself off from growth. True strength lies in humility and the ability to adapt with each new lesson.
Be wise with your resources.
Money comes and goes, but discipline in spending shapes your freedom. Confidence, however, is a different kind of wealth. When you walk into a room, know that no one else can be you. That quiet certainty is far more valuable than arrogance—it’s self-respect without the need for comparison.
Guard your circle.
Loneliness is better than being surrounded by serpents. Not everyone who smiles at you wishes you well. A friend to all is often a friend to none. The ones who truly matter are selective with their trust and protective of their space. Sometimes, solitude is not isolation—it’s preservation.
In all these lessons lies a single thread: life is both a teacher and a mirror. What you give, you receive. What you learn, you become. And what you protect, protects you in return.
“To know yourself is a lifetime’s work; to pretend you know others is arrogance.”
Which topics would you like to be more informed about?
Some days, your mind feels like it’s running a marathon you never signed up for. Thoughts racing, jumping from one worry to the next, often landing on the worst possible “what if.” It’s exhausting—and if you’re living with it, you know that it can dim even the brightest days.
But here’s something to remember: you are not broken. A racing mind doesn’t mean you’re weak; it means you’re human. Our brains are wired to prepare us for danger, but sometimes they overdo their job. They imagine storms even when the sky is clear.
So, how do we calm that storm? Sometimes, it helps to sit with the thought instead of fighting it. Ask yourself: Is this real, right now? Or is it a story my mind is telling me? Often, just that question can loosen the grip.
Philosophers—people like Marcus Aurelius or Seneca—faced the same problem centuries ago. Life was hard then too, and they reminded themselves: “I can’t control what happens, but I can control how I meet it.” That’s not cold logic—it’s a gentle reminder that we don’t have to let every thought carry us away.
And on darker days, it’s worth holding on to the small sparks. A walk outside, the sound of laughter, a favorite line in a book—tiny reminders that the world isn’t only harsh. Calling or catching up with someone close to you, just to feel their presence, can steady the heart more than you realize. Putting on your favorite music—songs that have carried you through before—can feel like light breaking through a heavy sky. Even playing with babies, with their giggles and wonder at the simplest things, can remind you that life is still soft, still tender. There’s brightness hidden in these ordinary moments, if we let ourselves notice.
If your mind tells you every outcome will be the worst, pause and ask: But what if things turn out better than I expect? You don’t have to force optimism—you just have to give it a chance to speak.
You are learning, slowly, how to live with your thoughts instead of being ruled by them. And that’s something to be proud of. 🌱
Seneca (Stoic philosopher): “We suffer more often in imagination than in reality.”
Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
The furthest I’ve ever traveled from home wasn’t measured in miles or airports. It wasn’t about crossing oceans or standing in a foreign land where the language felt unfamiliar. The furthest I’ve ever traveled was the moment I lost someone I loved deeply—my Aba.
For me, home was never just a building of bricks and walls. Home lived in laughter across the dinner table, in encouragement when I doubted myself, in the simple comfort of knowing someone always had my back. I spent 11,273 days with the home I can no longer go back to.
When that presence vanished, I felt myself in a strange, uncharted land. I was surrounded by the same streets, the same rooms, the same material things—but the anchor was gone. It was as if the coordinates of home had been erased.
I had to learn that home isn’t a permanent location. It’s fragile, woven from bonds and moments, and when a piece of that fabric tears, you find yourself traveling further away from “home” than you ever thought possible.
And yet, even in that distance, I began to discover something unexpected. Though I can’t return to the home that once was, I carry parts of it with me. In memories, in lessons passed down, in the love that lingers, home travels with me—even into the farthest places of loss.
-A grief struck daughter.
Every lyric sinks deep — painting our grief in shades of grey. Tom Odell’s new single captures the ache of losing someone irreplaceable.
This is my digital footprint for you, Aba — a space where love never fades and memories never end.
