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Lessons Learnt the Hard Way

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A First: Audio Blog (Ramblings)

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By Rahima Jabeen - April 22, 2021

The day to day...click here to hear me update you on stuff.

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What the Young Tree Whispered in my Ear

By Rahima Jabeen - December 29, 2015

I rested my head against the car window, adjusting my angle to avoid the sharp noon sun rays. They filtered through the thinning foliage of the young tree that caressed the car door. I looked up lazily. She was not a big thing, young - but not too young. She had not seen many winters I suppose, but enough at least, to give me respite against the glare of the sun, the kind of glare that looks specially sharper in the midst of winter. Until then, I had not noticed the tiny red flowers that were scattered scantily all over her branches. They danced in the soft breeze, carelessly, along with their green counterparts. The beauty of the scene mesmerized me, until nothing in my peripheral vision existed any longer. Suddenly, it was just her and me.

An Epiphany on a High School Bench with a 14 Year Old

By Rahima Jabeen - December 31, 2016

She sat still for a bit, slightly anxious, on a bench near the gate. Every now and then she would look towards the watchman for a sign that her car had arrived to pick her up. I sat by her, observing her innocence, her determined chin and wisps of hair that waved in the soft gushes of wind, for it was an unusually pleasant afternoon. She looked at me apologetically, her face flushed slightly as she uttered how sorry she was that I had to wait because of her. 'How ridiculous', I thought, shaking my head slightly. Out aloud I said, 'I wouldn't want my daughter to be left alone under such circumstances, how can I leave you?' She smiled, and turned to look at the gate, failing to notice the tears well up in my eyes, for she even looked like my eldest. I toyed with my cell phone, after all, no young teen would engage in friendly banter with a high school teacher, it was just not done. As I was lost in a chain of thoughts that was stirred up by the thought of m

Confessions; Where I'm Coming From

By Rahima Jabeen - June 27, 2015

It's not easy for me to open up about anything. I've been a very private person all my life. Suffice it to say, it took a lot of contemplating before I actually sat down to write this post. I mean no harm to anybody. My views are my own, and as a human being I could be wrong. I am a firm believer of faith and destiny. All good and bad is from Allah. We can only strive to make choices that we feel are founded in our values and morals. If you lose these essential qualities which is the very fabric of your existence, you will ultimately lose yourself. And so I sit here today, almost seven months since I last saw my children. Whatever happened is in the past, and I have since accepted my fate. With that acceptance came a certain amount of peace. The memories of their faces, smiles, tears and all, will forever be sketched in my heart. The one thing that will haunt me though, is knowing that I was an awesome mother to them and that I can not (regardless of sincere efforts on m

The Thirsty Sparrow and what it Taught Me

By Rahima Jabeen - November 22, 2015

There is an image in my head. It's been quite a few days, but it has not faded. It was a fleeting thing. The type of thing nobody would give a second thought to. I also remember thinking it's funny how even mundane things can be a source of inspiration, but more on that later. There was a little sparrow, dipping its beak with rapid precision, smack right in the middle of the traffic junction, in a little puddle of murky water. It was oblivious to the moving seas of cars swishing past. The puddle was in the 'neutral zone' of the junction- right in the center where no cars could overlap. In all fairness, it is Karachi and the traffic can get out of hand at any given second, yet this bird knew only its thirst and probably noticed that this particular crevice was somehow, immune to any danger. As I looked on for a minute at its incessant task, I realized that this was such a fitting analogy of the life I currently live.

A Letter to my 20 Year Old Self, Dated Today

By Rahima Jabeen - January 09, 2016

What if time travel actually did exist? What if you could actually send your immature, silly, younger self a letter, knowing what you know now- today? What nuggets of advice would you drop into your lap? What would you do differently? Would you even heed your own wisdom? Because one of the follies of youth involve not taking anything 'wise' very seriously at all. But if it were so... I know I have no regrets, none at all. I know despite this imagined time travelling capability, my fate was written and I also know until there is breath in me, my story will continue to unfold as it has been pre-written. All I have to do is live it with faith and give it my very best that it should not be a colossal waste of the earth's resources. God knows there are plenty of soul sucking, poor excuse of human beings out there, and I do not intend to be one of them. Again, if I could though, a letter to my younger self would go something like this...

And Herein Lies This Woman Who...

By Rahima Jabeen - November 28, 2015

I've often asked myself, when I am dead, who will mourn me? Oh I'm not talking about my parents, or siblings- people connected by blood who are genetically wired to feel grief on such occasion. I'm talking about other people. Who'll come to my funeral thinking, hey you know this lady, she was really something! When she was alive, she taught me something, she gave me hope, I looked up to her, she was good person. The truth is, I don't know. I know my beautiful children will probably not be there. No one will be there saying, my mother is dead. And so as I reflect deeply on such matters, that my life can't just end in a poof, like the rabbit in a magician's hat, I ponder over what I will leave behind in my wake by way of legacy. Nothing worldly matters once you've enter the great unknown, I know this, I mean what will I care when I'm headed to meet my Maker; except the deeds I take with me. Not my money, not my kids, nothing except my bare sou

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