| This is the 565th story of Our Life Logs® | My story begins amid sad circumstances in the 1960s. My parents were both born in India and...

For years, I had worked day and night for my sons to get the education they needed so that they could get away from their abusive father

Have you ever seen a potter while he’s at work? The exposure to the right intensity of heat for the perfect amount of time turns...

My childhood was a distressing one because we never had enough to eat or spend on ourselves. Since I could remember, my father...

As a kid, my father used to tell me that “life is not a bed of roses,” and now I wish I would have taken him seriously...

I grew up watching how hard my father worked to earn bread for us. Because he was a mason, my father spent his days under the hot sun...

As a little boy, I would help my father sell fresh cookies in the streets of our city, Lahore. We woke up early on many mornings...

One might think that may have become an obstacle for me; luckily, that has not, or not yet. Coming from a community where majority of the...