Tag Archives: ismaili

The Foundation for FIRE: 3 Lessons from A Family in Permanent Hustle Mode

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Gujaratis are famous for their business acumen. Stereotypes make me cringe, but this one I see proven through my family experiences. Even with my professional education, I have always had some business on the side. As I trace my roots, I see entrepreneurs throughout my lineage. My maternal grandfather moved his family from post-colonial India to rural Pakistan. Through a combination of land ownership, the running of a small mill, and a wholesale grocer, he could support a family of nine. On the other side, my father’s family moved from India to East Africa to trade in agricultural goods. The stories of hustle were a natural part of my upbringing. The observations I made from watching my extended, and immediate family prepared me for the ups and downs of business. With a can-do spirit, the obstacles along the path became teachable moments.

Family Photo (circa 2001?)

1. Reading, Writing & Arithmetic

My uncle Wazir is a successful and well-loved real estate broker in Toronto. He did not, however, start his career in real estate. He was born in Pakistan and was offered a scholarship for a master’s program abroad through excellence in his studies. After finishing his engineering studies in Honolulu, opportunity took him to the shipyards of Baltimore. From there, he eventually sought a better quality of life in Canada. His analytical mind, undoubtedly honed by his education, led him to seek better returns on his time through real estate. With a singular focus, to make more time in his life for his family, he was able to engineer his life. From his strategic thinking and natural warmth, he grew his real estate business from word-of-mouth referrals. His example, to me, speaks of the combination of education and humanity in success.  

Similarly, while both of my parents were physicians, they both had a desire for business. When my parents arrived in Atlanta, neither was licensed to practice medicine in the US. My parents plunged their savings into a 24-hour gas station/ convenience store in a rough downtown neighborhood to make an income. This venture required grit, humility, and lots of hands-on management. From there, their golden egg, my mother was able to return to her studies and get licensure to practice in America. Eventually, she created her own medical practice in Atlanta’s underserved Latino community. Though she does not speak Spanish, she partnered with a well-connected church organizer. This partnership helped her to step into the market with language and relationships. My parent’s story carries the lesson of education and collaboration. In each instance, my mother’s business success relied on finding support from a partner.

2. Follow Your Heart

In the late 90s, my two favorite uncles lived around the corner from us in Atlanta. Initially, they worked at the family gas station. However, they did not want to participate in the sale of alcohol and cigarettes. For them, these products were part of a lifestyle inconsistent with Islamic principles. So, these two brothers searched for other ventures that would allow them to work with autonomy and righteousness. They investigated a windows and glass installation company; for a while, they helped homeowners delay the process of foreclosure. Finally, they settled on the business of hair distribution. When they first started, online shopping was not the norm. Shopify was non-existent; my uncles were early adopters. In the post-pandemic world, they have excelled because their platform was ready for a wholesale shift in perspective. In their struggle to follow certain principles, I find proof that anyone can find the right business if they keep at it.

Clean Up Pretty!

My cousin Mariam’s story, is probably my favorite, though. We are related via my father’s side of the family, and since she grew up in the UAE, we did not spend a lot of time together as kids. However, while I was at the University of Maryland Law School in downtown Baltimore, I got to know her better. She worked at a snazzy lighting store in Annapolis not too far away. Her eye for design and art were ever-present, and I am sure the lighting folks were happy to have her. But her heart was in crafts. She has a talent for making handmade soaps that are both beautiful and cruelty-free. Initially, she started selling her creations on Etsy. I remember buying her soaps early on. Ten years later, Chester River Soaperie operates in a worldwide niche for custom retail and wholesale soaps and lotions. Through her success, I see the importance of remaining faithful to your inner calling. Mariam is a creator, and now she stands in the world of her creation.

Dispute Diligently

3. Read the Fine Print

Running a business is not a cakewalk. Some of the lessons I learned are cautionary tales. Litigation can deplete cash reserves and sap emotional energy. Drew, one of my uncles, was eager to make money fast through the gas station business. He jumped into a lease-purchase agreement when he thought he saw a good deal. Drew believed he had a valid option to purchase the station without much external investigation. After a few months of running the store, the property was sold from under him. Drew was wronged, but he let his anger fuel his following choices. He embarked on protracted litigation over the right to purchase. In stubbornly chasing his indignation, Drew got a raw deal. He pursued a lemon and lost both money and energy. In Drew’s story, I see the importance of hiring help to do diligence and identifying when to cut your losses.

Even though Gujaratis share a fantastic track record, it is not just their birth in the community that entitles them to success. I saw that the goal was never money for the sake of money. The key motivations are a determination to do the right work and the perseverance to make a particular lifestyle. The larger goal was for a balance in purpose and family life. With these values at the forefront, the family keeps a humble and narrow focus on the more significant why. Beyond the veneer of success, there are the pox marks of sacrifices. I have been keeping an inner log of the lessons in my work towards financial independence. Most importantly, I recognize that it is a process. Good partners, good motivations, and sound legal counsel are critical to making it through.

Growing Up Ismaili: Celebrating Spring with Navroz Mubarak

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Courtyard of Atlanta Khane

            Navroz Mubarak! Congratulations on the New Year! No one is surprised when I tell them that Spring is my favorite season. Blooming flowers and warm weather are only part of the reason. Growing up in Atlanta, the celebration of Spring (Navroz) was my favorite way to celebrate my pluralistic roots. My upbringing within a progressive, eclectic sect of Islam contrasted traditional notions of being a practicing Muslim. While I have chosen spirituality over religion, I can see that many of my foundational values are rooted in growing up Ismaili.

            Ismailis mark the beginning of Spring in a blend of Islamic traditions. My family, living in Georgia, adapted our own practices. If the first day of Spring fell on a school day, my sister and I were allowed to skip class! Before leaving the house to join the festivities, we made an enormous effort in getting dolled up. My sister and I might have had a new festive shalwar kameez to wear, depending on the finances. We spruced up our everyday look with fancy hairdos and ornate jewelry to complement our outfits’ embroidery, sequins, or tassels. Sometimes we adorned our clothes with tiny purses made of metal, lined in satin and sown together and clipped with a bold clasp. The whole family perfumed itself in exotic smells. Then, still, early in the day, we packed the car with the blended aroma of Dad’s aftershave and the lady’s floral perfumes. As we headed to Jamat Khane (what we called our house of worship, our church) for the beginning of festivities, we would listen to a pre-recorded religious lecture over the sound system.

Dressed up for a Song

Thankfully, getting to Khane during the daytime meant avoiding the Decatur traffic. Hundreds of other cars had already filled in the parking lot. After grumbling about parking and pulling into an always far away spot, my family entered through the courtyard gates. We were well-coifed and a bit frazzled from the ride as we approached the red brick building, our holy place. At the foyer, I turned in my shoes for a numbered token. Upon entering the vast hall, the ladies on the left, the men on the right, I found a place to sit on the plush pink carpet with dark blue borders. I breathed in the smells of Oudh and looked around to peek at the long table separating the genders. At the front of the hall,  a congregation member sang religious songs. The songs there, ginans or qasidas, came from the vast global roots of the Ismaili community. The recitations could be in Farsi, Gujarati, or Kutchi.

Namaz on Navroz

            After the singing, and on this day alone, there was a typical namaz; this is what most people imagine when they think of Muslim prayers: people stand up, bend down, and repeat the moves a few times. After the prayer ceremonies, food and drink were served in the outside courtyard. A fair-like atmosphere pervaded the grounds. Younger people could sometimes expect an `eidi` a cash gift for simply smiling and shaking hands with an elder. That first day of Spring was usually the only day I wanted to go to Khane. Celebrating Spring was a stark contrast to my other recollections of attending Khane.

Sunday School on Friday Night

            For some unknown reason, the most vital day to congregate was Friday evenings, after a long week of school or life. Being involuntarily taken to Khane on Friday nights was the bane of my high school existence. I grudgingly dressed for Friday nights and then suffered in the backseat through excruciating rush hour to arrive and be grumpy for more classes. My version of Sunday school happened on Fridays. I dutifully attended the Religious Education Center, REC, taught by a community of volunteers who all seemed to know my parents. Though it was better than forced prayers in the main hall, I could not suppress my desire to poke holes in history or doctrine. I attended REC while debating and disagreeing in most of the class. One classmate was impressed with my brain, and the others were just annoyed with my questions.

Who is driving her?

            After the ceremonies or REC was over, I headed to the Khane library. If caught by a family friend on the way there, I socialized a bit. When it was finally time to leave, my parents knew to find me in the library. When my parents were ready to go on most Friday nights, they sent me to search for my sister in crowds of people. I appreciated the brick peek-a-boo fence and flower patches between the laps or two along the courtyard outside. In my meanderings outside, I eavesdropped on volunteers and cringed at comments. Invariably I overheard people’s lives being examined and judged. A few steps into the parking lot, there was yet another version of the same game. At every turn, people were wondering: Who is driving the new beamer? Beyond that, over tea, `what does your son do now?` Or the eyes watching for what insignia or emblem is hanging off your keys? The community practiced, constantly, the subtle one-man upmanship.

Hungry Yet?

            Fridays sometimes ended well. When we returned home or went to my grandma’s house after Khane, we delighted in what my parents bought in “nandi.” Within the prayer hall, separating the male and female sections, was a low-lying table with various plates of food. The dishes were of all colors and represented a world of cuisines. They were all brought in by the diverse congregation. Nandi was the term used for these food offerings that were auctioned off after ceremonies. The proceeds went to Khane funds. The act of sending part of your home-cooking grows from the importance of an abundance mindset. You GIVE away a portion of your lovingly made meal to Khane. The by-products were two-fold: the revenue for Khane and the opportunity for Jamaat members to eat something different. The best surprises were when someone sent in an East African dish of mandazi and bharazi. The prices could get high on a special occasion day. With his foodie tendencies, my Dad always seemed to find it worth the cost. Many nandi dishes simply could not be bought anywhere else.  

Diverse and Growing

            Spring nandi sometimes included arrangements of flowers and fruit. The luxurious day was a celebration of new life, the very essence of Spring. Explaining the background of the Ismaili lineage was always a bit complicated. A long-winded book, The Ismailis, covers some history and doctrine, if you are curious Still, I can see how the sect I was raised in reflects on my life now. Of course, food, travel, self-growth, and entrepreneurship are essential to me. I came from a thriving, diverse community that was both enjoying the past and diving into a full American tomorrow. What I accepted from this past and those parts I rejected are more evident now. My spirituality is freed from the dogma of religion. Underneath it, the Ismaili spirit of pluralism, community effort, and self-growth are my foundation.  

A reflection