I was known as “Daddy’s Little Princess” — the girl who expected things to be ready, served and perfect. I wore the title proudly. I got upset if I didn’t get what I wanted, especially from my mother. I was particular about my clothes, preferring only branded shops. My father often cautioned my mom, “Don’t let her get used to this.”
But life has its rhythm. Change didn’t come overnight, nor was it forced upon me. It came slowly, naturally, through lived experiences.
My father played a key role in that transformation. He encouraged me to learn how to make Arabic coffee and bake his favourite blueberry muffins, even though we had help at home. During Ramadhan or on ordinary days, he ensured I helped in the kitchen. At first, I resisted, saying, “You’re making me learn so I’ll have to do it forever.” But even when my dishes looked unappetising, he would eat them with a smile and praise me, just to keep me going.
He constantly used everyday moments to instill life lessons. “Help your mother carry bags,” he’d say. Or, “One day, you’ll study abroad. You’ll learn what responsibility and money mean. We earn money — it doesn’t grow on trees.” During travels, he’d say, “Take this in. One day, you’ll be in places like this through your achievements.”
He inspired me to read, listen to stories and try new things — tennis, swimming, squash, even horse riding. While I didn’t enjoy all of it at first, over time, I found joy in the things I once resisted.
Most importantly, he passed on his love for writing. He was working on a leadership book that he never finished. One of my personal goals is to publish it in his memory, not just as his daughter, but as the woman he believed I could become.
In Grade 12, my father passed away. He had often reminded me, “Work hard so you can study abroad.” His dream was for me to pursue commercial law. I didn’t follow that exact path — I became a banker — but his guidance built the foundation for everything I am.
I began college in Oman, but mid-semester, I received a scholarship to study in Vienna. My life — the one my father prepared me for — had begun. I wasn’t homesick, not even once. The girl everyone thought was too pampered embraced independence fully. I managed my finances, made international friends and learned to handle responsibilities not from lectures, but from life itself.
Abroad, I learned that self-worth isn’t about what you wear or how much money you have. It’s about how you treat others, how you carry yourself and the integrity you show in both big and small moments.
One memory stands out. My father once bought me a denim skirt during a grocery run, claiming it was from a store I liked. I wore it proudly. Later, he confessed where it was really from. I laughed, but the lesson hit home — value isn’t about price; it’s about perspective.
A quote I once heard stuck with me: “Invest in gold, not luxury bags. The goal is not to look rich — it’s to be rich.” That truth continues to guide me.
Life’s lessons don’t come all at once. They arrive in pieces through quiet moments, failures and growth. True change isn’t sudden. It’s a gentle, daily unfolding. And even as we evolve, the child within us still lingers. For me, that child loves cartoons, Disney and theme parks — and I embrace her, because she brings me joy.
The hardest lesson I learned was this: I thought I could fix everything and everyone. That love meant sacrificing myself. But I lost sight of who I was. Slowly, through each bump in the road, I began to rebuild — not because someone told me to, but because life taught me how.
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