Two Years Without Dad: Living Adult Orphanism
Two years after my dad’s passing, I am learning what it means to live as an adult orphan — a solo child with no family of origin, but blessed with Mini and chosen family. Grief lives in rituals, in chai I cannot make, in music and affirmation ceremonies in nature. It reshapes but does not end, teaching me to hold both longing and love in the same breath.
Interview & Teaching – Bereavement & Diversity
Introducing the Living Resource Project I am honoured to share that I was recently interviewed by my end-of-life doula instructor, and friend, Tracy Chalmers, as part of her Living Resource Project. This initiative gathers reflections from those working in end-of-life care, creating a living library of voices, experiences, and practices that help shape the way […]
✍️ Why I Wrote My Ismaili Adventure
✍️ Why I Wrote My Ismaili Adventure Introducing the My Ismaili Series I didn’t set out to write a children’s book. I set out to answer a question — one that came in many forms:How do I explain this to my child?What do I say to my student, my partner, my friend?What does it mean […]
✍️ Shared Threads – National Indigenous Peoples Day
When my son stood in a jersey designed by Tanner Timothy — a Coast Salish artist — he wasn’t just wearing something beautiful. He was carrying a story.
The Ismaili Youth Soccer Academy partnered with Tanner to create jerseys that honoured Indigenous visual language and Ismaili identity. That blending — that shared respect — was more than symbolism. It was connection. It was presence.
Keeping the Crunch: Caregiving, Culture, and the Courage to Stay Whole
There’s a phrase I’ve been using a lot lately: don’t be the soggy lettuce. Too many women—especially those of us in the sandwich generation—lose our crispness under the weight of caregiving, expectation, and cultural obligation. We become wilted, invisible, overextended. We forget what it feels like to taste our own joy, to hold our shape. […]
Of Spice and Story: Tracing Identity Through Ismaili Memory
May is Asian Heritage Month. And yet, every time the calendar reminds me, I pause—not from pride, but from complexity. I wasn’t born in India, not even East Africa. I was born in Calgary, after my parents had already made their way here—and before my grandparents joined us. And yet, when I speak of Nairobi […]