an itinerant observer

Rakhshee has never done things halfway, and I should have known from the start that her greatest lesson—the art of unyielding resilience—would be her gift to me. She is a teacher in the truest sense, but her methods are far from orthodox. Back in Karachi, she was my history teacher, and her classroom was as much a theater of stories as it was a lecture hall. She did not just teach history; she made us see it, feel it, question it, bringing figures and events to life with a voice that demanded attention. Through her teaching, she subtly reshaped my life’s course, though I did not realize it at the time. Years later, as I drifted deeper into academic medicine, entrenched in medical charts and lectures, I was reminded of Rakhshee’s wisdom—the stories, the humor, and her knack for nudging others toward a broader view of life. Her voice, in many ways, drew me into the world of children’s literature—a realm she opened to me with unexpected passion. She taught me that the only real critics ...