A heartwarming tribute from a father living in Saudi Arabia to his newborn son, Talha, born in Kashmir, highlights the challenges of expat life and the enduring power of love and family bonds

I sit here in Saudi Arabia, a world away from the place that now holds my heart—Kashmir. It was Saturday, August 31st, 2024, when Allah blessed me with a beautiful baby boy, my son, Talha. But as I found myself thousands of miles away, my joy was intertwined with a bittersweet ache that only someone living the expat life would understand. Though I was blessed with fatherhood, I could not be there for those precious first moments. I couldn’t hold him, feel his tiny hands, or gaze into the innocent eyes of the child who now carries my name, my essence and my heart.

In those moments when I should have been celebrating this new life, I was filled with an emptiness that only distance can create. My family in Kashmir basked in the miracle of life while I was stranded far away, aching to be by their side. It is hard to put into words the pain of not being there to share in that joy—missing the first cries, the first breath, the first touch.

I remember clearly that evening here in Saudi Arabia when I texted my elder brother, desperate for news. The wait was nerve-wracking, with minutes feeling like hours. I kept glancing at my phone, hoping for any update. He sent me pictures of the waiting area outside the operating theatre, where quiet anticipation and prayers filled the air. Then, at exactly 6:02 PM Saudi time, the moment finally arrived—my brother sent me a voice clip, his voice overflowing with joy and love. “Alhamdulillah, congratulations! You have been blessed with a baby boy!” The words should have filled me with immense happiness, but I didn’t feel the full joy of the moment until I saw my mother’s face on a video call.

When the call connected, and I saw her radiant smile, with tears of joy brimming in her eyes, everything clicked into place. That is a moment I will cherish forever—a moment I want to etch into my memory for all time. I had never seen my mother so happy before, her joy so pure and all-consuming. It felt as though all the hardships and struggles of life faded away in that instant, replaced by the overwhelming joy of welcoming a new life into our family.

I also want to thank my precious wife, Insha, for everything. Innu, you have always stood by my side, guiding me through every phase of life. Even during this time when you needed me the most, you never once made me feel the weight of your struggles. You were brave, strong, and understanding beyond measure. Your patience and strength have been an inspiration to me. Thank you for everything you have done, and for being a source of strength even when I was far away. May Allah bless you for your sacrifices, and I promise to always be by your side.

I also want to take a moment to shine a light on a man whose impact on my family has been nothing short of profound—Dr Amir. There are doctors who heal with their hands, and then there are those rare few who heal with their hands, hearts, and souls. Dr Amir belongs to the latter. When I was miles away in Saudi Arabia, longing to be by my wife’s side as she gave birth to our son, it was Dr Amir who not only ensured that the medical side of things was handled with the utmost professionalism and care but also provided my family with emotional and spiritual support that eased my anxieties from afar.

Knowing that my wife, Insha, was under his care gave me a sense of peace that is difficult to put into words. His calm and comforting reassurances—”You stay at ease”—carried more weight than he could ever know. Those words helped me breathe a little easier, knowing that, after Allah, my wife and newborn were in the safest of hands. I had heard of his reputation as an experienced and loyal doctor, but in this critical moment, he became much more than that—he became the guardian of my family when I could not be there myself.

But Dr Amir went beyond just fulfilling his medical duties. After the successful delivery, he performed an act that filled my heart with gratitude—he recited the Azaan into my son’s ears. This was more than a religious rite; it was a blessing that connected me, despite the miles between us, to my newborn son through our shared faith. It meant the world to me that the first words my son heard were words of faith, words that connect us to Allah. This act of kindness and faith, carried out by Dr Amir, is something I will never forget.

Dr Amir, I owe you more than just a thank you. You were there for my family when I couldn’t be, and for that, I am forever in your debt. Your care extended beyond the medical; you brought comfort to my heart, knowing that, after Allah’s will, my family was being looked after by someone who truly cared. The sense of relief you gave me during this time is something I will always hold dear. Your presence, professionalism, and compassion made a world of difference in this critical moment in my life, and for that, I thank you from the depths of my heart.

To everyone who stood by me, who shared their congratulations, and who helped me get through this time—thank you. Your kind words, your support, and your prayers have meant more to me than you could ever know. Even though I was far away, I never felt alone because of the love and support of my family and friends.

Some people think that those of us who live abroad do so only for money, that the decision to stay away from home is purely financial. They see our absence from family gatherings, weddings, births, and even funerals, and assume it is all for the sake of a paycheck. What they fail to see is the bond that ties us to our families, the sacrifices we make—not for material wealth, but for the betterment of our loved ones. Yes, we may be physically absent, but our hearts are always home. We don’t stay here for the money; we stay for the dreams we carry for our families, for the opportunities we hope to give them and for the lives we want to build together even from afar.

Talha, my dear son, all I have with me in this lonely moment is my name—the name that has carried my identity, my experiences, my soul. And today, I gift it to you. Your name will forever be a part of me, my pen name, my signature, a symbol of the bond between us that distance can never weaken. Though I cannot hold you now, you are etched into every part of me, in every word I write, in every thought that crosses my mind. You are with me in every moment, even when I am far away.

This distance may have stolen our first moments together, but it can never steal the bond that exists between us. Until the day I can hold you in my arms until I can feel the weight of your little body and hear the sound of your soft breath, I carry you in my heart. I miss you more than words can ever express, but I know that this sacrifice is temporary. One day, insha’Allah, we will be together, and I will be able to look into your eyes and tell you all the stories of how much I loved you even before I could hold you.

For now, I take comfort in the knowledge that you are safe and loved by your mother, your grandparents, and all those who surround you in Kashmir. My love reaches you across these miles, stronger than any distance. You may be far away, but you are never far from my thoughts. You are a part of me now and forever, and I will continue to honour our bond, even from this far-off land.

This is the life we expats live—our hearts split between two worlds, always missing one as we try to build a better future for the other. And though the sacrifice feels heavy at times, we do it for the love of our families, for the dreams we share, and for the future we hope to create together. One day, Talha, I will hold you in my arms, and all this distance will feel like nothing. Until that day comes, know that you are loved beyond measure and that nothing—not even the greatest distances—can break the bond between us.

By Shah Talha Fayaz

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Shah Talha Fayaz