"I just found out we've been evicted. Right after you leave, I'm going to start packing up. I've got to find my family a new place to live by tonight. The landlady is a good woman. She's just in a tough situation. Her disabled son lost his home. I'll handle it. I've been through worse."

(Hunza Valley, Pakistan)

There is a very small village in the heart of Thatta where old Amma Zainab lives, in her little wooden house and mud floored veranda, no one leaves without a treat. When someone goes to visit Amma, the first thing they receive is her hug. I remember Amma's hug, her frail arms around me with a full and confident embrace, that warmth of her heart transmitting from her whole being and that moment when she held me for at least a few seconds... That is where I learnt about LOVE.

A lot of times in our experiences as entrepreneurs, activists, executives and any other leadership positions we surround ourselves with big words like struggle, hardwork, less sleep, effort, failure and success but among all those we miss on this one single word which is the core ingredient of service to any community and any nation, and that is love.

The impact of our actions in the communities we work with or people we serve highly depends on the relationships we develop with these people based on empathy, understanding and compassion for them. I really wish love should have been a part of the MDGs, and should be ensured in each of our actions.

Today on international women's day, I want to give the message we at Sughar continuously follow:

"Before providing any service, any support, any empowerment, ANY KIND of empowerment, learn to love and give love in huge chunks. And based on that love relationship, make people not your beneficiaries but your partners in action, specially women because when they are loved, they know they are worth loving and when women realize their worth, there is nothing that can keep them from changing the shape of the society they live in"!

As Mother Teresa says, “The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.”

Today my tears couldn't stop from the overwhelming joy, blessing, and the pride my heart felt by being surrounded by the world's most beautiful people. My people. My women.

After spending 5 months at MIT when I returned today to the villages Sughar - Women With Wings is operating through my wonderful team, I was surprised by their celebration! Gifts in the form of scarves, women had made songs for me and my team! women danced, we all danced!

We cerebrated a journey we have been on together, hand in hand, never forgetting to dance for those tiny details that make us all powerful Pakistani village women!

And to experience the humbling discovery of being missed by hundreds of people when I was gone is something I am still unable to put into words. Love to the world~

Far away at the end of the street in Boston
I see the shepherd with his white sheep
As their bells jingle and jingle,
my memories take me somewhere else
I forget where I was and where I am going
I only smile as I see my mom
waving at me from the windows of the giant apartments of this city
and then I hear my little siblings shout my name
I look back as I step on the bus to Harvard Square...
I see mountains behind the buildings
and far away on those mountains
my loved ones live
I see people smile around me as if they understand
But how can they? me and my world are a separate place
and my memories are like aurora
surrounding me
reminding me
of the bright sunlight when I sat with my cousins
inside that huge mud haveli,
and we all sang songs of our tribe
I remember the steaming chai cups as my aunt brings them up
Cahva was never an addiction but 13 cups didn't matter
I wonder if this bus is going to stop at the station in my village
and when I get off, the dirt of Balochistan fluttering away in the dry air and beautiful scent
would welcome me saying I was missed
or maybe the bus is taking me to that small street around my house
where I would see my siblings playing on their bikes
I would wave and wave
and like an invisible person I won’t be seen
I can feel my heart beat with anticipation
The bus has stopped,
Crowds of people getting down,
I get down
Scent of coffee from starbucks welcomes me first thing
I look around me to find a trace of home
Its all foreign and I am invisible
I am lost in time
Somewhere
Inbetween
and when the chilling air of Cambridge touches my face
I know that I cant take the longing anymore
Perhaps this is the limit where I breakdown
My heart shouts..... but my lips are silent
I walk ahead as if I am a normal person but my soul..... desperate for home, runs around in circles
Shouting and crying
and as I walk towards my next bus to MIT
I miss my home... VERY MUCH

As people surrounded me today after I got off the stage, a young face with her big eyes kept glancing from far away...

When someone came in between her view she kneeled down to kept her stare. Throughout my discussions, hugs, pictures with all the women I kept glancing at her face and smiled, for a while it kept on until she disappeared.

Someone asked for my card,

I looked down at my bag and looked up to find those big eyes staring at me right in front of me and with her beautiful shy face bent down she said,:

"I want to do so much for this world.. I don't know how"

and with that tears came pouring down her face... my highlight of the day is that passion in her small beautiful heart, that extreme wish of making this world more better, more peaceful and more kind for other people, a passion strong enough to have her eyes fill with tears and her heart pound like it would run off her chest, slowly calming down as I hugged her and found my soul hugging hers -

This is what the world needs. The burning desire to do more, help more and be more even if your body is of a young little girl,

souls can grow..... and take flight~

As my day of departure from Pakistan comes closer, my senses seem to work extra special. My nose now smells that hint of familiarity in the damp foggy air here, my ears fall in love with each roar of the fast car in the streets and that brrrr!ttt! of silencer-less motor bikes, my eyes seem to find every person smiling and oh those street lights and traffic lights....or when I touch a wall or a door it grabs my hand and says - Don't Go...

Suddenly little things are becoming special, suddenly I am in love with waking up to the busy and noisy traffic here, suddenly I am thrilled to see my siblings shout about in the house and suddenly I want to spend my every waking hour hugging and loving each person close to my heart.. This sudden desire to be present came to me because I realized I would be absent. Or was I absent and just became present? My desire to live the moment came with the fear of losing this moment, and this discovery is just so fascinating for me...

But, do we always have to "leave" to discover how important the little details of our life are? Can we not have that feeling of first time or last time I am seeing/feeling/doing this thing and have the best of every passing moment?

I once read that life isn't really lived if it didn't squeeze the juices off your body. Just like that I believe life isn't really lived if YOU didn't squeeze every last bit of that juice from each of its micro second and savoured it with some delicious cookies of gratitude.

Growing up I have cried a lot, (yes, I still do) mostly holding my pillow when everyone would sleep, behind the curtain so mom wont see and question, under the blanket where my heart would be breaking and yes in my fathers arms sobbing like a little girl with nothing but a broken heart. My pillow, curtain or blanket never responded but my father kept telling me one thing while caressing my back - "Don't cry my daughter, don't cry. Strategize". 8 years in this, I have learn't to strategize, to fail, to be vulnerable, to cry again and find a shoulder or a pillow to shed tears on and then go on again even stronger. Strategizing for the freedom of women in Pakistan, for myself and for every other little girl who was seen weak, meek and was told that no, she had no business planning, changing or deciding about her own life. Watch me do it now!

I feel at peace. Things are not perfect, there are deadlines, hundreds of emails waiting, people to meet, things to discuss and letters to write. But I feel at peace... its as if my soul has taken into account what Shams Tabrizi very beautifully says about accepting the current moment, opening our arms to life and letting life work for us - not against us. I am learning that perfection is not possible, and I am also learning that perfection would not allow me to feel joy. A little craze, a little drama and that wee bit of tension can spike up a moment so that we can shake our heads let ourselves feel down to pick ourselves back again and then accept the situation ... and so here I am, shaking my head now because things are not perfect, in fact they are quite a mess but I let my soul accept it, I take responsibility and then I try again while enjoying the peace that enters into my heart like the rays of this setting sun that's beautifying everything it touches...

A few months ago in Boulder, Colorado I planned to get a photo frame for a friend of mine for his birthday and so went to the nearest Art shop.

As I asked the lady at the counter if they had those certain kind of frames, she looked up from jotting something down on her notebook and said, "no I am sorry we don't, perhaps the next shop has it".

I thanked her and started walking towards the door but then it hit me, something about her eyes was not right. I went back to her and said, "excuse me... I am so sorry but you look kind of sad, can I give you a hug"? After a startled expression on her face she walked out of the counter and we hugged for a few seconds until her whole body trembled and tears rolled off her face. "I have just had a few weeks of tough time at home", she said honestly... "today was the worst but I thank you for this, it makes a really big difference". There was an awkward pause in each of her word as she was definitely feeling weird for hugging a random traditionally-dressed girl. But the feeling of loss that I had seen in her eyes at first seem to have fad a bit and that smile was enough to make that moment more beautiful and powerful.

After saying our goodbyes, as I walked out of the door I felt a million years of warmth and peace in my heart. That melting feeling of joy that passed from my heart and veins to all corners of my body told me to celebrate a human connection which does not ask for rationality, reasoning, and answers. It just loves and finds joy in it.

Wanted to share this with you friends to remind you that there are people around us everywhere who are in desperate need of that attention or a simple hug. Some you may know. Go give them a hug today, believe me its a feeling worth dozen rewards~

Three years ago a mentor of mine suggested I meet Oprah Winfrey before I get killed, I smiled. A year later, another good friend recommended the very same thing but when the same suggestion came the third time recently I knew something seriously important lay behind this.

Although it was still hard for me to understand the point behind a celebrity meeting a struggling village girl. With my naive knowledge about world's famous people, I only knew that this woman had power and success at her feet. The distance between her and myself is enormous, with her fame and personality she has much important things to do then speak to me, and about what?

But then I met Oprah this past April 2013. Luck brought us together as speakers in the same conference in New York. There I was, a young little girl with layers of traditional clothing, while Oprah a strong woman whom I had seen on TV now standing right there in front of me in elegant expensive cloths.

As I spoke to her in an embarrassing trembling voice, my habit forced me to gaze into her eyes and there I saw something that eased me... something that took away the anxiety within me and made the air in the room much lighter. I saw Authenticity.Oprah Winfrey was not a celebrity. She was one true woman and all that she had become was because she chose to stay her true self and prove to everyone that a young girl from Mississippi can shake the world.

At that moment I slowly looked around us, people surrounded us with camera's, hopes and smiles. Through their eyes I saw, "The Oprah Winfrey", the worlds most known woman and  "An Ambitious Girl" from the mountains, I didn't see much difference between us.

In the end when she hugged me, I realized I didn't have to find reasons for why I should meet her. I only knew one thing very clearly: The future and past were facing each other right at that time, my heart strongly gestured a future where I would stand just like that as a strong woman leader hugging a young girl who has struggled, and right there in that moment of connection I would also whisper in her ear: "I am proud of you my dear". 

Thank you Oprah <3 p="">

Today dad drove me on his old bike in the old streets of Karachi....


In the dark of the night when traffic was slow and the moon almost full, dad increased the speed on the bike. I clutched tight and shouted a big woohoo! and he laughed a high-pitched young laugh.
The moment converted into the streets of my hometown when my little hands clutched him for dear life as he would speed the bike into the streets not even caring for the glares that people gave the (very rare) father-daughter bond.

We have both come a long way, both warriors in our own lives and with our own struggles.. we disagree at things, we celebrate somethings and there are times we don't talk to each other for long... But both of us know that being with each other keeps us strong and reminds us that no matter how hard the life comes upon you, you would always have that one bond, one friendship which is the strongest among all and which is far beyond the pressures of the society, the concepts of dishonor or even shame - it only talks affection and understands affection, everything else is just the dirt that flew behind our bike when we zoomed around this big city!

In the outskirts of Hyderabad, Pakistan right before when you enter the modest city via the highway from Karachi, a dirt road leads to a small rural community called Khuda Ki Basti (God's Community), I spent my childhood days there when I was not running around in the mountains of Balochistan. This weekend I went back to give-back, to see those streets, touch that land and feel that wind which have contributed in making me who I am today. And when I sat with the people and children, I felt my soul melt with content, and my heart dance in peace. That inner discovery amazed me and I thanked my soul for telling me that sometimes we forget that something inside us is longing to reach out, to connect and to be a part of the identity we once were. I take pride in that and fully honor every single person, place and thing that came in my life throughout my journey.

Returning from the US after my talk at Google recently, I discovered that my love for Pakistan isn't something of a mere saying, its a terribly painful feeling mixed with longing and lots of tears. In just a little time I wanted to be back to my mountains I belong to, the noise and scent of this earth and the laughter of my siblings.

But when I got back, along with that satisfied feeling of familiarity I sensed another feeling which more like hit me like the breaking news we often get in Pakistan. The sense of freedom and mobility I had as a woman there in the US is not present in Pakistan. I could not walk to my office. Although I tried to but parents showed me eyes that said, don't you dare! I waited for the bus for a long time to get somewhere, I paid huge lumps of money to go around in a Rickshaw and more troublesome then anything I had to sweet-talk my brother for hours to get him to drop me off somewhere on his motorbike.

This sense of dependency kind of declared I was not a free woman after all, although I am by all definitions a "working woman" who tends to do their own decisions, makes their own choices and yes runs their own business. But when it comes to just going across the street, I cannot go on my own.

I have been thinking about this from a while now and I think International Women's Day gives me a good reason to get the word out there to all of my fellow girls in Pakistan.

Why don't we bike/motorbike to work and other places? 

I know there have been a number of attempts on this previously in the country where amazingly brave women did the following:



























I respect these women and girls and respect all of you out there who have wanted to do this from a long time (I know many of you). Lets begin once again, what's the worst that can happen?

If you want to join in on this slow revolution join us at Sughar Women Program facebook page today! www.facebook.com/SugharWomen

Seriously, this is going to be a good news for men who are tired of taking around their female family members everywhere.

Heard the Pakistani National Anthem being sung by little kids inside a school today while coming back from my morning walk, Stood there to listen, each word echoed with great power, shaking my whole body, Goosebumps made me shiver from head to toe until my tears couldn't stop. Every word, every praise was a lie.

How much of it we really meant? How many of these kids knew what it meant to praise our country every morning? They would sing the anthem like robots and go back to their lives forgetting the promise, we all do, we are all traitors... how much have we given back to this land?

It hurts to face the truth, but more importantly it hurts to face ourselves, we find it easier to deny because denial does not expose us, does not make us vulnerable. But please, for God's sake, face your fears; face yourself because right there within you is a human, a heart and inside it is God. Let God work through you and start giving back to this land and its people, little by little, piece by piece, the smallest contribution (not the easiest) would count, start today, start now. Let’s start by saying we are sorry – I AM SORRY PAKISTAN, I am sorry people of Abbas town and every other innocent person that lost their life in the recent incidents, may your sacrifice let this country and its people rise again. Amen.

Photo Credit: [https://www.facebook.com/mevlana]

I have seen him through the depth of my thoughts

We at Sughar have won, big time! In a way where winning is defined in a much more victorious way and where winning means: Standing surrounded by the support of thousands of people who come from very diverse geographical, cultural and social backgrounds, with diverse languages, faith and traditions! 

We love you all and thank you all, and once again want to tell you how fortunate we are to know YOU~ 

With Gratitude and Blessings, 

Khalida Brohi

This is beautiful, I just felt like sharing it here~ 


A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.