From Karachi to Oxford: A journey of identity and belonging

Your most recent book, Home, #itscomplicated is deeply evocative. How has your understanding of “home” evolved through your journeys between Karachi, Oxford, Abu Dhabi, and beyond?

For years, I clung to a romanticised notion of home as a fixed, physical place, a neatly bounded entity offering me a passport, even if little else. My focus on academic ideas of belonging and permanence made it hard to see home as something fluid. Over time, I’ve embraced a more liminal version: a space of shifting contours where the nucleus remains — family, memory, a state of mind. It’s taken courage and unlearning to see that you can forge familiarity and attachments even in the in-between. In short, my understanding of home now begins with the reality that #itscomplicated.

In your documentary Concrete Dreams, you explore ambition in unexpected corners. Do you see a common thread with your writing?

I’m frustrated by how often we “dumb down” or exoticise those we perceive as less privileged, reducing their lives to stereotypes. The anthropologist in me is fascinated by the possibilities — dreams, desires, agency — revealed in places like Pakistan’s underground rap scene. My aim isn’t to trivialise hardship but to show that stars can, and do, emerge from anarchy. That hope connects both my films and my writing.

Is there a specific place or routine that helps ground you amidst the complexities?

I take complexities head-on, a habit shaped by my liberal arts training, particularly anthropology. The challenge is distilling chaos into the simplicity of a folk song, balancing creative license with structure and discipline. Storytelling is a craft as much as an art, and my creative toolkit helps me piece things together when I feel stuck. I also draw deep solace from spirituality.

How do you approach your own identity as an artist and storyteller in a globalised world?

Identity is “mongrelised,” relational, and context-dependent. I’m constantly code-switching, mother and reader with my girls, educator with students, storyteller when building worlds. I aim to bring all these dimensions to my work rather than reducing characters to binaries. That’s when more people will feel seen in our literature and films, and when we can get comfortable with the messiness of identity.

As a teacher, how does engaging with young, creative minds shape your view of storytelling and identity?

My biggest takeaway from a decade at NYU is the value of deep listening, being open to perspectives far from my own, while actively unlearning my biases.

How do you recharge outside of creative work?

Playing the piano, basketball, time with my girls, and long conversations with friends.

What are you working on next?

A children’s book co-written with my 16-year-old niece, out later this year. A documentary called W.R.A.P., exploring Pakistan’s Urdu underground rap scene, currently on the festival circuit. And an experimental short film Dealing in Desire, made with Sarmad Sultan Khoosat.