Our Journey

5. Family

Hidayah Ahmed shared a close-knit bond with her family, a warmth that filled their four-bedroom home. As the eldest of three siblings, she had a unique dynamic with each family member. Her father was a gentle giant, a source of strength and laughter, and both Hidayah and her sister, Hasibah, were undoubtedly "Daddy's little girls."

"Dad, can you tell us about the time you got lost in the market?" Hasibah asked one evening, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Oh, that old story!" he chuckled, settling into his chair, his voice filled with nostalgia. "I was about your age, and I thought I was being clever. I wandered off to see the stalls, and the next thing I knew, I couldn't find your grandpa!"

"Did you panic?" Hidayah giggled, leaning in closer, the familiar warmth of family enveloping her.

"Just a little," he admitted, his tone shifting to mock seriousness. "But I found a nice lady who sold sweets, and she gave me some to calm my nerves. It was the best day ever!"

As she listened, Hidayah felt a rush of affection for her father. His ability to turn a simple memory into a delightful story always made her heart swell. She cherished these moments; they were the foundation of their family's laughter and love.

Their grandparents lived with them, bringing a rich cultural heritage into their daily lives. Hidayah loved conversing with them in Bangla, their language woven with the essence of home. One afternoon, she caught her grandfather in the living room, sharing a cup of tea.

"Dada, can you teach me that poem you love?" Hidayah asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Of course, my dear! It's called 'Shonar Bangla.' It speaks of our beautiful land," he replied, his eyes lighting up. "But first, tell me about your day."

"It was good, Alhamdulillah! and you know the kid I'm supporting is making progress," she shared, her pride evident.

"Ah, you are making a difference!" he beamed. "I am proud of you."

Although her mother was born and raised in England, she embraced her Bengali roots, often playfully complaining about the kids slipping into English at home. "You lot could use a little more culture in your lives," she would tease, shaking her head with a smile.

"Amma, we can speak Bangla when we need to," Hidayah would laugh, knowing her mother just wanted them to appreciate their heritage. 

Her mother would roll her eyes affectionately. "Just promise me you won't forget where you come from."

In the midst of this familial tapestry, Hidayah felt a special bond with her seven-year-old brother, Hassan. With his bright eyes and infectious grin, he was one of the smartest kids she knew. His dreams were as big as his heart; he often declared with utmost seriousness, "When I grow up, I'm going to buy you both a car!" He would pause for dramatic effect before adding, "And take Mummy and Daddy on holiday, too!"

"That sounds amazing, Hassan! But how will you pay for it?" Hasibah teased, trying to stifle her laughter.

"I'll save all my pocket money!" he replied confidently, puffing out his chest. "And I'm going to become a doctor, so I'll have lots of money!"

Hidayah couldn't help but beam with pride at his ambition. "Hassan, you're going to be amazing," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Just remember, it's not just about money. It's about helping people, too."

"I know, I know! I'll help everyone!" he insisted, his eyes wide with determination.

Their family dinners were lively affairs, filled with stories, laughter, and the delicious aromas of Bengali cuisine. One evening, as they sat around the dining table enjoying biryani, Hidayah's father asked, "What was the best part of your day, everyone?"