It is said that your soul becomes truncated when you live an inauthentic life.

For a long time, I felt my life limited in enthusiasm, devoid of passion. I was not sure what my life’s design should be but knew that living the unoriginal life was slowly poisoning me.

Something I always had was a deep love for books. My love for my father naturally deepened because he produced the objects of my affection.

I yearned to write. But overcome with fear and doubt, I felt shackled and anchored in mediocrity. I found myself climbing the ladder within the corporate world with life speeding by, leaving me stumbling after it.

Late in 2012, after fetching my dad from the hospital, he broke the news that he had been diagnosed with Motor Neuron Disease, a degenerative illness. The only reason I knew what it was was that a famous South African rugby player was battling the same disease.

Ten months later, on 31 August 2013, my father passed away. The end of his life profoundly affected me. Life after his death touched me deeper still.

I got to know my dad more intimately in death than I knew him in life. Pondering, reflecting and drawing meaning from his life has rooted him in my heart. His tireless dedication to the Deen has left me inspired. He was my beacon, now gone from the ephemeral world but still residing in my heart.

I decided to wear my father’s tasselled red fez (kufi) on the days of Eid. He never left the house without wearing it and even wore it at his home in the presence of guests.

Donning the red fez, I felt connected to him. Many remarked that wearing the red fez; I looked just like my father! My children thought I looked funny wearing it. Wanting to imitate, they would put it on their heads but of course due to the size of the fez; it would cover their faces down to their noses! Leaving us all in giggles. Little did we know that the red kufi would soon come to mean much more than just a head covering.

Still mired in what felt meaningless, life in the corporate world reached a tipping point for me. I decided to throw in the towel and change course.

I was living in my father’s house, surrounded by his books and it was to his books that I turned. After praying Istikhaarah and seeking guidance from the Almighty Creator of the Universe, I decided that I would turn to what had been brewing inside me for a long time. And that was to write. In particular, picture books for children.

I wanted to teach foundational truths and Islamic rituals through the child’s love for play. The Prophet Muhammad صا الله عليه وسلم taught us that children should play until the age of seven. Teaching this way enlivens the spirit of the child and helps them learn organically.

At the same time, I would uphold my father’s legacy by giving the world access to his works. We would rebrand Daddy’s Books, which was the original publishing house and distribution arm of my father’s publications, and extend the marketing of his books to the international arena. Another decision taken was to revise and update his earliest works in aesthetics and content.

We plan, but the Almighty Allah certainly has the best of plans. Since making this decision, He has placed people in our lives that are meant to assist us in our journey.

One of these dear friends has been instrumental in guiding us in this venture. While discussing ideas for what I envisioned, the decision was taken to rebrand completely. We needed a stronger brand for our vision. In brainstorming ideas, we spoke about my father’s love for the red fez (kufi). And that’s how the name was born. Red Kufi Books it would be, we decided!

It resonated with us that Red Kufi Books would be a brand that Muslims internationally would better relate to but one that still held deep meaning for my family and me.

I walked out of corporate life on 31 August 2015, unwittingly two years to the day that my father died and began Red Kufi Books the following day.