Have you heard of a blessing box? A blessing box is a small, often homemade box where people leave donated goods for others to pick up anonymously. Located in a prominent area, people can fill them with items that will help those in need with everything, from non-perishable food to toiletries.

I actually don’t remember what the argument was about. It was a little past midnight on Nov. 24, 2011. I threw on an abaya over my pjs, slipped into my shoes without socks, put on my hijab and my coat. I just wanted to take a drive and clear my head. It wasn’t supposed to be dramatic. I just wanted to cry in peace.

India is currently going through a humanitarian catastrophe. According to NPR, the amount of coronavirus cases is now close to 20 million. The country has logged more than 300,000 cases every day for more than 10 days.

Spring is in the air, which ignites an instinctive urge to spruce up our personal spaces. After a year of being sequestered, those creaky floor planks, loose kitchen knobs and dusty chandeliers are more than a lingering nuisance. They’ve become the persistent evil to haunt our sacred walls. Okay, maybe that’s a bit much.

We went on a family trip to Dubai in the spring of 2013. My eldest daughter was 12 and my youngest was 4. As always, it was my job to put the whole trip together—from flights, passports, and hotels, to excursions and packing. At this point, I was the vacation planning queen.

My favorite memory as a child takes place in the dining room of my mom’s home on the day of Nowruz, where I would help her set up the traditional Sofreh Haftseen, while my grandmother in the kitchen would make Shirini (Iranian desserts) typically served on Persian New Year.

In my previous write-up, I mentioned that I decided to establish a nonprofit organization of my own called The Brigade of Mercy. Well, this idea did not come about easily. I had a full-time job at a big financial institution with a great role and title, but this no longer appealed to me.

I was born in Karachi, Pakistan and moved to Paris, France when I was two years old. My father was posted at the headquarters of Interpol, the International Criminal Police Organization (ICPO), as the head of Narcotics for the Middle East and Asia, and as the first Asian representative at Interpol.

While I was married, I had all the worldly things you could ever imagine. A huge 6K sq. ft home, a brand new Mercedes GL 450, international vacations at least twice a year, 4 daughters attending private Islamic school, etc. What was there to complain about? Who would complain?