Rabiya khan biography of william hill

My mother Mrs. Rabia Khan with all of her children from left: Mehfuz Khan, Reza Khan, Shahana Khan & myself.

The backdrop

This story begins with the arrival of a 12-year-old boy, back in January of 1974, holding his father’s hand into a country that was so distant and alien at that time. This is the story of my life, its highs and the lows, and how a young lad made through it.

My father I came to Sydney with my late father Masud Alam Khan. My mum, sister and two brothers stayed back until my father was absolutely sure that he wanted the whole family to settle in Australia. We were housed in Villawood Migrant Hostel with other newly arrived immigrants from all around the world. My dad planned to settle in Melbourne following a stopover in Sydney. However, as destiny would have it, he was convinced to settle in Sydney by a couple of Bangladeshi families. Rest of our family joined us in mid-1974.

Father and son back then

The Challenges

Starting life in a new country can provide challenges to any family from dislocation, new language, culture, climate and food platter. Unexpectedly we found Australia’s economic, infrastructural, social and environmental development well below of what we expected and experienced in Islamabad, West Pakistan during 1967-69 or Dhaka, East Pakistan of 1965-71. My father found it hard to land a suitable job in line with his experience of working with the Australian High Commission prior to coming here. He had to settle for a middle management role with the Berger Paints. Consequently, our living standard fell sharply restricting us from living in neighbourhoods with better schooling, amenities and community support including travels to Bangladesh to be with the relatives and friends.

Life for Asians back then was pretty difficult. There were about a total of 10-12 Bangladeshi families in Sydney. There were not any community or religious based support organisations to assist the likes of us. The first mosque was establi

 It’s been just three days since buried Jiah - her beautiful, doomed daughter . There can be no bigger tragedy in the world than for a mother to lose her precious child. And if suicide is the cause of the child’s death, then the depth of that tragedy is still more immeasurable. 25-year-old is gone. 

God bless her troubled soul. But what becomes of Rabiya Khan, her grieving mother? One out of three lovely daughters is no more. That void is a permanent one. Understandably, the other two girls have their own lives to live, and will move on eventually. As will neighbours, friends and other relatives.
 

That’s life. From this moment on, it will be Rabiya and her memories. Rabiya and her sorrow. Rabiya and her regrets. It is the future of the twice-divorced Rabiya that will require emotional cushioning as she deals with the tragedy that is likely to haunt her for the rest of her life.
 

I have been talking to several film people during the past few days. Some of them knew Jiah and Rabiya quite well. A prominent film maker recalled the copious tears of joy Rabiya had shed after watching the first screening of Jiah’s debut film, ‘Nishabd’. According to him, Rabiya was so overcome with undisguised happiness, it was almost like she was avenging the trauma of  her own thwarted dream  (Rabiya was a small-time starlet). Apparently, right after the lights came on, Rabiya kept repeating how her daughter would be the biggest star in Bollywood after the film’s release.
 

Around her, appreciative friends were equally busy declaring Jiah the next best thing in movieland. Jiah herself was slightly more restrained, but it was obvious that mother and daughter were more than confident that Jiah had already conquered Bollywood. That the film crashed with a resounding thud must have been the first of many shocks and several disappointments to follow. And this is where the tragedy began&

I was born in Pakistan. When I came to England in 1997, I was only 2 years old. I had almost no memories of Pakistan. At first we went to Rochdale as I used to have cousins there. We lived with them for a while and then we came here to Sheffield. I went to Sheffield University nursery while my mum was doing her PhD.

The first day I went to nursery I remember I was crying my eyes out! I was really sad when my mum left me there but the teachers were very kind and comforted me. After a while I started to play and join in. I even made friends with a girl called Maheere from Egypt. From that day on, I had really had fun and made other friends. In the summer going and coming back to nursery from home was fine but in the winter I used to ask my mum, "Why do you come to get me at night?" because I didn't know then that the sun set earlier in winter than in summer.

In 2003, when I was eight years old, I went for a three month holiday to Pakistan. I was really fascinated as most things were different from England - cows in the middle of the road, tongas, rickshaws and buses with open windows and noisy horns. Packed trains with open doors and windows. People crossing busy roads without any pedestrian crossings or red lights. During this holidays, I visited the small town where my grandfather lives. This was my first experience of seeing sugar cane and vegetables growing in the fields. I saw people working on the land, ploughing with animals. I learnt how these people in the villages live with their animals and grow their food from agricultural land.

Now I am living in Burngreave. I go to Parkwood High School. I like it there and have made quite a few friends such as Memory, Yousra and Sophie. I like Burngreave as it is multilingual and a lot of different communities and races live here. In 2005 I went to Pakistan again for my aunt's wedding. It was a typical Pakistani wedding with Asian music and dancing and Asian food. This was a new experience