Whispers of the Soul by Nadia Nizam

  One Missed Call… And a Lifetime of Truth The Mirror Our Children Hold Up Yesterday, someone from our extended family called after decades of silence. At the time, my daughter was using my phone, so I remained unaware. Today, when I noticed the missed call and asked her about it, she replied calmly: “Mom, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t understand why they would call after so many years. Do they need something? Or is it some very special occasion? People like this don’t call out of love, they call when they need something.” I tried to defend them. I said it might be something important, that perhaps they wanted to say something meaningful, and that she should have answered the call. But her response stopped me in my tracks. “Mom,” she said gently, “I’m sorry if this hurts you, but as long as I can remember, such people reach out only on their own terms, when they need you, when it suits them. And once their need is fulfilled, they disappear. Sometimes they even point out your f...

Piles of Property and the Massacre of the Present By Nadia Nizam Today, as I stand under the scorching sun of life, my father’s presence returns to me like a dense, cool, sheltering tree. I write this piece not only in his memory, but also as a lament for that lost simplicity which has quietly vanished from our times. Walking in his footsteps, I realize with piercing clarity that life was never a burden—we turned it into one ourselves. My father was a living book of logic and reason. He never accepted nonsense, yet paradoxically, his own life was built upon the logic of love. A modest salary, six children, and a three-room house in Islamabad—where my uncle also lived—felt like a small guesthouse. I still remember how the aroma from the kitchen and the laughter of guests could not be contained within the walls. Whether friends or relatives, my father’s dining table never felt small, because its measure was not his income, but the openness of his heart and my mother’s patience. While the...

In our homes and communities in Pakistan, a pervasive issue plagues us: the relentless pursuit of control. It's as if a psychological knot binds us, compelling everyone to manipulate and dominate one another. We all harbor a desire for others to dance to our tune, to live life as we dictate. While we may not always live our own lives to the fullest, we often seek to dictate the lives of those around us, making their existence unbearable. Parents want to control their children, expecting them to follow their every command. Husbands seek to dominate their wives, while wives, in turn, scheme to control their husbands. Sisters demand that their wishes prevail, and daughters-in-law strive to seize control of the household. It is rare to witness a son, guided by Islamic principles, gathering his sisters and mother to discuss their father's inheritance and urging them to claim their rightful shares promptly, easing the burden on their deceased father who will be questioned by God. Thi...