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    <title>The Dawn News - People</title>
    <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/</link>
    <description>Dawn News</description>
    <language>en-Us</language>
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    <pubDate>Wed, 22 Apr 2026 23:08:02 +0500</pubDate>
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      <title>The Power of Music</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145558/the-power-of-music</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;First published in &lt;em&gt;Aurora’s&lt;/em&gt; May-June 2001 edition.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AURORA: How did your music career begin?&lt;br /&gt;
Arshad Mahmud:&lt;/strong&gt; On PTV. Possibly I was the first person to sing and play the guitar there. When &lt;em&gt;Akkar Bakkar&lt;/em&gt; started, I was 21 and I had no ambition. I just wanted to be a regular, normal kind of person. Until one day, Shoaib Hashmi asked me (he used to see me in college playing the guitar and trying to impress the girls by singing film songs), “Are you going to spend your entire life doing this or are you going to try to do something else that will tax your mind a bit?” So, this is how I started. The first song I wrote for a programme was &lt;em&gt;Rawalpindi Se Aayee Rail, Naam Hay Iss Ka Khyber Mail&lt;/em&gt;. Everybody liked the song, so I got into a routine. As &lt;em&gt;Akkar Bakkar&lt;/em&gt; came on weekly, every week we would do one or two new songs. The programme ran for about four quarters, and I must have written about 50+ songs for children. Then we started &lt;em&gt;Such Gup&lt;/em&gt;, a version of &lt;em&gt;Akkar Bakkar&lt;/em&gt; for adults. The programme ended with one serious song by Nayyara Noor. That was the &lt;em&gt;Such&lt;/em&gt; element. The rest was the &lt;em&gt;Gup&lt;/em&gt;. In 1975, we started &lt;em&gt;Taal Matol.&lt;/em&gt; Shahid Toosi and I worked together on it. Well, he would do more and I would do less, but when he left, I had to do the composing. That was when I began doing serious stuff, and my friends and my team started taking me seriously.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why did you join EMI?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; I have to make a confession. In those days, like most youngsters, I was of the mind that I had to choose a field and have a proper job, and that music was not a field, just a pastime. So I joined Prestige Communications as an account executive. Then Mansoor Bokhari, the Managing Director of EMI offered me a job as sales manager. At the time I thought, “I’ve done it!” So I joined EMI and stayed with them for 17 years. Then in 1993 I realised it was all a waste of time, that I should have been more serious about my music. I resigned in 1993 and started doing music and music alone.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Wasn’t that a big risk?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes. I usually don’t consult my family about anything. This time I did. I talked to my children and told them things would be harder. When you work in the corporate sector, you get all sorts of perks and benefits, and you get used to that. But I was lucky. What sustained me throughout those years was the advertising world.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What were the campaigns you worked on?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; I still remember fondly how I xeroxed Boney M’s songs for a construction company because the owner loved Boney M. He
thought there couldn’t be any music better than that. So I did a lot of Boney M work and made commercials out of those songs. When Candyland was introduced, it had a kind of style, which it still retains, and I still enjoy listening to the soundtrack of those commercials. The last piece of commercial music I enjoyed doing was with Orient McCann Lahore, where we worked out the musical logo for Nestlé Milkpak &lt;em&gt;Khalis hee sab kutch hay&lt;/em&gt;. Although I must say that most of my good stuff has been projected, in my view the musical aspect in our commercials isn’t well thought out.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; Music is a medium of expression. Music is my medium; I express myself through my music. You can make any statement through music, provided you know the craft. It’s just like copywriters who can develop great lines because they know how to get to them. There are important ideas expressed so badly they have no effect, and then there are frivolous ideas that, when well expressed, have communicative quality. They touch your mind or your heart. Music has the same kind of power, but we don’t use its power. For instance, there was a commercial for a toaster where the toast pops out. You can actually create music for that, but because that wasn’t the case, the visual was bland. It’s one of many examples of commercials where the visual is well thought out, but the soundtrack isn’t. Once I was working with an advertising agency on a campaign that was liked by the client. Then, one of those global tie-ups took place with a foreign advertising agency, and the account shifted to another agency. The new agency felt they had to produce their own work, rather than use the previous agency’s, so the work I did was lost. It’s a frivolous reason but this is how it works. Now with multinational affiliations, the themes are developed elsewhere and you just have to make a kind of Pakistani version of it. They will adapt the visuals, but most of the time they will use a music track developed elsewhere.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you feel that clients give music its due or do they tend to underrate it?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; The power of music as a medium of communication has been, by and large, ignored. Sahira Kazmi and Schahzad Khalil are two directors I’ve worked with very closely, and I’ve enjoyed doing it. The same goes for Hameed Haroon. They make a kind of a musical image in their mind, and if I can’t get to that, then I don’t know my craft. Unfortunately, it is a collaborative art. We have to work together like a well-oiled machine. When this happens, then you come up with something really good. Take the recent &lt;em&gt;Dawn&lt;/em&gt; commercial for example. We had a long discussion about how the longer version of the track should end. As it ended on a very high note, Hameed wanted to change it. I said “don’t”. That is the surprise element because you are expecting something to happen and it doesn’t. We had a long discussion, but I stuck to my guns. But then there were certain suggestions he made, which I thought were very good. It’s a collaborative art. Everyone has to believe in each other and trust each other’s judgement. Many composers prefer to say, “Okay, thank you, goodbye. I’ve got the brief; see you tomorrow.” I love having people around me when I am composing and I never discourage suggestions because, you see, nobody can steal my glory. Only I can accept what I feel is right, and if I feel it’s not, I try and convince the person who has made the suggestion that it isn’t right. It’s not a question of trying to lead but of the whole team thinking and developing something together.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you find your commercial work satisfying?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; I’ll tell you what. When you say that &lt;em&gt;Khalis hee sab kutch hay,&lt;/em&gt; it is a line that has a totally different kind of a feel. You see, you are driven by a thought, which may or may not be expressed in words. For instance, if you want people to dance to your music, then you try and do things that will make them dance. But when you are trying to make a serious statement, the music for that must have a totally different kind of feel. I don’t find that my commercial work clashes in any way with my more serious work because the thought process is there in both. What I do is to try to illustrate the feelings in my music, whatever the feeling is. So if it is &lt;em&gt;Khalis hee sab kutch hay&lt;/em&gt; then I try and bring that out, and if it is serious poetry then I try and do that.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What needs to be done to encourage a better quality of music in
commercials?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t know how to convince people to do this. I have tried to convince people in the industry to increase their rates, because if you’re paying Rs 10,000 for a soundtrack, that reflects how much importance you attach to it. If the client is paying Rs 100,000, then the people working on the project will make sure that the end result is the right thing for the commercial. Unfortunately, advertising in Pakistan is not a quality-driven market. It is a price-driven market. Anything that is cheap will sell more than quality. In my days at EMI, pirated cassettes were cheaper than the ones we produced because ours were of a better quality. We imported the tape and took extra care in the quality. Yet, people would buy the cheaper cassettes; they didn’t mind if the sound quality was not that good. This attitude basically pervades the overall market. Multinational and corporate executives may be very pompous about what they are doing, but at the end of the day, they may settle for the cheapest thing available, which does not really reflect very well on them, but unfortunately it’s like that.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What training do young musicians get?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; Many youngsters ask me about how to go about becoming good musicians. The most important thing is to have an aptitude for music, and that doesn’t come easily. It’s rare to have that kind of talent, where one can really become something. Yet, musical aptitude alone will not ensure that you will be a great musician, because in our field one has to be the best; there’s no place for second best. I’ll give you an example of a friend of mine. He’s an excellent singer, but because Mehdi Hasan was there, there was hardly any place left for him. It’s like applying to join the air force. You’re sent to Risalpur for training. After six months you receive a letter saying you don’t have a flying aptitude and you are sent home. In spite of this, there are probably about 500 pilots in this country who can fly an F16. But there is only one Mehdi Hasan. Young musicians need to be told that they have to do it for the joy of it, initially. I’m not trying to scare them, but this is how it is. One needs to have more people in this field, from where outstanding musicians may emerge. But the training system we have has not worked really.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What exactly is the system?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; The &lt;em&gt;ustaad&lt;/em&gt;. There are many people I know, at least in Karachi, who are getting formal training in music, but nothing is happening. Not many musicians have come up because talent has to be identified at a very young age, at the school level, so that the child can be placed in the right environment. When I was young, I didn’t think of music as a career to be pursued. It was only after 17 years of wasting my time at EMI in marketing that I realised I had to make music. We have to somehow elevate this field. Music is a segment of the liberal arts, but painters are not looked down upon as much as musicians are because of the two schools, the NCA (National College of Arts) and the Indus Valley School of Art &amp;amp; Architecture (IVA). Parents are proud when their child gains admission to the NCA. More and more people are going into graphic design or painting or sculpture or architecture, because these fields have been elevated. Unfortunately, in our country, music has not been elevated.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Has PTV played a role in trying to elevate music?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; PTV could do a lot but it has fallen flat on its face. PTV has not been able to encourage new talent. Although you see new faces, not all of them deserve to be there.&lt;br /&gt;
There is only one reason why an artist will go to PTV. To become popular because his or her face will be seen. The ones who are already popular want to go further, but PTV doesn’t give them that opportunity. After a while, they’re ignored. For instance, if you’re a &lt;em&gt;ghazal&lt;/em&gt; singer, well, that’s the end of it. There’s no room for development, and you don’t even get to see too many &lt;em&gt;ghazals&lt;/em&gt; on PTV. You don’t see Alamgir anymore. PTV created Alamgir and others like him. Mohammed Ali Shehki, the Benjamin Sisters, Humaira Channa. All were created by PTV. But after PTV has created you, it ignores you; it doesn’t follow or go along with you for the longer distance. Now, there are newcomers entering, but once they become popular, PTV will ignore them, and this has continued to be the practice over the years.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Unless you’re an Iqbal Bano or Farida Khanum?&lt;br /&gt;
AM:&lt;/strong&gt; That’s precisely it. Iqbal Bano, Mehdi Hasan and Ghulam Ali were artists long before television came along. They were there because of a totally different discipline. Now what was the system that produced these people, and what is the system that has not produced even a single person of the same calibre? There has to be something wrong somewhere. Certainly, the main body of the music-listening public is teenagers. But this doesn’t mean that a person who is 30 has stopped listening to music. One has to think of those segments, which I wouldn’t call small because that segment is huge in its own right, but yes, it’s not as big as the teenage market. It seems PTV has stopped thinking about that segment, yet these are the people that will rush for tickets to an Iqbal Bano concert, which means there is a market and an audience out there.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Interview conducted by Reema Abbasi.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><em>First published in <em>Aurora’s</em> May-June 2001 edition.</em></p>
<p><strong>AURORA: How did your music career begin?<br />
Arshad Mahmud:</strong> On PTV. Possibly I was the first person to sing and play the guitar there. When <em>Akkar Bakkar</em> started, I was 21 and I had no ambition. I just wanted to be a regular, normal kind of person. Until one day, Shoaib Hashmi asked me (he used to see me in college playing the guitar and trying to impress the girls by singing film songs), “Are you going to spend your entire life doing this or are you going to try to do something else that will tax your mind a bit?” So, this is how I started. The first song I wrote for a programme was <em>Rawalpindi Se Aayee Rail, Naam Hay Iss Ka Khyber Mail</em>. Everybody liked the song, so I got into a routine. As <em>Akkar Bakkar</em> came on weekly, every week we would do one or two new songs. The programme ran for about four quarters, and I must have written about 50+ songs for children. Then we started <em>Such Gup</em>, a version of <em>Akkar Bakkar</em> for adults. The programme ended with one serious song by Nayyara Noor. That was the <em>Such</em> element. The rest was the <em>Gup</em>. In 1975, we started <em>Taal Matol.</em> Shahid Toosi and I worked together on it. Well, he would do more and I would do less, but when he left, I had to do the composing. That was when I began doing serious stuff, and my friends and my team started taking me seriously.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why did you join EMI?<br />
AM:</strong> I have to make a confession. In those days, like most youngsters, I was of the mind that I had to choose a field and have a proper job, and that music was not a field, just a pastime. So I joined Prestige Communications as an account executive. Then Mansoor Bokhari, the Managing Director of EMI offered me a job as sales manager. At the time I thought, “I’ve done it!” So I joined EMI and stayed with them for 17 years. Then in 1993 I realised it was all a waste of time, that I should have been more serious about my music. I resigned in 1993 and started doing music and music alone.</p>
<p><strong>A: Wasn’t that a big risk?<br />
AM:</strong> Yes. I usually don’t consult my family about anything. This time I did. I talked to my children and told them things would be harder. When you work in the corporate sector, you get all sorts of perks and benefits, and you get used to that. But I was lucky. What sustained me throughout those years was the advertising world.</p>
<p><strong>A: What were the campaigns you worked on?</strong><br />
<strong>AM:</strong> I still remember fondly how I xeroxed Boney M’s songs for a construction company because the owner loved Boney M. He
thought there couldn’t be any music better than that. So I did a lot of Boney M work and made commercials out of those songs. When Candyland was introduced, it had a kind of style, which it still retains, and I still enjoy listening to the soundtrack of those commercials. The last piece of commercial music I enjoyed doing was with Orient McCann Lahore, where we worked out the musical logo for Nestlé Milkpak <em>Khalis hee sab kutch hay</em>. Although I must say that most of my good stuff has been projected, in my view the musical aspect in our commercials isn’t well thought out.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why?<br />
AM:</strong> Music is a medium of expression. Music is my medium; I express myself through my music. You can make any statement through music, provided you know the craft. It’s just like copywriters who can develop great lines because they know how to get to them. There are important ideas expressed so badly they have no effect, and then there are frivolous ideas that, when well expressed, have communicative quality. They touch your mind or your heart. Music has the same kind of power, but we don’t use its power. For instance, there was a commercial for a toaster where the toast pops out. You can actually create music for that, but because that wasn’t the case, the visual was bland. It’s one of many examples of commercials where the visual is well thought out, but the soundtrack isn’t. Once I was working with an advertising agency on a campaign that was liked by the client. Then, one of those global tie-ups took place with a foreign advertising agency, and the account shifted to another agency. The new agency felt they had to produce their own work, rather than use the previous agency’s, so the work I did was lost. It’s a frivolous reason but this is how it works. Now with multinational affiliations, the themes are developed elsewhere and you just have to make a kind of Pakistani version of it. They will adapt the visuals, but most of the time they will use a music track developed elsewhere.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you feel that clients give music its due or do they tend to underrate it?<br />
AM:</strong> The power of music as a medium of communication has been, by and large, ignored. Sahira Kazmi and Schahzad Khalil are two directors I’ve worked with very closely, and I’ve enjoyed doing it. The same goes for Hameed Haroon. They make a kind of a musical image in their mind, and if I can’t get to that, then I don’t know my craft. Unfortunately, it is a collaborative art. We have to work together like a well-oiled machine. When this happens, then you come up with something really good. Take the recent <em>Dawn</em> commercial for example. We had a long discussion about how the longer version of the track should end. As it ended on a very high note, Hameed wanted to change it. I said “don’t”. That is the surprise element because you are expecting something to happen and it doesn’t. We had a long discussion, but I stuck to my guns. But then there were certain suggestions he made, which I thought were very good. It’s a collaborative art. Everyone has to believe in each other and trust each other’s judgement. Many composers prefer to say, “Okay, thank you, goodbye. I’ve got the brief; see you tomorrow.” I love having people around me when I am composing and I never discourage suggestions because, you see, nobody can steal my glory. Only I can accept what I feel is right, and if I feel it’s not, I try and convince the person who has made the suggestion that it isn’t right. It’s not a question of trying to lead but of the whole team thinking and developing something together.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you find your commercial work satisfying?<br />
AM:</strong> I’ll tell you what. When you say that <em>Khalis hee sab kutch hay,</em> it is a line that has a totally different kind of a feel. You see, you are driven by a thought, which may or may not be expressed in words. For instance, if you want people to dance to your music, then you try and do things that will make them dance. But when you are trying to make a serious statement, the music for that must have a totally different kind of feel. I don’t find that my commercial work clashes in any way with my more serious work because the thought process is there in both. What I do is to try to illustrate the feelings in my music, whatever the feeling is. So if it is <em>Khalis hee sab kutch hay</em> then I try and bring that out, and if it is serious poetry then I try and do that.</p>
<p><strong>A: What needs to be done to encourage a better quality of music in
commercials?<br />
AM:</strong> I don’t know how to convince people to do this. I have tried to convince people in the industry to increase their rates, because if you’re paying Rs 10,000 for a soundtrack, that reflects how much importance you attach to it. If the client is paying Rs 100,000, then the people working on the project will make sure that the end result is the right thing for the commercial. Unfortunately, advertising in Pakistan is not a quality-driven market. It is a price-driven market. Anything that is cheap will sell more than quality. In my days at EMI, pirated cassettes were cheaper than the ones we produced because ours were of a better quality. We imported the tape and took extra care in the quality. Yet, people would buy the cheaper cassettes; they didn’t mind if the sound quality was not that good. This attitude basically pervades the overall market. Multinational and corporate executives may be very pompous about what they are doing, but at the end of the day, they may settle for the cheapest thing available, which does not really reflect very well on them, but unfortunately it’s like that.</p>
<p><strong>A: What training do young musicians get?<br />
AM:</strong> Many youngsters ask me about how to go about becoming good musicians. The most important thing is to have an aptitude for music, and that doesn’t come easily. It’s rare to have that kind of talent, where one can really become something. Yet, musical aptitude alone will not ensure that you will be a great musician, because in our field one has to be the best; there’s no place for second best. I’ll give you an example of a friend of mine. He’s an excellent singer, but because Mehdi Hasan was there, there was hardly any place left for him. It’s like applying to join the air force. You’re sent to Risalpur for training. After six months you receive a letter saying you don’t have a flying aptitude and you are sent home. In spite of this, there are probably about 500 pilots in this country who can fly an F16. But there is only one Mehdi Hasan. Young musicians need to be told that they have to do it for the joy of it, initially. I’m not trying to scare them, but this is how it is. One needs to have more people in this field, from where outstanding musicians may emerge. But the training system we have has not worked really.</p>
<p><strong>A: What exactly is the system?<br />
AM:</strong> The <em>ustaad</em>. There are many people I know, at least in Karachi, who are getting formal training in music, but nothing is happening. Not many musicians have come up because talent has to be identified at a very young age, at the school level, so that the child can be placed in the right environment. When I was young, I didn’t think of music as a career to be pursued. It was only after 17 years of wasting my time at EMI in marketing that I realised I had to make music. We have to somehow elevate this field. Music is a segment of the liberal arts, but painters are not looked down upon as much as musicians are because of the two schools, the NCA (National College of Arts) and the Indus Valley School of Art &amp; Architecture (IVA). Parents are proud when their child gains admission to the NCA. More and more people are going into graphic design or painting or sculpture or architecture, because these fields have been elevated. Unfortunately, in our country, music has not been elevated.</p>
<p><strong>A: Has PTV played a role in trying to elevate music?<br />
AM:</strong> PTV could do a lot but it has fallen flat on its face. PTV has not been able to encourage new talent. Although you see new faces, not all of them deserve to be there.<br />
There is only one reason why an artist will go to PTV. To become popular because his or her face will be seen. The ones who are already popular want to go further, but PTV doesn’t give them that opportunity. After a while, they’re ignored. For instance, if you’re a <em>ghazal</em> singer, well, that’s the end of it. There’s no room for development, and you don’t even get to see too many <em>ghazals</em> on PTV. You don’t see Alamgir anymore. PTV created Alamgir and others like him. Mohammed Ali Shehki, the Benjamin Sisters, Humaira Channa. All were created by PTV. But after PTV has created you, it ignores you; it doesn’t follow or go along with you for the longer distance. Now, there are newcomers entering, but once they become popular, PTV will ignore them, and this has continued to be the practice over the years.</p>
<p><strong>A: Unless you’re an Iqbal Bano or Farida Khanum?<br />
AM:</strong> That’s precisely it. Iqbal Bano, Mehdi Hasan and Ghulam Ali were artists long before television came along. They were there because of a totally different discipline. Now what was the system that produced these people, and what is the system that has not produced even a single person of the same calibre? There has to be something wrong somewhere. Certainly, the main body of the music-listening public is teenagers. But this doesn’t mean that a person who is 30 has stopped listening to music. One has to think of those segments, which I wouldn’t call small because that segment is huge in its own right, but yes, it’s not as big as the teenage market. It seems PTV has stopped thinking about that segment, yet these are the people that will rush for tickets to an Iqbal Bano concert, which means there is a market and an audience out there.</p>
<p><em>Interview conducted by Reema Abbasi.</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145558</guid>
      <pubDate>Tue, 22 Jul 2025 12:20:26 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com ()</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/07/21135151e467491.jpg?r=135239" type="image/jpeg" medium="image" height="534" width="800">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/07/21135151e467491.jpg?r=135239"/>
        <media:title/>
      </media:content>
    </item>
    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>The Man From San Francisco</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145545/the-man-from-san-francisco</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;First published in &lt;em&gt;Aurora’s&lt;/em&gt;  November-December 2008 edition.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I first heard of Ali Mumtaz three years before I met him. I knew him as the art director from San Francisco who occasionally wrote for *Aurora and once made my life miserable in the process because he wanted his article printed upside down and I had the unenviable task of getting his page designed by a graphic designer who wasn’t particularly thrilled at the prospect.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;His articles, however, if they could be called articles – for they were mostly cartoon strips and doodles – were entertaining not just because they were different, but because his message was quite universal, in that no matter which part of the world you work in, there will always be a clash between clients and creatives.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Apart from his articles, Mumtaz was the subject of a great deal of discussion among my colleagues and I. Here was a Pakistani who was working as an art director in a world-renowned advertising agency, Y&amp;amp;R, and we were impressed, if a tad curious, about his achievements.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Suffice to say that at least in a limited sense, Mumtaz’s reputation preceded him. I had this image of him in my mind as an elegant older man, possibly in his forties with greying hair at his temples. My excuse for this entirely misconceived notion was the rationale that he had to be an older guy given his position at Y&amp;amp;R.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Thus, when Mumtaz walked into the &lt;em&gt;Aurora&lt;/em&gt; office one morning earlier this year, I was in for a surprise. For starters, he turned out to be quite young – late twenties or early thirties; quite good-looking – in a fair-skinned, dark-haired sort of way; with an interesting tattoo on the inside of his forearm and no grey hair in sight!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Mumtaz’s greatest advantage stems from the fact that he realised what he wanted to do early on in life. His father worked in the marketing department of PIA and would bring home ads that had been done by the creative agency, which at that time was IAL.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Mumtaz was interested in what he saw and wound up doing an internship at IAL working with big names such as Naseer Haider, Faraz Maqsood Hamidi, Cyma Zulfiqar Saeed and Sarmad Ali.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;His experience at IAL, he recalls, was a mix of proofreading, running for cups of tea and just hanging around to see how advertising was created and executed. His first break came on a rat killer product when he made some “absolutely horrible sketches, but Faraz [Maqsood Hamidi] saw the potential in them and incorporated some elements into the print ad.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In this way, Mumtaz worked on and off for IAL for three years in the early nineties, until he decided to study communication design at the Indus Valley School of Art &amp;amp; Architecture.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The course fell far short of his expectations because art direction was equated with graphic design, and he says that the former is about so much more than just graphics. With this in mind, he applied to a few schools in San Francisco and eventually decided on the up-and-coming Academy of Art.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After completing his degree, his first job was with an agency in SF called Ozone, which believed in ethical advertising. The agency closed down soon afterwards and Mumtaz moved on to another agency which specialised in high-tech advertising and paid him lots of money to do “absolutely sh** work”.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Six months into the job, he started looking elsewhere and finally landed at Y&amp;amp;R as a junior designer.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As he rose through the ranks at Y&amp;amp;R, from junior designer to art director, Mumtaz worked on several accounts, including Chevron Aviation, Dr Pepper, McAfee, Palm and Seven Up, but remembers Adobe and Hitachi with special fondness.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The challenge with Hitachi, he says, was to stand out in a sector where all the other players were running 300-word ads. The idea was to play with a visual that was so simple that everyone could understand it. Fortunately, the marketing team at Hitachi was quite gung ho about the idea and kept running the ads, much to the benefit of their sales graph.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;With Adobe, the challenge was even more difficult: to do interesting advertising for a product that was being used by creatives all across the world but didn’t do great ads for itself. The solution was a series of cryptic ads (when Adobe went on the web in 1999), which Mumtaz says was a lot of fun.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Another ‘fun’ account was MGM, but “that was mainly because of the regular trips to Las Vegas.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;But work, or at least commercial work, is not the only thing that occupies Mumtaz’s time. A strong believer in giving back, he has done his fair share of pro bono work, which, quite apart from the high it gives him, is also good when “you want to do something very creative and groundbreaking, and you just can’t sell it to a paying client.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;His pro bono strategy has certainly paid off, and his most memorable ad is one he did for JBL with Amean J., which earned him a Clio and appeared in &lt;em&gt;CommArt&lt;/em&gt; magazine.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“It was a really simple ad, a bloody Q-tip, but it appeared in &lt;em&gt;CommArt&lt;/em&gt;, which is huge, because they narrowed it down to a few hundred from over 30,000 entries.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Another way of giving back is via teaching new creatives and Mumtaz is part of the faculty at the Academy of Art in San Francisco.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Talking about his teaching experience, he says it is “really satisfying because you get to keep in touch with what young people are doing. As much as advertising needs experience, it is also a young person’s business because that is where the crazy ideas come from.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;And whether he likes it or not, advertising is a way of life for Mumtaz – his wife works as an account manager at Goodby Silverstein and Partners, so the creative versus client management debate rages on at home.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Outside advertising – in the very little time he has spare – Mumtaz enjoys playing cricket with a multicultural team of Indians, Pakistanis, South Africans and Thais.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;My interview with Mumtaz ends with some discussion about his future – he has no idea what it holds because everything in advertising is changing, “especially the TV spot. The big thing is how you convince someone to like your ad so much that they will pass it on to 50 other people” – and about his tattoo.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I have a lorem ipsum tattoo – it is dummy text, and it is used until something better comes along, which is what I am waiting for.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Six months after my interview with Mumtaz, I am told that he has left Y&amp;amp;R and is currently working as a freelance art and creative director. Although he responds to my email and insists we meet up when he is in Karachi next, he neatly sidesteps queries about his reason for leaving the agency.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Is he planning to continue in the freelance vein? Is he going to move to another agency? Is his profile picture on Facebook, half submerged in water with a scuba diving mask, indicative of the fact that he is unwilling to reveal more than is necessary? Many are the questions I still wish to ask the man from San Francisco.&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>First published in <em>Aurora’s</em>  November-December 2008 edition.</strong></p>
<p>I first heard of Ali Mumtaz three years before I met him. I knew him as the art director from San Francisco who occasionally wrote for *Aurora and once made my life miserable in the process because he wanted his article printed upside down and I had the unenviable task of getting his page designed by a graphic designer who wasn’t particularly thrilled at the prospect.</p>
<p>His articles, however, if they could be called articles – for they were mostly cartoon strips and doodles – were entertaining not just because they were different, but because his message was quite universal, in that no matter which part of the world you work in, there will always be a clash between clients and creatives.</p>
<p>Apart from his articles, Mumtaz was the subject of a great deal of discussion among my colleagues and I. Here was a Pakistani who was working as an art director in a world-renowned advertising agency, Y&amp;R, and we were impressed, if a tad curious, about his achievements.</p>
<p>Suffice to say that at least in a limited sense, Mumtaz’s reputation preceded him. I had this image of him in my mind as an elegant older man, possibly in his forties with greying hair at his temples. My excuse for this entirely misconceived notion was the rationale that he had to be an older guy given his position at Y&amp;R.</p>
<p>Thus, when Mumtaz walked into the <em>Aurora</em> office one morning earlier this year, I was in for a surprise. For starters, he turned out to be quite young – late twenties or early thirties; quite good-looking – in a fair-skinned, dark-haired sort of way; with an interesting tattoo on the inside of his forearm and no grey hair in sight!</p>
<p>Mumtaz’s greatest advantage stems from the fact that he realised what he wanted to do early on in life. His father worked in the marketing department of PIA and would bring home ads that had been done by the creative agency, which at that time was IAL.</p>
<p>Mumtaz was interested in what he saw and wound up doing an internship at IAL working with big names such as Naseer Haider, Faraz Maqsood Hamidi, Cyma Zulfiqar Saeed and Sarmad Ali.</p>
<p>His experience at IAL, he recalls, was a mix of proofreading, running for cups of tea and just hanging around to see how advertising was created and executed. His first break came on a rat killer product when he made some “absolutely horrible sketches, but Faraz [Maqsood Hamidi] saw the potential in them and incorporated some elements into the print ad.”</p>
<p>In this way, Mumtaz worked on and off for IAL for three years in the early nineties, until he decided to study communication design at the Indus Valley School of Art &amp; Architecture.</p>
<p>The course fell far short of his expectations because art direction was equated with graphic design, and he says that the former is about so much more than just graphics. With this in mind, he applied to a few schools in San Francisco and eventually decided on the up-and-coming Academy of Art.</p>
<p>After completing his degree, his first job was with an agency in SF called Ozone, which believed in ethical advertising. The agency closed down soon afterwards and Mumtaz moved on to another agency which specialised in high-tech advertising and paid him lots of money to do “absolutely sh** work”.</p>
<p>Six months into the job, he started looking elsewhere and finally landed at Y&amp;R as a junior designer.</p>
<p>As he rose through the ranks at Y&amp;R, from junior designer to art director, Mumtaz worked on several accounts, including Chevron Aviation, Dr Pepper, McAfee, Palm and Seven Up, but remembers Adobe and Hitachi with special fondness.</p>
<p>The challenge with Hitachi, he says, was to stand out in a sector where all the other players were running 300-word ads. The idea was to play with a visual that was so simple that everyone could understand it. Fortunately, the marketing team at Hitachi was quite gung ho about the idea and kept running the ads, much to the benefit of their sales graph.</p>
<p>With Adobe, the challenge was even more difficult: to do interesting advertising for a product that was being used by creatives all across the world but didn’t do great ads for itself. The solution was a series of cryptic ads (when Adobe went on the web in 1999), which Mumtaz says was a lot of fun.</p>
<p>Another ‘fun’ account was MGM, but “that was mainly because of the regular trips to Las Vegas.”</p>
<p>But work, or at least commercial work, is not the only thing that occupies Mumtaz’s time. A strong believer in giving back, he has done his fair share of pro bono work, which, quite apart from the high it gives him, is also good when “you want to do something very creative and groundbreaking, and you just can’t sell it to a paying client.”</p>
<p>His pro bono strategy has certainly paid off, and his most memorable ad is one he did for JBL with Amean J., which earned him a Clio and appeared in <em>CommArt</em> magazine.</p>
<p>“It was a really simple ad, a bloody Q-tip, but it appeared in <em>CommArt</em>, which is huge, because they narrowed it down to a few hundred from over 30,000 entries.”</p>
<p>Another way of giving back is via teaching new creatives and Mumtaz is part of the faculty at the Academy of Art in San Francisco.</p>
<p>Talking about his teaching experience, he says it is “really satisfying because you get to keep in touch with what young people are doing. As much as advertising needs experience, it is also a young person’s business because that is where the crazy ideas come from.”</p>
<p>And whether he likes it or not, advertising is a way of life for Mumtaz – his wife works as an account manager at Goodby Silverstein and Partners, so the creative versus client management debate rages on at home.</p>
<p>Outside advertising – in the very little time he has spare – Mumtaz enjoys playing cricket with a multicultural team of Indians, Pakistanis, South Africans and Thais.</p>
<p>My interview with Mumtaz ends with some discussion about his future – he has no idea what it holds because everything in advertising is changing, “especially the TV spot. The big thing is how you convince someone to like your ad so much that they will pass it on to 50 other people” – and about his tattoo.</p>
<p>“I have a lorem ipsum tattoo – it is dummy text, and it is used until something better comes along, which is what I am waiting for.”</p>
<p>Six months after my interview with Mumtaz, I am told that he has left Y&amp;R and is currently working as a freelance art and creative director. Although he responds to my email and insists we meet up when he is in Karachi next, he neatly sidesteps queries about his reason for leaving the agency.</p>
<p>Is he planning to continue in the freelance vein? Is he going to move to another agency? Is his profile picture on Facebook, half submerged in water with a scuba diving mask, indicative of the fact that he is unwilling to reveal more than is necessary? Many are the questions I still wish to ask the man from San Francisco.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145545</guid>
      <pubDate>Tue, 22 Jul 2025 12:23:28 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com ()</author>
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      <title>Grounded in Creativity</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145544/grounded-in-creativity</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;First published in &lt;em&gt;Aurora’s&lt;/em&gt; September-October 2001 edition.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AURORA: What led you into advertising?&lt;br /&gt;
Zohra Yusuf:&lt;/strong&gt; I was always interested in writing. I came to Karachi after my graduation, and at the time the city was new to me. A friend who was in advertising suggested I apply to a few agencies, the ones which were then known for the quality of their work, and she particularly recommended MNJ. So I applied to MNJ as well as to a couple of other agencies and Javed Jabbar called me for an interview… And after that, I guess I was hooked.  I joined as a copywriter trainee; I later became creative manager and then client service manager. I spent 10 years there before I thought I’d had enough of advertising and went into journalism by joining the Dawn Group of Newspapers.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How did you find journalism?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; Actually I was appointed editor of the &lt;em&gt;Weekend Star&lt;/em&gt;, and at that time it was in total conflict with what I would have liked to see in a newspaper or even in a magazine section of a newspaper. They were basically printing poster-sized pictures of film stars. I didn’t think I would last as I was told to just ‘carry on’ with the same policy and the same kind of look because apparently it sold. It took me about three months to make the transition and eventually change it around. I joined in June 1981, and in January 1982 direct censorship was replaced with a system of ‘press advice’. For example, ‘advice’ would be given regarding not publishing a particular story or item. We were also supposed to exercise self-censorship. If you thought that a particular column or reference would not go down well with the military government, then you were expected to delete it. What happened after direct censorship was lifted was that we were able to bring in more writers and better-known journalists and turn the &lt;em&gt;Star&lt;/em&gt; into a more political newspaper with political comment, etc. However, all time we were treading a very fine line between what would be acceptable and what would not be. In those days, the &lt;em&gt;Weekend Star&lt;/em&gt; was distributed with &lt;em&gt;Dawn&lt;/em&gt; up north, and many bureaucrats in Islamabad thought that it was a part of &lt;em&gt;Dawn&lt;/em&gt;, so &lt;em&gt;Dawn&lt;/em&gt; would often get into trouble because of what the &lt;em&gt;Star&lt;/em&gt; was publishing. But then the information minister or the information secretary or other members of the Cabinet would often show the &lt;em&gt;Star&lt;/em&gt; to foreign journalists, pointing out that “you say that there’s no freedom of the press but look at what is being published.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What made you go back to advertising?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; Well, after the first six months or so I did begin to enjoy journalism but then there were different kinds of pressures. I think I ultimately felt I couldn’t cope with self-censorship. It’s alright when there’s somebody outside censoring you, but when you have to censor your writers yourself, either through internal or external pressures, I found that very hard, so I decided to go back to advertising.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Coming to advertising, as a creative director what does the word ‘creative’ mean to you in an advertising context?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; In an advertising context it will always be limited because it is determined by the marketing brief. Creativity in this context is dependent on the ground realities, like what is the competition; what are the sales targets; what are the attributes of the product; and who the target consumer is. The challenge is to be creative and original within those parameters. I think that’s the exciting part of advertising: to be noticed in a very competitive environment and meet the needs of the product and the client.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What do you think of the trend in Pakistan whereby very often it is the client who dictates the creative approach to a campaign?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; There are two things here. Obviously there is a client brief, and sometimes suggestions also come from the client. First of all, we do have to meet their marketing brief. You can’t create something in a vacuum, come up with something creative and say this is great. So while keeping that in mind, at Spectrum we encourage our creative people to do something original. It may not have everything that the client wants but at least the agency is in a position to present the client with another option, and sometimes the client goes with it. Secondly, not all clients dictate to the agency. I think this happens more with larger accounts or when there are global campaigns. But yes, at times there are clients that impose their ideas, and unfortunately, at the end of the day, because we’re a business, we can’t say we won’t do it.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How much pressure does the client service department put on the creative director to fall in line with the brief that comes from the client?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; At Spectrum, none. Here the emphasis is tilted in favour of the creative department. However, by and large, I think the balance tends to be tilted towards appeasing the account managers because they are the ones who are bringing in the business.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you think this is a good thing?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t think so. I think creative people need the space to think, develop and create without being pressurised. But from the account management perspective, it’s easier to find out exactly what the client wants because then it will be easier to sell the campaign to the client. However, in the long run, clients will begin to wonder why they have an advertising agency if the agency is just producing exactly what they tell them to. Clients begin to feel that this being the case why don’t they simply hire their own designers and supervise them themselves. So, at the end of the day, by always doing exactly what the client says, the clients themselves begin to feel there is no value coming from the relationship with the agency.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Is there much competition among the creative directors of different agencies in terms of the quality of the work they are producing?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; We obviously look at which agency is producing what and how creative or not so creative they are, but I don’t think there is a sense of competition that there are creative parameters or standards that anyone feels they should meet. Each agency wants to do something that is different and original, but I don’t think they are inspired or challenged by what another creative director has done. Here, the tendency is more to be inspired by what’s being done outside. In the seventies and eighties our inspiration was the West and agencies tended to use a lot of foreign models. Most of the commercials were made in English, and the settings were geared to an upmarket and Westernised feel. Now we seem to be getting more Indianised, and commercials seem to be following the trend of Indian commercials. They’re bringing in humour and characters that are not necessarily glamorous but more down to earth.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Generally, do you think Pakistani agencies are creative?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; No, I don’t, but I think that’s a criticism that can’t be restricted to the advertising agencies only. In terms of the visual arts, apart from painting, where you see some original thoughts and ideas, we tend to be followers, whether it’s television, cinema or advertising. We were following the West at one time, and now we seem to be following India, and the same applies to television programmes and stage shows. I think it’s a lack of motivation, of competition, and of recognition. Unlike their counterparts in India, most creative people in advertising in Pakistan are not bothered even when they get a PTV or a PAA award.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; Because they suspect the whole system of judging. The way the system is structured is very antiquated. For example, APNS has the same old categories, like best copy, best visual, best black and white ad, and best colour ad. In most other countries, they go by categories like household equipment and financial advertising, and then these categories are further subdivided into print, audio-visual or the overall campaign. The same applies to the PTV awards. They have categories like the best 60-second jingle. You can’t just judge a commercial and decide that the soundtrack deserves an award but not the entire commercial. The whole process needs to be better integrated.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What do you think of the new generation of ad people?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; They certainly like to experiment more; they’re certainly more open to ideas, but I think they lack direction. If there was a good training institute, perhaps you’d get better results, although the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture is producing a fairly good crop of people. But again, I think even their curriculum needs to be improved so that the students are better fitted to the needs of the market. I feel they work too much in a vacuum and it’s good in a way that they are able to develop their creative abilities but it has to be tailored to more fully meet the demands of the market.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Would you agree that advertising agencies don’t put in much creative effort in developing the soundtracks for their commercials?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; By and large, clients tend to go more for jingles. You often have clients who tell you, even before the concept has been developed, that they want a jingle. In general, commercial music as a thematic soundtrack is not taken seriously. There are some exceptions, like Spectrum’s commercial for Morven Gold, ‘Rhythm of Unity’ which was a fusion of the music of the four provinces. It had no commentary ; it was all based on the music and movement of the dancers and the choreography. Many years ago, MNJ shot a commercial for the &lt;em&gt;Sun&lt;/em&gt; newspaper which just showed Sohail Rana’s hands on the piano. The music was an original composition by Sohail Rana, and superimposed on the keyboard were various aspects of the &lt;em&gt;Sun’s&lt;/em&gt; coverage. The theme of the commercial was ‘The age has a rhythm and the &lt;em&gt;Sun&lt;/em&gt; has a pace.’ It was a one-minute commercial, and it was totally music-based.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What were the defining characteristics of advertising in the seventies?
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; In the early seventies, television was still an elitist medium, so most of the commercials that you saw were westernised in terms of their concepts. The models wore Western clothes and the language was mostly English. Over the years, this has changed. There is more and more Urdu in terms of language, and there is now something pretty awful; a mix of English and Urdu. What would you call it, Minglish? Again, that is something that is probably inspired by Indian television. I think in the earlier years there was more emphasis on concepts. Now, possibly because the environment is more competitive, everyone is in a hurry and there is less time to develop concepts, so conceptually we are weaker than what we were, but in terms of technology we are stronger. What we produce now is far more slick, especially print advertising, where we have certainly improved.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why is it that compared to Indian commercials, which are often irreverent and full of humour, our commercials are so very staid?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; It’s something cultural, I think. We don’t really know how to laugh at ourselves.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you think that the standard of creative work in Pakistan is compromised because most advertising agencies are run by businessmen rather than creative heads?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; Having worked there, I don’t want to keep on reverting to MNJ as an example, (although unfortunately MNJ itself was not able to sustain the creativity it achieved in the earlier years), but if you look at the history of advertising in Pakistan, one person who would stand out for creativity is Javed Jabbar. Today, perhaps it’s easier for a smaller agency to be creative. When you have giants like Lever Brothers or Philips, it’s very difficult to be creative, because a lot of their strategies are developed internationally at the corporate level. Also because of their size, they are able to dictate and it is very difficult at certain levels to resist that. I think it’s easier for smaller agencies like The D’Hamidi Partnership, for example, to do something different and provocative. It will be interesting to see if the smaller agencies will be able to sustain their creativity as they grow. Even larger agencies find it easier to develop good creative work for their smaller accounts.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Apart from Javed Jabbar, who would you say are the people that have made an impact on creativity in Pakistan?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; Mahmoud Sipra for one. He was responsible for developing the first Lyla commercials for Lawrencepur. That was in 1970-71, and Sipra featured these models wearing flared bell-bottoms, which he filmed on a train. He did a lot of trendsetting commercials and introduced a lot of different shots, wide-angle shots etc. In terms of graphics, I would say Imran Mir and Tannaz Minwalla; a lot of people are following the kind of layout and the use of typography they developed.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: And the major influences on the business or account management side?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; I would say SH Hashmi and Taher Anwar Khan.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Is the poor representation of women in the higher echelons of the profession an industry problem or a gender problem?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; I think it’s more of a gender problem. I don’t think there’s anything that’s keeping women down as such. For some reason, they haven’t either wanted to take up the challenge or haven’t been efficient enough.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: In terms of clients, who are the ones that have had a positive impact on creative advertising?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; I think as far as Spectrum is concerned, certainly Mohammad Farooque Textiles, mainly because they’ve always had this requirement that no models should be shown. Consequently, one is pushed into doing something different and their advertising stands out. If you look at the lawn commercials that came out this summer, you’ll notice that they are all very similar, and you really can’t tell one manufacturer apart from another. In the case of Mohammad Farooque, in spite of the fact that they haven’t advertised in the last few years, people still remember their commercials. In fact, the last commercial we did for them was shortlisted at the London International Advertising Awards, and it also won the Aurora Award for print in 1992. The commercial made its mark because it just hints at a woman’s presence without actually showing her. Another client would be Peek Freans. In the early seventies, Peek Freans adopted the Pied Piper, a concept introduced by MNJ, and which is now integral to their communications strategy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Any other commercials you would consider groundbreaking?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; I would say the &lt;em&gt;Sun&lt;/em&gt; commercial, which I described earlier. Apart from the fact that the client gave a lot of leeway to the agency, the &lt;em&gt;Sun&lt;/em&gt; was the first newspaper to advertise in both the electronic and print media. Morven Gold’s ‘Rhythm of Unity’ was another example because it depicted Pakistan’s culture through its folk dancers and its music without ever showing the product. We had to do this because cigarette advertising is not allowed on prime time, and the client wanted to run the commercial on national days during prime time. This commercial was also groundbreaking in that after it was released, it had a lot of imitators. Another groundbreaking commercial would be the recent one made for Standard Chartered Grindlays, which featured a grandmother riding a motorbike. That was groundbreaking, and I wish it would also be trendsetting.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why trendsetting?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; In banking there’s a lot of stereotyping, and banks don’t seem to want to show women in their advertising, They want to show them shopping, but they don’t want to address women because they believe most of their customers are men. And here, in the Standard Chartered Grindlays commercial, they show somebody totally unlike their target customer, and I thought that it communicated the proposition very well, that anyone can have a credit card, even this elderly grandmother who is driving a motorbike. The concept came through very well and I think it takes courage both on the part of the agency and the client to go ahead with something like that.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Have you ever thought of opening your own agency?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; No. Firstly, I’m not passionate about advertising. To me it’s a profession. Secondly, I’m very possessive about my personal time. I like to have a lot of time to myself reading, listening to music, and visiting friends. That means a lot to me. If you’re running your own agency, then time is really not your own.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What would you consider to have been your greatest contribution to advertising?&lt;br /&gt;
ZY:&lt;/strong&gt; What I’ve enjoyed doing is training people in creative. It doesn’t mean dictating to them, but basically giving them the freedom to grow. People who come here have very few restrictions imposed on them. They have the liberty to do what they wish to do, and even the liberty to move away totally from the client’s brief and present their own ideas. That is something I enjoy doing and in so doing, perhaps I’ve contributed something to the profession.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Interview conducted by Reema Abbasi.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>First published in <em>Aurora’s</em> September-October 2001 edition.</strong></p>
<p><strong>AURORA: What led you into advertising?<br />
Zohra Yusuf:</strong> I was always interested in writing. I came to Karachi after my graduation, and at the time the city was new to me. A friend who was in advertising suggested I apply to a few agencies, the ones which were then known for the quality of their work, and she particularly recommended MNJ. So I applied to MNJ as well as to a couple of other agencies and Javed Jabbar called me for an interview… And after that, I guess I was hooked.  I joined as a copywriter trainee; I later became creative manager and then client service manager. I spent 10 years there before I thought I’d had enough of advertising and went into journalism by joining the Dawn Group of Newspapers.</p>
<p><strong>A: How did you find journalism?<br />
ZY:</strong> Actually I was appointed editor of the <em>Weekend Star</em>, and at that time it was in total conflict with what I would have liked to see in a newspaper or even in a magazine section of a newspaper. They were basically printing poster-sized pictures of film stars. I didn’t think I would last as I was told to just ‘carry on’ with the same policy and the same kind of look because apparently it sold. It took me about three months to make the transition and eventually change it around. I joined in June 1981, and in January 1982 direct censorship was replaced with a system of ‘press advice’. For example, ‘advice’ would be given regarding not publishing a particular story or item. We were also supposed to exercise self-censorship. If you thought that a particular column or reference would not go down well with the military government, then you were expected to delete it. What happened after direct censorship was lifted was that we were able to bring in more writers and better-known journalists and turn the <em>Star</em> into a more political newspaper with political comment, etc. However, all time we were treading a very fine line between what would be acceptable and what would not be. In those days, the <em>Weekend Star</em> was distributed with <em>Dawn</em> up north, and many bureaucrats in Islamabad thought that it was a part of <em>Dawn</em>, so <em>Dawn</em> would often get into trouble because of what the <em>Star</em> was publishing. But then the information minister or the information secretary or other members of the Cabinet would often show the <em>Star</em> to foreign journalists, pointing out that “you say that there’s no freedom of the press but look at what is being published.”</p>
<p><strong>A: What made you go back to advertising?<br />
ZY:</strong> Well, after the first six months or so I did begin to enjoy journalism but then there were different kinds of pressures. I think I ultimately felt I couldn’t cope with self-censorship. It’s alright when there’s somebody outside censoring you, but when you have to censor your writers yourself, either through internal or external pressures, I found that very hard, so I decided to go back to advertising.</p>
<p><strong>A: Coming to advertising, as a creative director what does the word ‘creative’ mean to you in an advertising context?<br />
ZY:</strong> In an advertising context it will always be limited because it is determined by the marketing brief. Creativity in this context is dependent on the ground realities, like what is the competition; what are the sales targets; what are the attributes of the product; and who the target consumer is. The challenge is to be creative and original within those parameters. I think that’s the exciting part of advertising: to be noticed in a very competitive environment and meet the needs of the product and the client.</p>
<p><strong>A: What do you think of the trend in Pakistan whereby very often it is the client who dictates the creative approach to a campaign?<br />
ZY:</strong> There are two things here. Obviously there is a client brief, and sometimes suggestions also come from the client. First of all, we do have to meet their marketing brief. You can’t create something in a vacuum, come up with something creative and say this is great. So while keeping that in mind, at Spectrum we encourage our creative people to do something original. It may not have everything that the client wants but at least the agency is in a position to present the client with another option, and sometimes the client goes with it. Secondly, not all clients dictate to the agency. I think this happens more with larger accounts or when there are global campaigns. But yes, at times there are clients that impose their ideas, and unfortunately, at the end of the day, because we’re a business, we can’t say we won’t do it.</p>
<p><strong>A: How much pressure does the client service department put on the creative director to fall in line with the brief that comes from the client?<br />
ZY:</strong> At Spectrum, none. Here the emphasis is tilted in favour of the creative department. However, by and large, I think the balance tends to be tilted towards appeasing the account managers because they are the ones who are bringing in the business.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you think this is a good thing?<br />
ZY:</strong> I don’t think so. I think creative people need the space to think, develop and create without being pressurised. But from the account management perspective, it’s easier to find out exactly what the client wants because then it will be easier to sell the campaign to the client. However, in the long run, clients will begin to wonder why they have an advertising agency if the agency is just producing exactly what they tell them to. Clients begin to feel that this being the case why don’t they simply hire their own designers and supervise them themselves. So, at the end of the day, by always doing exactly what the client says, the clients themselves begin to feel there is no value coming from the relationship with the agency.</p>
<p><strong>A: Is there much competition among the creative directors of different agencies in terms of the quality of the work they are producing?<br />
ZY:</strong> We obviously look at which agency is producing what and how creative or not so creative they are, but I don’t think there is a sense of competition that there are creative parameters or standards that anyone feels they should meet. Each agency wants to do something that is different and original, but I don’t think they are inspired or challenged by what another creative director has done. Here, the tendency is more to be inspired by what’s being done outside. In the seventies and eighties our inspiration was the West and agencies tended to use a lot of foreign models. Most of the commercials were made in English, and the settings were geared to an upmarket and Westernised feel. Now we seem to be getting more Indianised, and commercials seem to be following the trend of Indian commercials. They’re bringing in humour and characters that are not necessarily glamorous but more down to earth.</p>
<p><strong>A: Generally, do you think Pakistani agencies are creative?<br />
ZY:</strong> No, I don’t, but I think that’s a criticism that can’t be restricted to the advertising agencies only. In terms of the visual arts, apart from painting, where you see some original thoughts and ideas, we tend to be followers, whether it’s television, cinema or advertising. We were following the West at one time, and now we seem to be following India, and the same applies to television programmes and stage shows. I think it’s a lack of motivation, of competition, and of recognition. Unlike their counterparts in India, most creative people in advertising in Pakistan are not bothered even when they get a PTV or a PAA award.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why?<br />
ZY:</strong> Because they suspect the whole system of judging. The way the system is structured is very antiquated. For example, APNS has the same old categories, like best copy, best visual, best black and white ad, and best colour ad. In most other countries, they go by categories like household equipment and financial advertising, and then these categories are further subdivided into print, audio-visual or the overall campaign. The same applies to the PTV awards. They have categories like the best 60-second jingle. You can’t just judge a commercial and decide that the soundtrack deserves an award but not the entire commercial. The whole process needs to be better integrated.</p>
<p><strong>A: What do you think of the new generation of ad people?<br />
ZY:</strong> They certainly like to experiment more; they’re certainly more open to ideas, but I think they lack direction. If there was a good training institute, perhaps you’d get better results, although the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture is producing a fairly good crop of people. But again, I think even their curriculum needs to be improved so that the students are better fitted to the needs of the market. I feel they work too much in a vacuum and it’s good in a way that they are able to develop their creative abilities but it has to be tailored to more fully meet the demands of the market.</p>
<p><strong>A: Would you agree that advertising agencies don’t put in much creative effort in developing the soundtracks for their commercials?<br />
ZY:</strong> By and large, clients tend to go more for jingles. You often have clients who tell you, even before the concept has been developed, that they want a jingle. In general, commercial music as a thematic soundtrack is not taken seriously. There are some exceptions, like Spectrum’s commercial for Morven Gold, ‘Rhythm of Unity’ which was a fusion of the music of the four provinces. It had no commentary ; it was all based on the music and movement of the dancers and the choreography. Many years ago, MNJ shot a commercial for the <em>Sun</em> newspaper which just showed Sohail Rana’s hands on the piano. The music was an original composition by Sohail Rana, and superimposed on the keyboard were various aspects of the <em>Sun’s</em> coverage. The theme of the commercial was ‘The age has a rhythm and the <em>Sun</em> has a pace.’ It was a one-minute commercial, and it was totally music-based.</p>
<p><strong>A: What were the defining characteristics of advertising in the seventies?
ZY:</strong> In the early seventies, television was still an elitist medium, so most of the commercials that you saw were westernised in terms of their concepts. The models wore Western clothes and the language was mostly English. Over the years, this has changed. There is more and more Urdu in terms of language, and there is now something pretty awful; a mix of English and Urdu. What would you call it, Minglish? Again, that is something that is probably inspired by Indian television. I think in the earlier years there was more emphasis on concepts. Now, possibly because the environment is more competitive, everyone is in a hurry and there is less time to develop concepts, so conceptually we are weaker than what we were, but in terms of technology we are stronger. What we produce now is far more slick, especially print advertising, where we have certainly improved.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why is it that compared to Indian commercials, which are often irreverent and full of humour, our commercials are so very staid?<br />
ZY:</strong> It’s something cultural, I think. We don’t really know how to laugh at ourselves.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you think that the standard of creative work in Pakistan is compromised because most advertising agencies are run by businessmen rather than creative heads?<br />
ZY:</strong> Having worked there, I don’t want to keep on reverting to MNJ as an example, (although unfortunately MNJ itself was not able to sustain the creativity it achieved in the earlier years), but if you look at the history of advertising in Pakistan, one person who would stand out for creativity is Javed Jabbar. Today, perhaps it’s easier for a smaller agency to be creative. When you have giants like Lever Brothers or Philips, it’s very difficult to be creative, because a lot of their strategies are developed internationally at the corporate level. Also because of their size, they are able to dictate and it is very difficult at certain levels to resist that. I think it’s easier for smaller agencies like The D’Hamidi Partnership, for example, to do something different and provocative. It will be interesting to see if the smaller agencies will be able to sustain their creativity as they grow. Even larger agencies find it easier to develop good creative work for their smaller accounts.</p>
<p><strong>A: Apart from Javed Jabbar, who would you say are the people that have made an impact on creativity in Pakistan?<br />
ZY:</strong> Mahmoud Sipra for one. He was responsible for developing the first Lyla commercials for Lawrencepur. That was in 1970-71, and Sipra featured these models wearing flared bell-bottoms, which he filmed on a train. He did a lot of trendsetting commercials and introduced a lot of different shots, wide-angle shots etc. In terms of graphics, I would say Imran Mir and Tannaz Minwalla; a lot of people are following the kind of layout and the use of typography they developed.</p>
<p><strong>A: And the major influences on the business or account management side?<br />
ZY:</strong> I would say SH Hashmi and Taher Anwar Khan.</p>
<p><strong>A: Is the poor representation of women in the higher echelons of the profession an industry problem or a gender problem?<br />
ZY:</strong> I think it’s more of a gender problem. I don’t think there’s anything that’s keeping women down as such. For some reason, they haven’t either wanted to take up the challenge or haven’t been efficient enough.</p>
<p><strong>A: In terms of clients, who are the ones that have had a positive impact on creative advertising?<br />
ZY:</strong> I think as far as Spectrum is concerned, certainly Mohammad Farooque Textiles, mainly because they’ve always had this requirement that no models should be shown. Consequently, one is pushed into doing something different and their advertising stands out. If you look at the lawn commercials that came out this summer, you’ll notice that they are all very similar, and you really can’t tell one manufacturer apart from another. In the case of Mohammad Farooque, in spite of the fact that they haven’t advertised in the last few years, people still remember their commercials. In fact, the last commercial we did for them was shortlisted at the London International Advertising Awards, and it also won the Aurora Award for print in 1992. The commercial made its mark because it just hints at a woman’s presence without actually showing her. Another client would be Peek Freans. In the early seventies, Peek Freans adopted the Pied Piper, a concept introduced by MNJ, and which is now integral to their communications strategy.</p>
<p><strong>A: Any other commercials you would consider groundbreaking?<br />
ZY:</strong> I would say the <em>Sun</em> commercial, which I described earlier. Apart from the fact that the client gave a lot of leeway to the agency, the <em>Sun</em> was the first newspaper to advertise in both the electronic and print media. Morven Gold’s ‘Rhythm of Unity’ was another example because it depicted Pakistan’s culture through its folk dancers and its music without ever showing the product. We had to do this because cigarette advertising is not allowed on prime time, and the client wanted to run the commercial on national days during prime time. This commercial was also groundbreaking in that after it was released, it had a lot of imitators. Another groundbreaking commercial would be the recent one made for Standard Chartered Grindlays, which featured a grandmother riding a motorbike. That was groundbreaking, and I wish it would also be trendsetting.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why trendsetting?<br />
ZY:</strong> In banking there’s a lot of stereotyping, and banks don’t seem to want to show women in their advertising, They want to show them shopping, but they don’t want to address women because they believe most of their customers are men. And here, in the Standard Chartered Grindlays commercial, they show somebody totally unlike their target customer, and I thought that it communicated the proposition very well, that anyone can have a credit card, even this elderly grandmother who is driving a motorbike. The concept came through very well and I think it takes courage both on the part of the agency and the client to go ahead with something like that.</p>
<p><strong>A: Have you ever thought of opening your own agency?<br />
ZY:</strong> No. Firstly, I’m not passionate about advertising. To me it’s a profession. Secondly, I’m very possessive about my personal time. I like to have a lot of time to myself reading, listening to music, and visiting friends. That means a lot to me. If you’re running your own agency, then time is really not your own.</p>
<p><strong>A: What would you consider to have been your greatest contribution to advertising?<br />
ZY:</strong> What I’ve enjoyed doing is training people in creative. It doesn’t mean dictating to them, but basically giving them the freedom to grow. People who come here have very few restrictions imposed on them. They have the liberty to do what they wish to do, and even the liberty to move away totally from the client’s brief and present their own ideas. That is something I enjoy doing and in so doing, perhaps I’ve contributed something to the profession.</p>
<p><em>Interview conducted by Reema Abbasi.</em></p>
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      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145544</guid>
      <pubDate>Tue, 22 Jul 2025 17:08:43 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com ()</author>
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      <title>“We are not a tick mark agency”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145543/we-are-not-a-tick-mark-agency</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;First published in &lt;em&gt;Aurora’s&lt;/em&gt; January-February 2005 edition.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AURORA: What brought you to advertising?&lt;br /&gt;
FARAZ MAQSOOD HAMIDI:&lt;/strong&gt; We all run into advertising. We don’t think, “Ah, advertising!” Everybody in my family is a banker, but I knew I couldn’t go to work in a suit and that I needed to find alternatives. So I did all kinds of things. I did art school; I did comparative literature at Sorbonne; I did international relations and then business administration (everybody in the eighties did business administration!). I did all that and I was &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; good, except that I was bored out of my mind. Then in 1989, while studying in Paris, I hit upon the Communication School in Boston. I went to this place called the ‘Ad Lab’, which apparently was the largest student-run agency in New England. And here was this 23-year-old supervisor who says, “If you are someone who enjoys coming up with slogans and writing, you are probably going to be a copywriter and if you enjoy doodling, maybe you’ll be an art director,” and I felt, “Yes, that’s me; that’s my career,” and everything fell into place.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: It sounds like love at first sight?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; It was and it always is. Every day. I completely inhaled advertising. It gives me an opportunity to be myself; I never thought this would be possible. I’m thankful I discovered advertising. I did a lot of odd things – literature, music, theatre – but the question was: Where do you focus your imagination? I knew it had to be something in the creative arts. And there it was, and it was an amazing discovery.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Boredom hasn’t set in yet?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; No, not at all!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What was it like coming back to Pakistan and setting up an agency?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; Here was somebody who had never been exposed to the environment in Pakistan, and invariably when you are an expat, you tend to have a rosy picture, an image of this lovely country that is a paradise. When I graduated, I was briefly at an agency called Hill Holliday, and I knew I could do this (advertising) in that environment. But I had no idea about this (Pakistan) environment; it’s a ridiculously challenging environment for all the wrong reasons. But I knew I had to go into advertising and that I would invariably do it in Pakistan because that’s where you can make a difference. If I were to do it in the States, I would just be one of 3,000 people making a very good difference, but then I wouldn’t be able to get that kick. I was 23 years old when I decided to open my own agency, and the only reason I could do that was because I ran into an individual, who is my business partner to this day (Adil Mirza), and who understood the system. So that has been a very interesting marriage of disciplines and the only reason why I can do it. I don’t know if I would be able to do it independently.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: So in a sense you have insulated yourself?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; Completely. That’s what keeps me alive, keeps me going.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How long did you live abroad?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; Twenty-two years, although I was born in Pakistan. My dad was a banker, and every winter we would come back. It was one of those things.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What was it like coming back?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; When I came back, to be honest, I thought it would be for a couple of years. Get to know the country; understand the culture. I joined IAL and I remember being put on the PIA account. It was a nice place to be because you got the huge exposure that PIA offers. When I walked into IAL, I noticed that there was so much fear. Fear of the client, of doing great work, of taking a big decision. Now I understand why there was fear. There was fear because there was mediocrity. Our greatest challenge was mediocrity. People were just not open. Okay, it was a different time then. But I knew I had to move on, because if I didn’t, I would become like some of the creatives I saw around me. They would say &lt;em&gt;“mera itnay saal ka experience hai.”&lt;/em&gt; But that doesn’t count; you’re only as good as your last ad. I knew I needed to take that step to keep my mind fresh, and having done so is the reason why I’m so relaxed now. I love The D’Hamidi Partnership. I love doing what I do. I love being able to contribute. And we have contributed well.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: In what way?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; At a time when everybody was being safe, here were two individuals who were prepared to be different. That was how we won the Schon Bank account, which was our first account. We waited for this opportunity, and there were about a zillion agencies pitching with scores of storyboards. And we came in with this one ad; it was rejected and we were told to come again the next day. So we did – with the same ad – and the same thing happened for five consecutive days; we kept going in with the same ad. As far as we were concerned, this was the ad that had to go.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Did they not think you were rather thick?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; They thought we were absolutely perverted. They took it eventually; they must have figured there had to be something right about it. Mind you, all the big guns were there. We learnt from that experience that we were very comfortable taking risks; that we had courage. It’s worth mentioning here that at that time (1993/1994), Masood Hashmi was the only individual to offer to release our ads.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Courage is important to you?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; Bravery is contagious; the opposite of that would be conformity. When you are happy, when you are confident, you get that into your system and that is how a culture evolves. In our agency, everyone from our computer operators up are confident people. Young men and women who want to go out and make a difference, and thank God for that. As an agency, we do not go out and pitch for clients. We don’t do that because, then, you are the individual standing in line, and the dictating of terms comes from the other side&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Isn’t that a rather arrogant attitude?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t think it is arrogance; you’re just guarding your integrity. Because, honestly, you want to go out and give good work, and there is nothing arrogant about that. In fact, that’s real service; you want to do this work, you want to make a difference and when you do that, your clients will make more money. No doubt about that. But we are not going to become part of a “hey, we can do this, this and this” culture. We are not a tick mark agency. We are a small group of individuals dedicated to using advertising as entertainment, which is what an advertisement should be. Mind you, having said that, because you are going to ask me this question later, with our joint venture with Orient, we did pitch, but then you can, because you are in a completely different environment, so you play by the rules of, I suppose, the big guns.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you subscribe to the view that creative talent is stifled in Pakistan?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; You’ll find the creative mantra written in every agency; you’ll find it written even at Unilever. “Be open, take risks”. But somewhere along the line people give in, and this comes back to courage. Why are you giving in? Remember MNJ in the seventies? You had a creative guy at the top; good work coming out. As recently as the early nineties, you had Circuit: a creative guy at the top. They were coming out with work that was good, respectable. It didn’t offend our sensibilities in any way because there was somebody who cared enough to make that difference and that’s really all that it is. Over here, because you’re a businessman or there is a subcontinental culture when it comes to running a business, especially small and medium-sized businesses (which is what we are internationally), you can’t really drive that kind of ethic or ethos. That’s why a lot of people suffer. I wish they would make talented creative people partners in their agencies.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Aren’t most agencies ultimately one-man shows?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; It’s always a one-man show. That’s the unfortunate part. There really can’t be a committee; there is no such thing as a collective vision; it’s got to be a creative dictator. You have got to be somebody who can just get that thing out, because that will become the voice of the agency. But it certainly helps if there are several creative individuals, but there is a hierarchy involved and that hierarchy should be encouraged because it helps good work come through.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Is it true that you are against awards?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes. We are not against being rewarded, and my definition of rewarded, for the time being, is just getting stuff out. We have the confidence to know that we are very good… an award won’t let us know that. We know that already. But certainly, when the time comes for us to display our peacock feathers and do the full corporate thing, when marketing comes into play for an agency, then certainly we will enter for awards. Our Mastercard TVC won an award, but it was entered by our client, Standard Chartered Bank. It won the Asia Pacific Award for the financial something or other.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: When ads fail the creativity test, most agencies blame the client. Do you agree?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; It is never the client’s fault. You are the agent. You are the ambassador of your work and you sell it. And there is a technique to selling. You sell it before the sale even comes up. You sell your reputation first and foremost, and you build a great relationship with the people that you will eventually be calling or selling to. Selling is an awful word, it’s actually communicating. You are communicating about your work. Once you have a trusting relationship then why wouldn’t your counterpart trust you? It’s the way any family works. Trust me and then let me prove it to you. Once they have tasted blood, they will want more of it, and they will keep coming back. That is the only reason why we have been able to keep a level of consistency. But then again, we personally interact with our clients; we personally manage the work.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Most agencies would say the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; In a lot of agencies, and I wouldn’t say the top management, but the front liners, take an interest in a different priority, which is how much is this work going to get me as opposed to how much of this work is going to go out and do? Fortunately, in the D’Hamidi Partnership, both these interests run parallel to each other.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What is the nature of your arrangement with Orient McCann?
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; It’s a joint venture. It means that the enormity of Orient as the largest agency in the country has been put into our service to espouse our brand of creativity for the clients we jointly pitch for. Orient just won their 20th APNS (All Pakistan Newspaper Society) business award. That’s a strong business arm, so why not link up with a strong creative arm and give the client a big hug? That’s the idea.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Is your agreement a contract?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; Exactly that. It is for an indefinite period, which means forever, or whatever the deal is. The Mobilink campaign was the first result of this JV, and I’ve learnt a lot in the process. We get massive exposure and at the same time, you manage to put out a certain degree of creativity; it’s been a very interesting experience.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What brought D’Hamidi and Orient McCann together?&lt;br /&gt;
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; Orient has been wooing D’Hamidi since that day at Schon Bank, when they released our first ad. It is a very unlikely partnership, because here you have someone who is very conservative; we are two extremes really. Credit to Orient to want to make this difference. It takes a lot of courage. In some odd way, you might be perceived as admitting your fault, but actually what you are doing is admitting a huge strength, that we are very comfortable moving out and getting a group of people who are able to offer us something which we want more of. It is actually quite logical; in the 10 years we have been around, I distinctly remember Masood (Hashmi) taking us out for lunch and saying “let’s do something.” Except we never knew what to do. Clearly he has his own challenges, because he is heading an agency and we have our challenges. So it worked out and I think that is great. Why reinvent the wheel? I could wait 50 years to become as big as that, but I’m doing it now. It also takes a lot of guts to do this.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Does the D’Hamidi Partnership still retain its own exclusive list of clients?
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; Completely. The D’Hamidi Partnership is The D’ Hamidi Partnership, and we are doing what we do, how we do it, all the way. This is something new that is developing as a parallel. The other day, for instance we were introduced to Unilever, which The D’Hamidi Partnership without affiliations and without the requisite trumpeting would not go for, or do.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: When you jointly do work for a client, in this case Mobilink, under which agency name does the campaign branding go?
FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; That issue has not even been raised or been made a contention because the relationship is a mature one. As far as we are concerned, the lead agency, which is Orient in this case, carries the name. There are no two ways about it. Then again, there are so many relationships involved with an account of this size: You have Fortune PromoSeven, the Gulf guys who supervise the account regionally in tandem with McCann; Mediaterrania, Orascom’s lead agency whose local shadow is Orient, the service spine of the account; and The D’Hamidi Partnership. So the name has to be Orient because it is the one common factor among us all.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What is your long-term vision for the D’Hamidi Partnership?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;FMH:&lt;/strong&gt; To keep doing what we are doing as well as we can, and I’m sure that that will lead the way. And that’s really where I leave it. Yes, we all have our five-year plan and all that, but I don’t know what the next five years will bring. I can give you a stereotypical answer but that would be a disservice to the way that we think. We have lots of plans to be big and beautiful and bold and international. All of that is part of any lad’s dream. But the bottom line is: let’s just get the craft absolutely right, and the craft will dictate where we are going next.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Interview conducted by Mariam Ali Baig&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>First published in <em>Aurora’s</em> January-February 2005 edition.</p>
<p><strong>AURORA: What brought you to advertising?<br />
FARAZ MAQSOOD HAMIDI:</strong> We all run into advertising. We don’t think, “Ah, advertising!” Everybody in my family is a banker, but I knew I couldn’t go to work in a suit and that I needed to find alternatives. So I did all kinds of things. I did art school; I did comparative literature at Sorbonne; I did international relations and then business administration (everybody in the eighties did business administration!). I did all that and I was <em>very</em> good, except that I was bored out of my mind. Then in 1989, while studying in Paris, I hit upon the Communication School in Boston. I went to this place called the ‘Ad Lab’, which apparently was the largest student-run agency in New England. And here was this 23-year-old supervisor who says, “If you are someone who enjoys coming up with slogans and writing, you are probably going to be a copywriter and if you enjoy doodling, maybe you’ll be an art director,” and I felt, “Yes, that’s me; that’s my career,” and everything fell into place.</p>
<p><strong>A: It sounds like love at first sight?<br />
FMH:</strong> It was and it always is. Every day. I completely inhaled advertising. It gives me an opportunity to be myself; I never thought this would be possible. I’m thankful I discovered advertising. I did a lot of odd things – literature, music, theatre – but the question was: Where do you focus your imagination? I knew it had to be something in the creative arts. And there it was, and it was an amazing discovery.</p>
<p><strong>A: Boredom hasn’t set in yet?<br />
FMH:</strong> No, not at all!</p>
<p><strong>A: What was it like coming back to Pakistan and setting up an agency?<br />
FMH:</strong> Here was somebody who had never been exposed to the environment in Pakistan, and invariably when you are an expat, you tend to have a rosy picture, an image of this lovely country that is a paradise. When I graduated, I was briefly at an agency called Hill Holliday, and I knew I could do this (advertising) in that environment. But I had no idea about this (Pakistan) environment; it’s a ridiculously challenging environment for all the wrong reasons. But I knew I had to go into advertising and that I would invariably do it in Pakistan because that’s where you can make a difference. If I were to do it in the States, I would just be one of 3,000 people making a very good difference, but then I wouldn’t be able to get that kick. I was 23 years old when I decided to open my own agency, and the only reason I could do that was because I ran into an individual, who is my business partner to this day (Adil Mirza), and who understood the system. So that has been a very interesting marriage of disciplines and the only reason why I can do it. I don’t know if I would be able to do it independently.</p>
<p><strong>A: So in a sense you have insulated yourself?<br />
FMH:</strong> Completely. That’s what keeps me alive, keeps me going.</p>
<p><strong>A: How long did you live abroad?<br />
FMH:</strong> Twenty-two years, although I was born in Pakistan. My dad was a banker, and every winter we would come back. It was one of those things.</p>
<p><strong>A: What was it like coming back?<br />
FMH:</strong> When I came back, to be honest, I thought it would be for a couple of years. Get to know the country; understand the culture. I joined IAL and I remember being put on the PIA account. It was a nice place to be because you got the huge exposure that PIA offers. When I walked into IAL, I noticed that there was so much fear. Fear of the client, of doing great work, of taking a big decision. Now I understand why there was fear. There was fear because there was mediocrity. Our greatest challenge was mediocrity. People were just not open. Okay, it was a different time then. But I knew I had to move on, because if I didn’t, I would become like some of the creatives I saw around me. They would say <em>“mera itnay saal ka experience hai.”</em> But that doesn’t count; you’re only as good as your last ad. I knew I needed to take that step to keep my mind fresh, and having done so is the reason why I’m so relaxed now. I love The D’Hamidi Partnership. I love doing what I do. I love being able to contribute. And we have contributed well.</p>
<p><strong>A: In what way?<br />
FMH:</strong> At a time when everybody was being safe, here were two individuals who were prepared to be different. That was how we won the Schon Bank account, which was our first account. We waited for this opportunity, and there were about a zillion agencies pitching with scores of storyboards. And we came in with this one ad; it was rejected and we were told to come again the next day. So we did – with the same ad – and the same thing happened for five consecutive days; we kept going in with the same ad. As far as we were concerned, this was the ad that had to go.</p>
<p><strong>A: Did they not think you were rather thick?<br />
FMH:</strong> They thought we were absolutely perverted. They took it eventually; they must have figured there had to be something right about it. Mind you, all the big guns were there. We learnt from that experience that we were very comfortable taking risks; that we had courage. It’s worth mentioning here that at that time (1993/1994), Masood Hashmi was the only individual to offer to release our ads.</p>
<p><strong>A: Courage is important to you?<br />
FMH:</strong> Bravery is contagious; the opposite of that would be conformity. When you are happy, when you are confident, you get that into your system and that is how a culture evolves. In our agency, everyone from our computer operators up are confident people. Young men and women who want to go out and make a difference, and thank God for that. As an agency, we do not go out and pitch for clients. We don’t do that because, then, you are the individual standing in line, and the dictating of terms comes from the other side</p>
<p><strong>A: Isn’t that a rather arrogant attitude?<br />
FMH:</strong> I don’t think it is arrogance; you’re just guarding your integrity. Because, honestly, you want to go out and give good work, and there is nothing arrogant about that. In fact, that’s real service; you want to do this work, you want to make a difference and when you do that, your clients will make more money. No doubt about that. But we are not going to become part of a “hey, we can do this, this and this” culture. We are not a tick mark agency. We are a small group of individuals dedicated to using advertising as entertainment, which is what an advertisement should be. Mind you, having said that, because you are going to ask me this question later, with our joint venture with Orient, we did pitch, but then you can, because you are in a completely different environment, so you play by the rules of, I suppose, the big guns.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you subscribe to the view that creative talent is stifled in Pakistan?<br />
FMH:</strong> You’ll find the creative mantra written in every agency; you’ll find it written even at Unilever. “Be open, take risks”. But somewhere along the line people give in, and this comes back to courage. Why are you giving in? Remember MNJ in the seventies? You had a creative guy at the top; good work coming out. As recently as the early nineties, you had Circuit: a creative guy at the top. They were coming out with work that was good, respectable. It didn’t offend our sensibilities in any way because there was somebody who cared enough to make that difference and that’s really all that it is. Over here, because you’re a businessman or there is a subcontinental culture when it comes to running a business, especially small and medium-sized businesses (which is what we are internationally), you can’t really drive that kind of ethic or ethos. That’s why a lot of people suffer. I wish they would make talented creative people partners in their agencies.</p>
<p><strong>A: Aren’t most agencies ultimately one-man shows?<br />
FMH:</strong> It’s always a one-man show. That’s the unfortunate part. There really can’t be a committee; there is no such thing as a collective vision; it’s got to be a creative dictator. You have got to be somebody who can just get that thing out, because that will become the voice of the agency. But it certainly helps if there are several creative individuals, but there is a hierarchy involved and that hierarchy should be encouraged because it helps good work come through.</p>
<p><strong>A: Is it true that you are against awards?<br />
FMH:</strong> Yes. We are not against being rewarded, and my definition of rewarded, for the time being, is just getting stuff out. We have the confidence to know that we are very good… an award won’t let us know that. We know that already. But certainly, when the time comes for us to display our peacock feathers and do the full corporate thing, when marketing comes into play for an agency, then certainly we will enter for awards. Our Mastercard TVC won an award, but it was entered by our client, Standard Chartered Bank. It won the Asia Pacific Award for the financial something or other.</p>
<p><strong>A: When ads fail the creativity test, most agencies blame the client. Do you agree?<br />
FMH:</strong> It is never the client’s fault. You are the agent. You are the ambassador of your work and you sell it. And there is a technique to selling. You sell it before the sale even comes up. You sell your reputation first and foremost, and you build a great relationship with the people that you will eventually be calling or selling to. Selling is an awful word, it’s actually communicating. You are communicating about your work. Once you have a trusting relationship then why wouldn’t your counterpart trust you? It’s the way any family works. Trust me and then let me prove it to you. Once they have tasted blood, they will want more of it, and they will keep coming back. That is the only reason why we have been able to keep a level of consistency. But then again, we personally interact with our clients; we personally manage the work.</p>
<p><strong>A: Most agencies would say the same thing.<br />
FMH:</strong> In a lot of agencies, and I wouldn’t say the top management, but the front liners, take an interest in a different priority, which is how much is this work going to get me as opposed to how much of this work is going to go out and do? Fortunately, in the D’Hamidi Partnership, both these interests run parallel to each other.</p>
<p><strong>A: What is the nature of your arrangement with Orient McCann?
FMH:</strong> It’s a joint venture. It means that the enormity of Orient as the largest agency in the country has been put into our service to espouse our brand of creativity for the clients we jointly pitch for. Orient just won their 20th APNS (All Pakistan Newspaper Society) business award. That’s a strong business arm, so why not link up with a strong creative arm and give the client a big hug? That’s the idea.</p>
<p><strong>A: Is your agreement a contract?<br />
FMH:</strong> Exactly that. It is for an indefinite period, which means forever, or whatever the deal is. The Mobilink campaign was the first result of this JV, and I’ve learnt a lot in the process. We get massive exposure and at the same time, you manage to put out a certain degree of creativity; it’s been a very interesting experience.</p>
<p><strong>A: What brought D’Hamidi and Orient McCann together?<br />
FMH:</strong> Orient has been wooing D’Hamidi since that day at Schon Bank, when they released our first ad. It is a very unlikely partnership, because here you have someone who is very conservative; we are two extremes really. Credit to Orient to want to make this difference. It takes a lot of courage. In some odd way, you might be perceived as admitting your fault, but actually what you are doing is admitting a huge strength, that we are very comfortable moving out and getting a group of people who are able to offer us something which we want more of. It is actually quite logical; in the 10 years we have been around, I distinctly remember Masood (Hashmi) taking us out for lunch and saying “let’s do something.” Except we never knew what to do. Clearly he has his own challenges, because he is heading an agency and we have our challenges. So it worked out and I think that is great. Why reinvent the wheel? I could wait 50 years to become as big as that, but I’m doing it now. It also takes a lot of guts to do this.</p>
<p><strong>A: Does the D’Hamidi Partnership still retain its own exclusive list of clients?
FMH:</strong> Completely. The D’Hamidi Partnership is The D’ Hamidi Partnership, and we are doing what we do, how we do it, all the way. This is something new that is developing as a parallel. The other day, for instance we were introduced to Unilever, which The D’Hamidi Partnership without affiliations and without the requisite trumpeting would not go for, or do.</p>
<p><strong>A: When you jointly do work for a client, in this case Mobilink, under which agency name does the campaign branding go?
FMH:</strong> That issue has not even been raised or been made a contention because the relationship is a mature one. As far as we are concerned, the lead agency, which is Orient in this case, carries the name. There are no two ways about it. Then again, there are so many relationships involved with an account of this size: You have Fortune PromoSeven, the Gulf guys who supervise the account regionally in tandem with McCann; Mediaterrania, Orascom’s lead agency whose local shadow is Orient, the service spine of the account; and The D’Hamidi Partnership. So the name has to be Orient because it is the one common factor among us all.</p>
<p><strong>A: What is your long-term vision for the D’Hamidi Partnership?</strong><br />
<strong>FMH:</strong> To keep doing what we are doing as well as we can, and I’m sure that that will lead the way. And that’s really where I leave it. Yes, we all have our five-year plan and all that, but I don’t know what the next five years will bring. I can give you a stereotypical answer but that would be a disservice to the way that we think. We have lots of plans to be big and beautiful and bold and international. All of that is part of any lad’s dream. But the bottom line is: let’s just get the craft absolutely right, and the craft will dictate where we are going next.</p>
<p><em>Interview conducted by Mariam Ali Baig</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145543</guid>
      <pubDate>Tue, 22 Jul 2025 12:23:37 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com ()</author>
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      <title>“We look forward to opening fresh avenues for brands to connect, influence, and inspire their consumers”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145518/we-look-forward-to-opening-fresh-avenues-for-brands-to-connect-influence-and-inspire-their-consumers</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uzma Khateeb Nawaz: When were your respective agencies established?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mehreen Abid Mir:&lt;/strong&gt; Nutcracker Marketing Solutions was formed in September 2024 in Singapore. It is a creative digital agency with a small setup in Singapore; we also have a nine-member team that operates on a profit-sharing basis from Islamabad. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Omar Jamil:&lt;/strong&gt; Latitude CSR is a public relations company based in Lahore; it was established in 2010, and we are internationally affiliated with Grayling. We have expertise in media relations, corporate reputation and advocacy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What would you say are the strengths of Nutcracker and Latitude?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OJ:&lt;/strong&gt; Latitude’s deep-rooted understanding of PR and communications within Pakistan, and Nutcracker’s innovative digital strategies, which have been honed in the competitive Singaporean market. By pooling our strengths, we are poised to deliver more holistic, cutting-edge solutions for our clients. In essence, this collaboration represents a convergence of local insight and global best practices, redefining the creative playbook for brands that want to thrive in today’s fast-paced world.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MAM:&lt;/strong&gt; We specialise in creating digital campaigns, design and content creation.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: How did this collaboration between Latitude CRS and Nutcracker come about?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OJ:&lt;/strong&gt; Creative advertising agencies in Pakistan often function in isolated silos, each focusing solely on their particular domain without effectively communicating or collaborating with other key brand-related functions. The result? Brands are unable to harness the full potential of their marketing investments and creative strategies, often falling short of the integrated impact they seek. When I discussed this vision with Mehreen, who shares the same passion for holistic brand solutions, we found ourselves on the same page. Together, we turned that idea into a reality, laying the foundation for a model that promises not only creativity but also coherence and real results for our clients and allows us to provide integrated communications – from public relations and advocacy to performance-driven digital strategies – to our roster of clients.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MAM:&lt;/strong&gt; We’re thrilled to collaborate with Latitude CRS. This synergy allows us to offer clients a seamless blend of storytelling and strategy, all the way from the first creative spark to high-performance marketing results. It’s a win-win for brands looking to scale authentically and effectively.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: Which challenges does this collaboration address?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OJ:&lt;/strong&gt; There is often a disconnect between the creative, brand and PR sides, which is a critical challenge in today’s fast-paced and interconnected business environment. Without a cohesive approach that brings all the essential pieces together – design, public relations, and marketing – brands risk delivering inconsistent or incomplete messages to their audiences. We aim to bring together diverse teams under a single umbrella, fostering collaboration and ensuring that every piece of a brand’s narrative aligns seamlessly with its broader goals.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: How does it benefit the brand?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MAM:&lt;/strong&gt; In the modern, data-driven business landscape, the success of any creative output is ultimately measured by its return on investment (ROI). We understand that while creativity is crucial, it cannot exist in a vacuum – every campaign must have tangible results that contribute to the overall growth of a brand. This is especially true today, when every rupee spent on marketing needs to deliver a measurable impact, whether that’s in the form of higher engagement, stronger brand recognition, or increased sales. Our integrated approach ensures that campaigns don’t just look good or generate buzz – they are built to convert followers into loyal customers, ensuring that brands get real numbers and real results that can be tracked and analysed.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OJ:&lt;/strong&gt; This focus on ROI doesn’t mean compromising on creativity; rather, it’s about channelling creativity in a way that aligns with the brand’s commercial objectives. We’re not just here to create campaigns that make people talk for a moment, we’re here to build long-term relationships between brands and their audiences – relationships that drive growth, loyalty, and sustainable success.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: How does the partnership benefit Latitude and Nutcracker?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OJ:&lt;/strong&gt; This integrated approach benefits both Latitude CRS and Nutcracker Marketing Solutions. For example, if a client needs PR or CSR services, Latitude can take the lead. Conversely, if a Latitude client requires a compelling creative narrative, Nutcracker steps in. This synergy strengthens both our agencies in their respective domains, expands our reach, and helps us attract more clients both locally and internationally.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What are your future plans?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OJ:&lt;/strong&gt; Taking advantage of our in-depth cultural and policy knowledge of the Pakistani market, combined with the international creative practices that Mehreen brings in, we look forward to opening fresh avenues for brands to connect, influence, and inspire their consumers, both in Pakistan and abroad.&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>Uzma Khateeb Nawaz: When were your respective agencies established?</strong></p>
<p><strong>Mehreen Abid Mir:</strong> Nutcracker Marketing Solutions was formed in September 2024 in Singapore. It is a creative digital agency with a small setup in Singapore; we also have a nine-member team that operates on a profit-sharing basis from Islamabad. </p>
<p><strong>Omar Jamil:</strong> Latitude CSR is a public relations company based in Lahore; it was established in 2010, and we are internationally affiliated with Grayling. We have expertise in media relations, corporate reputation and advocacy.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What would you say are the strengths of Nutcracker and Latitude?</strong></p>
<p><strong>OJ:</strong> Latitude’s deep-rooted understanding of PR and communications within Pakistan, and Nutcracker’s innovative digital strategies, which have been honed in the competitive Singaporean market. By pooling our strengths, we are poised to deliver more holistic, cutting-edge solutions for our clients. In essence, this collaboration represents a convergence of local insight and global best practices, redefining the creative playbook for brands that want to thrive in today’s fast-paced world.</p>
<p><strong>MAM:</strong> We specialise in creating digital campaigns, design and content creation.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: How did this collaboration between Latitude CRS and Nutcracker come about?</strong></p>
<p><strong>OJ:</strong> Creative advertising agencies in Pakistan often function in isolated silos, each focusing solely on their particular domain without effectively communicating or collaborating with other key brand-related functions. The result? Brands are unable to harness the full potential of their marketing investments and creative strategies, often falling short of the integrated impact they seek. When I discussed this vision with Mehreen, who shares the same passion for holistic brand solutions, we found ourselves on the same page. Together, we turned that idea into a reality, laying the foundation for a model that promises not only creativity but also coherence and real results for our clients and allows us to provide integrated communications – from public relations and advocacy to performance-driven digital strategies – to our roster of clients.</p>
<p><strong>MAM:</strong> We’re thrilled to collaborate with Latitude CRS. This synergy allows us to offer clients a seamless blend of storytelling and strategy, all the way from the first creative spark to high-performance marketing results. It’s a win-win for brands looking to scale authentically and effectively.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: Which challenges does this collaboration address?</strong> </p>
<p><strong>OJ:</strong> There is often a disconnect between the creative, brand and PR sides, which is a critical challenge in today’s fast-paced and interconnected business environment. Without a cohesive approach that brings all the essential pieces together – design, public relations, and marketing – brands risk delivering inconsistent or incomplete messages to their audiences. We aim to bring together diverse teams under a single umbrella, fostering collaboration and ensuring that every piece of a brand’s narrative aligns seamlessly with its broader goals.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: How does it benefit the brand?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MAM:</strong> In the modern, data-driven business landscape, the success of any creative output is ultimately measured by its return on investment (ROI). We understand that while creativity is crucial, it cannot exist in a vacuum – every campaign must have tangible results that contribute to the overall growth of a brand. This is especially true today, when every rupee spent on marketing needs to deliver a measurable impact, whether that’s in the form of higher engagement, stronger brand recognition, or increased sales. Our integrated approach ensures that campaigns don’t just look good or generate buzz – they are built to convert followers into loyal customers, ensuring that brands get real numbers and real results that can be tracked and analysed.</p>
<p><strong>OJ:</strong> This focus on ROI doesn’t mean compromising on creativity; rather, it’s about channelling creativity in a way that aligns with the brand’s commercial objectives. We’re not just here to create campaigns that make people talk for a moment, we’re here to build long-term relationships between brands and their audiences – relationships that drive growth, loyalty, and sustainable success.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: How does the partnership benefit Latitude and Nutcracker?</strong></p>
<p><strong>OJ:</strong> This integrated approach benefits both Latitude CRS and Nutcracker Marketing Solutions. For example, if a client needs PR or CSR services, Latitude can take the lead. Conversely, if a Latitude client requires a compelling creative narrative, Nutcracker steps in. This synergy strengthens both our agencies in their respective domains, expands our reach, and helps us attract more clients both locally and internationally.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What are your future plans?</strong></p>
<p><strong>OJ:</strong> Taking advantage of our in-depth cultural and policy knowledge of the Pakistani market, combined with the international creative practices that Mehreen brings in, we look forward to opening fresh avenues for brands to connect, influence, and inspire their consumers, both in Pakistan and abroad.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145518</guid>
      <pubDate>Tue, 10 Jun 2025 14:59:15 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Uzma Khateeb-Nawaz)</author>
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      <title>The Grace of A Strong Woman: Hilda Saeed (1936-2025)</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145515/the-grace-of-a-strong-woman-hilda-saeed-1936-2025</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;Writing an obituary for a parent or grandparent, especially when the person was a gigantic, well-known, and much-loved personality, is not easy. But we will try. Hilda Saeed, née Hilda Josiah, was born in Karachi in 1936. She was the eldest of five. She is survived by two sisters and a brother; myself (her daughter), her granddaughter, husband and several nieces, nephews and friends’ children who were deeply close to her. We all mourn her loss.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hilda attended DJ College and began her career as a microbiologist and college professor. Born and raised a Christian, she married Mazhar Saeed, a Muslim, in 1962, against the wishes of her own and Mazhar’s families. She faced severe pressure from her in-laws and society to convert to Islam but remained steadfast in her commitment to her faith. This experience contributed to her decision to campaign for women’s and minority rights, inter-faith dialogue and harmony. She began her lifelong commitment to activism by opposing separate electorates that would deny minorities the same voting rights as Muslims. She wrote extensively about minority rights at a time of increasing intolerance and physical violence.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In the late seventies, Hilda joined the Sindh government to establish a Forensic Sciences Department. As part of this work, she encountered several rape crimes, including those against children. The volume of violent crimes against women and the state’s apathetic response in the backdrop of General Zia’s Hudood Ordinances (whereby a woman had to have four male eyewitnesses willing to testify she had been raped, failing which she was accused of adultery, a charge punishable by death), moved Hilda deeply and instigated within her a desire to affect change. A friend who worked at DawnMedia’s evening newspaper, The Star, encouraged her to turn these cases into stories that were published regularly.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In 1978, she joined the Shirkat Gah Women’s Resource Centre, a women’s collective and non-profit organisation working on women’s rights. In 1981, along with Shirkat Gah and other human rights activists, Hilda established the Women’s Action Forum, which advocates for women’s rights in Pakistan to this day. She helped take several cases related to unjust accusations against women and members of minority communities to court, and made outstanding contributions in raising awareness about women’s reproductive and sexual health rights through her work as a media practitioner, and by participating in conversations with both community members and government officials. From these efforts emerged the Pakistan Reproductive Health Network, of which she was a founding member, which raised issues related to sexual rights. She also helped establish Panah, a shelter and rehabilitation centre for domestic violence survivors. In this regard, she went on to compile Survivors – Stories from Panah, The True Stories of Women Who Escaped a Life of Domestic Abuse, and a Shelter that Made It Possible published by Oxfam in 2021.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Throughout the eighties, Hilda continued to write about public health in Dawn and other communication channels. In 1983, she established Pakistan’s first public health magazine, National Health, which ran successfully until it closed in the late nineties. She would often say with amusement that people accused her of making National Health a women’s rights magazine because of her focus on reproductive health rights. Hilda is credited with bringing the concept of reproductive health rights to the country’s agenda. She participated in many UN conferences and international forums, including but not limited to, the UN Women’s Conferences and the UN Conference on Population and Development (ICPD) in 1994 as a member of Pakistan’s NGO delegation. Throughout her life, she worked with multiple international organisations, served on boards, and published internationally.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hila had a sweet, gentle, and fun-loving nature. She loved animals, reading, travelling and spending time with friends and family. She was humble and she never talked about her achievements, letting her work speak for itself. She instilled a love for reading in me and then my daughter, and in many of her friends’ children. Hilda was intrinsically kind, and would without hesitation did whatever she could to help others. She referred countless people in need of medical or legal assistance to doctors and lawyers, and she mentored many young people who came to her for educational and career guidance.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hilda maintained a lovely home, bringing back decoration pieces and souvenirs from her many travels, often struggling to hand carry heavy and delicate pieces in her usual determined way. She was known for her grace and the elegance with which she carried the saris she loved to wear. Every Christmas, she invited the children of friends and neighbours to decorate her Christmas tree, and always made sure there was a present for each child under the tree. It was not until much later that we realised how valuable this experience was for many children who were decorating a Christmas tree for the first time, and how much they looked forward to this every year.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As her daughter, she encouraged my interest in women’s rights and activism, taking me with her to protests even before I was a teenager, instilling in me a deep sense of the importance of human rights. I was her go-to person whom she asked to read and critique everything she wrote. When I moved overseas in 1996, she taught herself to type and become tech savvy so she could email me every day. She was also an amazing cook, creating innovative dishes with the limited resources available in Pakistan. Once again, I always had the privilege of being the first person to try everything she made. As a grandmother, Hilda’s youthful playfulness shone bright. From when my daughter was a child, Hilda would spend hours doing arts crafts, making kid-friendly meals, watching cartoons, and reading storybooks. This fostered a deep bond and they remained incredibly close for the rest of Hilda’s life.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It is difficult to do justice to Hilda Saeed’s life and legacy in mere words, and even more difficult to accept that she is now mentioned in the past tense. She has left giant shoes that are hard to fill, but again, we will try.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rahal Saeed is a global health, capacity-building, and gender specialist. &lt;a href="mailto:rahalsaeed@gmail.com"&gt;rahalsaeed@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Adeera Batlay has just completed her BA in Geo-Science and started a teaching position in August. &lt;a href="mailto:adeera2003@gmail.com"&gt;adeera2003@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>Writing an obituary for a parent or grandparent, especially when the person was a gigantic, well-known, and much-loved personality, is not easy. But we will try. Hilda Saeed, née Hilda Josiah, was born in Karachi in 1936. She was the eldest of five. She is survived by two sisters and a brother; myself (her daughter), her granddaughter, husband and several nieces, nephews and friends’ children who were deeply close to her. We all mourn her loss.</p>
<p>Hilda attended DJ College and began her career as a microbiologist and college professor. Born and raised a Christian, she married Mazhar Saeed, a Muslim, in 1962, against the wishes of her own and Mazhar’s families. She faced severe pressure from her in-laws and society to convert to Islam but remained steadfast in her commitment to her faith. This experience contributed to her decision to campaign for women’s and minority rights, inter-faith dialogue and harmony. She began her lifelong commitment to activism by opposing separate electorates that would deny minorities the same voting rights as Muslims. She wrote extensively about minority rights at a time of increasing intolerance and physical violence.</p>
<p>In the late seventies, Hilda joined the Sindh government to establish a Forensic Sciences Department. As part of this work, she encountered several rape crimes, including those against children. The volume of violent crimes against women and the state’s apathetic response in the backdrop of General Zia’s Hudood Ordinances (whereby a woman had to have four male eyewitnesses willing to testify she had been raped, failing which she was accused of adultery, a charge punishable by death), moved Hilda deeply and instigated within her a desire to affect change. A friend who worked at DawnMedia’s evening newspaper, The Star, encouraged her to turn these cases into stories that were published regularly.</p>
<p>In 1978, she joined the Shirkat Gah Women’s Resource Centre, a women’s collective and non-profit organisation working on women’s rights. In 1981, along with Shirkat Gah and other human rights activists, Hilda established the Women’s Action Forum, which advocates for women’s rights in Pakistan to this day. She helped take several cases related to unjust accusations against women and members of minority communities to court, and made outstanding contributions in raising awareness about women’s reproductive and sexual health rights through her work as a media practitioner, and by participating in conversations with both community members and government officials. From these efforts emerged the Pakistan Reproductive Health Network, of which she was a founding member, which raised issues related to sexual rights. She also helped establish Panah, a shelter and rehabilitation centre for domestic violence survivors. In this regard, she went on to compile Survivors – Stories from Panah, The True Stories of Women Who Escaped a Life of Domestic Abuse, and a Shelter that Made It Possible published by Oxfam in 2021.</p>
<p>Throughout the eighties, Hilda continued to write about public health in Dawn and other communication channels. In 1983, she established Pakistan’s first public health magazine, National Health, which ran successfully until it closed in the late nineties. She would often say with amusement that people accused her of making National Health a women’s rights magazine because of her focus on reproductive health rights. Hilda is credited with bringing the concept of reproductive health rights to the country’s agenda. She participated in many UN conferences and international forums, including but not limited to, the UN Women’s Conferences and the UN Conference on Population and Development (ICPD) in 1994 as a member of Pakistan’s NGO delegation. Throughout her life, she worked with multiple international organisations, served on boards, and published internationally.</p>
<p>Hila had a sweet, gentle, and fun-loving nature. She loved animals, reading, travelling and spending time with friends and family. She was humble and she never talked about her achievements, letting her work speak for itself. She instilled a love for reading in me and then my daughter, and in many of her friends’ children. Hilda was intrinsically kind, and would without hesitation did whatever she could to help others. She referred countless people in need of medical or legal assistance to doctors and lawyers, and she mentored many young people who came to her for educational and career guidance.</p>
<p>Hilda maintained a lovely home, bringing back decoration pieces and souvenirs from her many travels, often struggling to hand carry heavy and delicate pieces in her usual determined way. She was known for her grace and the elegance with which she carried the saris she loved to wear. Every Christmas, she invited the children of friends and neighbours to decorate her Christmas tree, and always made sure there was a present for each child under the tree. It was not until much later that we realised how valuable this experience was for many children who were decorating a Christmas tree for the first time, and how much they looked forward to this every year.</p>
<p>As her daughter, she encouraged my interest in women’s rights and activism, taking me with her to protests even before I was a teenager, instilling in me a deep sense of the importance of human rights. I was her go-to person whom she asked to read and critique everything she wrote. When I moved overseas in 1996, she taught herself to type and become tech savvy so she could email me every day. She was also an amazing cook, creating innovative dishes with the limited resources available in Pakistan. Once again, I always had the privilege of being the first person to try everything she made. As a grandmother, Hilda’s youthful playfulness shone bright. From when my daughter was a child, Hilda would spend hours doing arts crafts, making kid-friendly meals, watching cartoons, and reading storybooks. This fostered a deep bond and they remained incredibly close for the rest of Hilda’s life.</p>
<p>It is difficult to do justice to Hilda Saeed’s life and legacy in mere words, and even more difficult to accept that she is now mentioned in the past tense. She has left giant shoes that are hard to fill, but again, we will try.</p>
<p><em>Rahal Saeed is a global health, capacity-building, and gender specialist. <a href="mailto:rahalsaeed@gmail.com">rahalsaeed@gmail.com</a></em></p>
<p><em>Adeera Batlay has just completed her BA in Geo-Science and started a teaching position in August. <a href="mailto:adeera2003@gmail.com">adeera2003@gmail.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145515</guid>
      <pubDate>Wed, 04 Jun 2025 12:32:20 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Rahal SaeedAdeera Batlay)</author>
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    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>“We realised that the only thing we can master is the ability to adapt to change”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145315/we-realised-that-the-only-thing-we-can-master-is-the-ability-to-adapt-to-change</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AURORA: WHAT FACTORS LED TO THE ESTABLISHMENT OF DIGITZ DIGITAS IN 2012?&lt;br /&gt;
AZAM JALAL KHAN:&lt;/strong&gt; After completing my A-Levels in Pakistan, I moved to Canada. However, I returned to Pakistan for family-related reasons. I initially joined Daraz as I always had an entrepreneurial itch in me and I headed the marketing department there. However, the stint lasted for six months and I left due to various reasons. That was when Imtisal Abbasi, Managing Partner, IAL Saatchi &amp;amp; Saatchi and Zeeshan Shafi, Managing Partner and co-Founder, Digitz, approached me. At the time, they were in the process of establishing Digitz, an agency dedicated to the digital space. That is how things began in 2011 and we haven’t looked back. Digitz was established in 2012; we became a Digitas affiliate in 2022. In addition to Pakistan, we have offices in Toronto and Dubai.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Which companies come under the Digitz Group umbrella?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; Four companies form the Digitz Group. Digitz Digitas, which works on digital marketing for multinational companies. Red Cactus, which is a content development and influencer marketing company and works with our local clients. Digitz Software and Technology Development which is dedicated to tech. Station-01 is an incubation centre and allows us to invest in start-ups such as The Garage Sale Company and Khelo Kricket. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How was Digitz financed at the time of its formation? &lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; Imtisal and I invested in it initially. We also took a loan from IAL Saatchi &amp;amp; Saatchi with the promise that we would return it, which we did in less than two years.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How did you secure your initial client base?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; Imtisal and Zeeshan had started working on Digitz prior to my joining and they had a few clients through IAL, such as P&amp;amp;G and National Foods. After I entered the equation, we started to gain more clients. We essentially started as a social media agency, as this was the main function of a digital agency at the time. Today, Digitz and IAL Saatchi &amp;amp; Saatchi function as two completely different entities, although Imtisal Abbasi and Nida Haider Khan are also directors of the Digitz Group.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="when-digitz-was-a-very-new-agency-we-learned-that-globally-agencies-in-general-are-shifting-towards-an-integrated-marketing-and-communications-philosophy-and-we-are-therefore-positioning-ourselves-as-an-organisation-that-can-provide-end-to-end-solutions" href="#when-digitz-was-a-very-new-agency-we-learned-that-globally-agencies-in-general-are-shifting-towards-an-integrated-marketing-and-communications-philosophy-and-we-are-therefore-positioning-ourselves-as-an-organisation-that-can-provide-end-to-end-solutions" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #c80b89; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;“When Digitz was a very new agency, we learned that globally, agencies in general are shifting towards an integrated marketing and communications philosophy, and we are therefore positioning ourselves as an organisation that can provide end-to-end solutions.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Which services does the Digitz Group provide? &lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; We are an integrated marketing communications company. On a basic level, we conduct strategy, which entails research and understanding the consumer, our competition and industry trends. This also includes developing brand strategies with regard to how to roll out a campaign or even conceptualise a strategy for new companies. We also provide creative services, which mainly include thinking up big ideas for campaigns in an integrated way, including D/TVCs, activations, social media, influencer marketing or creating a website or a mobile app. We also provide design-related services which include animation among other things. We also do digital media planning and buying based on data-driven strategies, which clients are increasingly asking for. We are also now leaning heavily into providing hard-core technology and backend software-related services.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How have the services you provide changed? &lt;br /&gt;
AZK:&lt;/strong&gt; There has been a drastic change in these as things have evolved at a rapid pace. At the Digitz Group, we realised that the only thing we can master is the ability to adapt to change. When Digitz was a very new agency, we learned that globally, agencies in general are shifting towards an integrated marketing and communications philosophy, and we are therefore positioning ourselves as an organisation that can provide end-to-end solutions. In fact, we ask our clients to think of us as solution providers. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Into which areas is the Digitz Group expanding?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; We are heavily investing in providing software-related solutions. Software has two aspects. The first is called marketing or agency software and involves creating websites and mobile apps and developing marketing strategies, creative campaigns and design/animations – all of which serve a brand purpose. We also work with clients (especially those located overseas) in developing complex software systems. This is the second aspect of software – hard-core engineering software development – which is entirely related to backend systems. These projects are more attractive from a financial point of view. For example, we had an FMCG client who was trying to figure out how to gauge their point of sale customer profile and the options they had were very expensive and they didn’t have the budget for it. We created a customer relationship management (CRM) platform in addition to a loyalty management programme for them. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What changes do you foresee in agencies given the increase of AI? &lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t have a doom-and-gloom approach towards AI. I am very positive about it and I do not believe that it will take away jobs, because the way people think cannot be replaced by AI. However, AI is an important tool that can help us work more efficiently. For example, at one point, colour grading an image would take several hours; now it can be done in five minutes using AI-based software. Zeeshan and I are working on using AI to internally streamline our operations. As for our clients, we have created AI-based products for some of them and plan to continue in this vein, such as creating AI-based chat assistants or AI bots that can help improve customer service. We are also going to create our own influencer marketing tool; we are developing it for in-house use and may market it to other organisations if it is effective. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Which are the memorable campaigns that Digitz has worked on?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; Being a digital agency, the number of campaigns we work on is very high. One that comes to mind is &lt;em&gt;Coke Studio&lt;/em&gt;. Their content was amazing, but how &lt;em&gt;Coke Studio&lt;/em&gt; became better known had a lot to do with Digitz, in terms of increasing its reach on digital platforms and creating a dedicated fan base. We also did a campaign for L’Oréal after the Covid-19 pandemic began. As many stores were shut down, L’Oréal were unable to sell their products. At the same time, the French president had mentioned the hijab ban and there was a massive movement against L’Oréal products in Pakistan. After conducting a sentiment analysis, we initiated a campaign called ‘Online is Safe’. The campaign communicated two messages. The first was that people should stay home and shop online. The second was that the products available online were genuine and not counterfeit or products that came through grey channels. We also encouraged L’Oréal to ensure that their products were available on more than one digital platform. As a result of the campaign, we reached our sales target within four days instead of the month and a half we had planned. I think it was probably that single campaign that brought a shift in L’Oréal Pakistan’s way of approaching their marketing.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Who are your primary clients now?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; In Pakistan, our clients include Lipton, L’Oréal and Kia Motors; I think 70% of our clients are multinationals, although we do have local clients, such as Bisconni, JS Bank and National Foods. We are also working with Tetra Pak in Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, East Africa, West Africa and South Africa in addition to Reckitt in Nigeria and Kenya on the Dettol account. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="why-do-we-have-to-measure-creativity-by-the-yardstick-of-a-30-second-tvc-i-think-creativity-can-be-applied-to-anything-and-we-have-to-think-of-new-ways-to-be-creative-it-is-more-difficult-to-be-creative-on-digital-platforms-since-we-only-have-five-or-six-" href="#why-do-we-have-to-measure-creativity-by-the-yardstick-of-a-30-second-tvc-i-think-creativity-can-be-applied-to-anything-and-we-have-to-think-of-new-ways-to-be-creative-it-is-more-difficult-to-be-creative-on-digital-platforms-since-we-only-have-five-or-six-" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #c80b89; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;“Why do we have to measure creativity by the yardstick of a 30-second TVC? I think creativity can be applied to anything, and we have to think of new ways to be creative. It is more difficult to be creative on digital platforms since we only have five or six seconds to capture the audience’s attention.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What about your international client base?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; We secured a client in Saudi Arabia recently, which is a start-up, and are doing all their digital work. We have a few clients in Canada including a fintech. If there is a certain function that we cannot do ourselves, we bring in a third party to complete it. However, the ideation comes from our end as well as the creative direction and management. We have pitched some creative concepts to them and the campaign may be partially shot in Pakistan and Canada. However, our primary focus is on software development, marketing tech, ad tech and developing products. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Are you now focusing on becoming a 360-degree ‘conventional’ agency with a digital-first attitude?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t think we should use the word conventional anymore, because irrespective of the medium, content is content and we can help produce it. We are not trying to become a conventional agency; rather we are telling our clients that we have the capability to carry out any function they require. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What are the most dynamic digital platforms when it comes to attracting younger audiences?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; It would have to be TikTok, not only for young people, but also older ones, as everyone is on TikTok now. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Are brands using TikTok effectively? &lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; I think the majority of brands have figured out the correct way to use it. This includes using influencers and most brands have their own channels on TikTok. However, TikTok’s power comes from encouraging people to create content for their brands. For example, asking audiences to create videos by taking part in events such as dance challenges. A risky project we took on for L’Oréal was TikTok-based. Earlier, L’Oréal China had started to use TikTok for live selling. We hadn’t tested this practice here but decided to give it a try. The results were amazing, and we won awards for the campaign. We used a host of TikTok influencers for the campaign.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How do you rate the importance of influencer marketing?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; We refer to influencer marketing as advocacy and in some cases, it has an even better impact than Google and Meta. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you think that audiences now tend to take a more cynical view of influencer marketing?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes and no. I think people, especially the younger generation, can see through it. However, it still works better than placing ads on digital platforms and boosting them – which has become increasingly more expensive. However, ethics are coming into the equation and brands and influencers are starting to state whether a post is paid for or not.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you think creativity is being compromised on digital platforms?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; Not at all. Why do we have to measure creativity by the yardstick of a 30-second TVC? I think creativity can be applied to anything, and we have to think of new ways to be creative. It is more difficult to be creative on digital platforms since we only have five or six seconds to capture the audience’s attention. I am currently reading &lt;em&gt;The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness&lt;/em&gt; by Jonathan Haidt. Haidt says that the “great rewiring” took place between 2010 and 2015, after the introduction of the iPhone, 3G and social media platforms, and resulted in shortening people’s attention spans and changing the way they function. As a result, brands are changing the way they engage with audiences. For example, Bose, the sound company, created an amazing 30-second TVC showing people jumping and dancing wearing Bose headphones. However, the response was low due to its duration and they cut it to five to six seconds, showing the product and communicating the message within the first two seconds. This is the way creativity is shaping up, although perhaps I am not the best person to answer this question because I am, at the most basic level, a technologist and a follower of science.  &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What are the biggest challenges for digital agencies?&lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; One of the major challenges is hiring and retaining resources. There has been a massive brain drain in Pakistan and young, intelligent, and talented people are either looking for options abroad or opting to go freelance as it is better paid for them. A lot of people think the younger generation is inconsistent in terms of their approach to work, but I think they face a set of challenges that previous generations did not. Their way of thinking is very different. Another challenge is that marketing budgets are being cut. I don’t hold this against clients. However, as a result of this, cash flows have been affected and at times we can’t pay vendors on time because we don’t get paid on time from our clients. However, I think it’s just a matter of time until the economy improves, although the economic scenario has definitely affected the morale of people across the board. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: What are the Digitz Group’s plans for the future? &lt;br /&gt;
AJK:&lt;/strong&gt; We will continue to relearn and pivot. Ultimately, we want to go global and create work that can be seen on a global stage. No client or project is big or small. We will continue to position ourselves as solution providers and overcome challenges related to communications, technology and marketing.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Azam Jalal Khan was in conversation with Mamun M. Adil.
&lt;a href="mailto:mamun.adil@gmail.com"&gt;mamun.adil@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>AURORA: WHAT FACTORS LED TO THE ESTABLISHMENT OF DIGITZ DIGITAS IN 2012?<br />
AZAM JALAL KHAN:</strong> After completing my A-Levels in Pakistan, I moved to Canada. However, I returned to Pakistan for family-related reasons. I initially joined Daraz as I always had an entrepreneurial itch in me and I headed the marketing department there. However, the stint lasted for six months and I left due to various reasons. That was when Imtisal Abbasi, Managing Partner, IAL Saatchi &amp; Saatchi and Zeeshan Shafi, Managing Partner and co-Founder, Digitz, approached me. At the time, they were in the process of establishing Digitz, an agency dedicated to the digital space. That is how things began in 2011 and we haven’t looked back. Digitz was established in 2012; we became a Digitas affiliate in 2022. In addition to Pakistan, we have offices in Toronto and Dubai.</p>
<p><strong>A: Which companies come under the Digitz Group umbrella?<br />
AJK:</strong> Four companies form the Digitz Group. Digitz Digitas, which works on digital marketing for multinational companies. Red Cactus, which is a content development and influencer marketing company and works with our local clients. Digitz Software and Technology Development which is dedicated to tech. Station-01 is an incubation centre and allows us to invest in start-ups such as The Garage Sale Company and Khelo Kricket. </p>
<p><strong>A: How was Digitz financed at the time of its formation? <br />
AJK:</strong> Imtisal and I invested in it initially. We also took a loan from IAL Saatchi &amp; Saatchi with the promise that we would return it, which we did in less than two years.</p>
<p><strong>A: How did you secure your initial client base?<br />
AJK:</strong> Imtisal and Zeeshan had started working on Digitz prior to my joining and they had a few clients through IAL, such as P&amp;G and National Foods. After I entered the equation, we started to gain more clients. We essentially started as a social media agency, as this was the main function of a digital agency at the time. Today, Digitz and IAL Saatchi &amp; Saatchi function as two completely different entities, although Imtisal Abbasi and Nida Haider Khan are also directors of the Digitz Group.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="when-digitz-was-a-very-new-agency-we-learned-that-globally-agencies-in-general-are-shifting-towards-an-integrated-marketing-and-communications-philosophy-and-we-are-therefore-positioning-ourselves-as-an-organisation-that-can-provide-end-to-end-solutions" href="#when-digitz-was-a-very-new-agency-we-learned-that-globally-agencies-in-general-are-shifting-towards-an-integrated-marketing-and-communications-philosophy-and-we-are-therefore-positioning-ourselves-as-an-organisation-that-can-provide-end-to-end-solutions" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #c80b89; text-align: left;" markdown="1">“When Digitz was a very new agency, we learned that globally, agencies in general are shifting towards an integrated marketing and communications philosophy, and we are therefore positioning ourselves as an organisation that can provide end-to-end solutions.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p><strong>A: Which services does the Digitz Group provide? <br />
AJK:</strong> We are an integrated marketing communications company. On a basic level, we conduct strategy, which entails research and understanding the consumer, our competition and industry trends. This also includes developing brand strategies with regard to how to roll out a campaign or even conceptualise a strategy for new companies. We also provide creative services, which mainly include thinking up big ideas for campaigns in an integrated way, including D/TVCs, activations, social media, influencer marketing or creating a website or a mobile app. We also provide design-related services which include animation among other things. We also do digital media planning and buying based on data-driven strategies, which clients are increasingly asking for. We are also now leaning heavily into providing hard-core technology and backend software-related services.</p>
<p><strong>A: How have the services you provide changed? <br />
AZK:</strong> There has been a drastic change in these as things have evolved at a rapid pace. At the Digitz Group, we realised that the only thing we can master is the ability to adapt to change. When Digitz was a very new agency, we learned that globally, agencies in general are shifting towards an integrated marketing and communications philosophy, and we are therefore positioning ourselves as an organisation that can provide end-to-end solutions. In fact, we ask our clients to think of us as solution providers. </p>
<p><strong>A: Into which areas is the Digitz Group expanding?<br />
AJK:</strong> We are heavily investing in providing software-related solutions. Software has two aspects. The first is called marketing or agency software and involves creating websites and mobile apps and developing marketing strategies, creative campaigns and design/animations – all of which serve a brand purpose. We also work with clients (especially those located overseas) in developing complex software systems. This is the second aspect of software – hard-core engineering software development – which is entirely related to backend systems. These projects are more attractive from a financial point of view. For example, we had an FMCG client who was trying to figure out how to gauge their point of sale customer profile and the options they had were very expensive and they didn’t have the budget for it. We created a customer relationship management (CRM) platform in addition to a loyalty management programme for them. </p>
<p><strong>A: What changes do you foresee in agencies given the increase of AI? <br />
AJK:</strong> I don’t have a doom-and-gloom approach towards AI. I am very positive about it and I do not believe that it will take away jobs, because the way people think cannot be replaced by AI. However, AI is an important tool that can help us work more efficiently. For example, at one point, colour grading an image would take several hours; now it can be done in five minutes using AI-based software. Zeeshan and I are working on using AI to internally streamline our operations. As for our clients, we have created AI-based products for some of them and plan to continue in this vein, such as creating AI-based chat assistants or AI bots that can help improve customer service. We are also going to create our own influencer marketing tool; we are developing it for in-house use and may market it to other organisations if it is effective. </p>
<p><strong>A: Which are the memorable campaigns that Digitz has worked on?</strong><br />
<strong>AJK:</strong> Being a digital agency, the number of campaigns we work on is very high. One that comes to mind is <em>Coke Studio</em>. Their content was amazing, but how <em>Coke Studio</em> became better known had a lot to do with Digitz, in terms of increasing its reach on digital platforms and creating a dedicated fan base. We also did a campaign for L’Oréal after the Covid-19 pandemic began. As many stores were shut down, L’Oréal were unable to sell their products. At the same time, the French president had mentioned the hijab ban and there was a massive movement against L’Oréal products in Pakistan. After conducting a sentiment analysis, we initiated a campaign called ‘Online is Safe’. The campaign communicated two messages. The first was that people should stay home and shop online. The second was that the products available online were genuine and not counterfeit or products that came through grey channels. We also encouraged L’Oréal to ensure that their products were available on more than one digital platform. As a result of the campaign, we reached our sales target within four days instead of the month and a half we had planned. I think it was probably that single campaign that brought a shift in L’Oréal Pakistan’s way of approaching their marketing.</p>
<p><strong>A: Who are your primary clients now?<br />
AJK:</strong> In Pakistan, our clients include Lipton, L’Oréal and Kia Motors; I think 70% of our clients are multinationals, although we do have local clients, such as Bisconni, JS Bank and National Foods. We are also working with Tetra Pak in Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, East Africa, West Africa and South Africa in addition to Reckitt in Nigeria and Kenya on the Dettol account. </p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="why-do-we-have-to-measure-creativity-by-the-yardstick-of-a-30-second-tvc-i-think-creativity-can-be-applied-to-anything-and-we-have-to-think-of-new-ways-to-be-creative-it-is-more-difficult-to-be-creative-on-digital-platforms-since-we-only-have-five-or-six-" href="#why-do-we-have-to-measure-creativity-by-the-yardstick-of-a-30-second-tvc-i-think-creativity-can-be-applied-to-anything-and-we-have-to-think-of-new-ways-to-be-creative-it-is-more-difficult-to-be-creative-on-digital-platforms-since-we-only-have-five-or-six-" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #c80b89; text-align: left;" markdown="1">“Why do we have to measure creativity by the yardstick of a 30-second TVC? I think creativity can be applied to anything, and we have to think of new ways to be creative. It is more difficult to be creative on digital platforms since we only have five or six seconds to capture the audience’s attention.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p><strong>A: What about your international client base?<br />
AJK:</strong> We secured a client in Saudi Arabia recently, which is a start-up, and are doing all their digital work. We have a few clients in Canada including a fintech. If there is a certain function that we cannot do ourselves, we bring in a third party to complete it. However, the ideation comes from our end as well as the creative direction and management. We have pitched some creative concepts to them and the campaign may be partially shot in Pakistan and Canada. However, our primary focus is on software development, marketing tech, ad tech and developing products. </p>
<p><strong>A: Are you now focusing on becoming a 360-degree ‘conventional’ agency with a digital-first attitude?<br />
AJK:</strong> I don’t think we should use the word conventional anymore, because irrespective of the medium, content is content and we can help produce it. We are not trying to become a conventional agency; rather we are telling our clients that we have the capability to carry out any function they require. </p>
<p><strong>A: What are the most dynamic digital platforms when it comes to attracting younger audiences?<br />
AJK:</strong> It would have to be TikTok, not only for young people, but also older ones, as everyone is on TikTok now. </p>
<p><strong>A: Are brands using TikTok effectively? <br />
AJK:</strong> I think the majority of brands have figured out the correct way to use it. This includes using influencers and most brands have their own channels on TikTok. However, TikTok’s power comes from encouraging people to create content for their brands. For example, asking audiences to create videos by taking part in events such as dance challenges. A risky project we took on for L’Oréal was TikTok-based. Earlier, L’Oréal China had started to use TikTok for live selling. We hadn’t tested this practice here but decided to give it a try. The results were amazing, and we won awards for the campaign. We used a host of TikTok influencers for the campaign.</p>
<p><strong>A: How do you rate the importance of influencer marketing?<br />
AJK:</strong> We refer to influencer marketing as advocacy and in some cases, it has an even better impact than Google and Meta. </p>
<p><strong>A: Do you think that audiences now tend to take a more cynical view of influencer marketing?<br />
AJK:</strong> Yes and no. I think people, especially the younger generation, can see through it. However, it still works better than placing ads on digital platforms and boosting them – which has become increasingly more expensive. However, ethics are coming into the equation and brands and influencers are starting to state whether a post is paid for or not.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you think creativity is being compromised on digital platforms?<br />
AJK:</strong> Not at all. Why do we have to measure creativity by the yardstick of a 30-second TVC? I think creativity can be applied to anything, and we have to think of new ways to be creative. It is more difficult to be creative on digital platforms since we only have five or six seconds to capture the audience’s attention. I am currently reading <em>The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness</em> by Jonathan Haidt. Haidt says that the “great rewiring” took place between 2010 and 2015, after the introduction of the iPhone, 3G and social media platforms, and resulted in shortening people’s attention spans and changing the way they function. As a result, brands are changing the way they engage with audiences. For example, Bose, the sound company, created an amazing 30-second TVC showing people jumping and dancing wearing Bose headphones. However, the response was low due to its duration and they cut it to five to six seconds, showing the product and communicating the message within the first two seconds. This is the way creativity is shaping up, although perhaps I am not the best person to answer this question because I am, at the most basic level, a technologist and a follower of science.  </p>
<p><strong>A: What are the biggest challenges for digital agencies?<br />
AJK:</strong> One of the major challenges is hiring and retaining resources. There has been a massive brain drain in Pakistan and young, intelligent, and talented people are either looking for options abroad or opting to go freelance as it is better paid for them. A lot of people think the younger generation is inconsistent in terms of their approach to work, but I think they face a set of challenges that previous generations did not. Their way of thinking is very different. Another challenge is that marketing budgets are being cut. I don’t hold this against clients. However, as a result of this, cash flows have been affected and at times we can’t pay vendors on time because we don’t get paid on time from our clients. However, I think it’s just a matter of time until the economy improves, although the economic scenario has definitely affected the morale of people across the board. </p>
<p><strong>MMA: What are the Digitz Group’s plans for the future? <br />
AJK:</strong> We will continue to relearn and pivot. Ultimately, we want to go global and create work that can be seen on a global stage. No client or project is big or small. We will continue to position ourselves as solution providers and overcome challenges related to communications, technology and marketing.</p>
<p><em>Azam Jalal Khan was in conversation with Mamun M. Adil.
<a href="mailto:mamun.adil@gmail.com">mamun.adil@gmail.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>Agencies</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145315</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 10 Jan 2025 11:02:13 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (AuroraMamun M. Adil)</author>
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    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>“Our goal must be to ensure that our students get admission to the best universities of the world”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145502/our-goal-must-be-to-ensure-that-our-students-get-admission-to-the-best-universities-of-the-world</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AURORA: IBA KARACHI IS
CELEBRATING 70 YEARS.
WHAT WOULD YOU SAY WERE
ITS LANDMARK MOMENTS?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;S. AKBAR ZAIDI:&lt;/strong&gt; IBA
Karachi was established in
1955 – supported by Wharton
(University of Pennsylvania) and
subsequently by the University of
Southern California, and in the
sixties, it started offering degrees
in business administration.
In 1994, IBA was given
autonomous status whereby it
was able to give its own degrees – before that, they were given by
the University of Karachi. This
is when we began to diversify.
In 1995, we started a computer
science programme and in 1997
a social science programme,
and we have expanded ever
since. In 2021, the old Institute
of Business Administration was
reframed as IBA Karachi, and
we set up three schools – the
School of Business Studies,
the School of Mathematics and
Computer Science, and the
School of Economics and Social
Science. And now in 2025, we
have just received accreditation
from the Association to Advance
Collegiate Schools of Business
(AACSB). This is a huge quality
enhancement certificate that
puts IBA Karachi at the level of
the 1,035 best universities in the
world, including Harvard, London
Business School, INSEAD
and Stanford Business School.
It reflects quality assurance,
affirmation and recognition.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What are the criteria to
receive this accreditation?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; It is a process that takes
three to four years. It means
opening the institution to
scrutiny and evaluation; whether
you are teaching properly, the
student-to-teacher ratio, the
quality of the faculty and the
student body. It means ensuring
we reach the standards required
for AACSB certification.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What are the benefits of this
accreditation?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; It is a game-changer. It is
like getting the academic Oscar.
It is a recognition of our quality
and output. It will allow us to
access these 1,035 schools in
terms of exchange programmes
and curricula and to send our students to better universities
and help them get better jobs
when they graduate.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: IBA Karachi recently
entered into a collaboration
with the Stanford Life Design
Lab. What exactly is this
programme?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; Basically, it is about the
way one thinks about and
addresses problems on a
personal and work level. The
idea was proposed to us by
Junaid Aziz, an IBA alumnus
who teaches at the Design Lab
in Stanford. I visited the Lab and
it is a very strange place. There
is no classroom per se and it is
very interactive. We have entered
into a collaboration with Stanford
and in December last year, Bill
Burnett, the Executive Director
of the Stanford Design Lab and
Junaid came to Pakistan to
run a number of courses and
workshops. Forty-two members
of our faculty also took the
Design Your Life course online,
and this semester we are offering
the course to our students. It is
about pedagogy and bringing
problems to do with the world
into the classroom. Basically, it
is about the individual, his or her
role in society, what matters to
them and about thinking about
the world in an interactive way.
It’s about psychology, marketing,
management, problem-solving,
reflection and social skills. In a
nutshell, it teaches one to deal
with the world. Next semester we
will offer more classes and take
it to the private sector; a number
of companies have expressed an
interest in the course.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Given how quickly the
world is changing, what are
the subjects that interest IBA
students the most?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; Our computer science
department and faculty is very,
very good. They are doing
robotics and AI amongst other
things. Two years ago, we started
a data analytics programme.
There is a huge demand for
data analytics and we are now
starting a course called business
analytics – how businesses are
run and how to think about them
in terms of the future. Of course,
all marketing, management
and accounting courses have an AI component in them. We
are integrating technology in
almost every course. Take history
for example; what is a digital
archive? We are also hoping
to start a course on digital
humanities. The other popular
programme is psychology.
Dozens and dozens of students
want to study psychology. To
answer your question, AI, data
analytics, business analytics
and psychology are the new
emerging fields at IBA.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why the interest in psychology?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; Anxiety and stress have
become a big concern among
kids these days. Three years
ago, we started a wellness
centre at IBA with trained
therapists, psychologists and a
psychiatrist who sit on campus.
Students go there with issues
about their domestic situations;
about their parents, their fears
and apprehensions. Covid
has also contributed to their
anxieties – and this continues
to be a global problem. Then
there are concerns related to
climate change. There is a lot
more anxiety than there was
before. This is an anxious
generation and our students
are also part of that. They
want to understand what is
happening and psychology
offers an opportunity to do so.
In August, we are starting a
Master’s in psychology – the
undergraduate programme is
not enough and people say we
want to delve further in order
to understand and to cope.
Pursuing the degree may not
help you solve problems, but it
helps to understand what the
problems are.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How does IBA manage to
keep up-to-date with the pace
of change that underpins
anything to do with AI? Can
you even set a course outline
that remains relevant for the
entire academic year?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; Everything is affected by
AI; our textbooks are becoming
less and less useful. No one
writes a book on the internet
anymore; everything has
changed before you end chapter
one. I don’t think any university
in Pakistan, or in many other
places in the world for that matter, is current in terms of
what is happening – even the
Ivy League universities. The question is how quickly we can
catch up. In Pakistan, we are
obviously not going to be at
the level of a lot of the very good universities.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A:Why not?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; Pakistan does not have
the infrastructure. We are not
even on X. We are way behind.
A recent global internet survey
puts Pakistan as one of the worst
countries in the world for internet
access. India, Bangladesh,
Sri Lanka and Nepal are way
ahead. I don’t think we will ever
get to a stage where we are
where Singapore or Malaysia
or Turkey are. Or where many
countries in the Global South
are – and certainly not where
India is. One of the reasons we
will always be behind is because
of the ecosphere we work in.
We are not internet-friendly. The
Middle Eastern countries, despite
censorship, are doing much better
because they realise that this
is where the world needs to go.
That technology is going to drive
the world. As a country we are
not doing enough – science and
technology are hardly recognised.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Looking to the future, what
should IBA Karachi be striving for?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; Better quality education.
We are very good, but we can
and should improve.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; Better faculty members
who can ensure our students
are qualified to get into the
best universities in the world.
As a primarily undergraduate
university, our goal must be
to ensure that our students
get admission to the best
universities of the world. Our
students are getting into Oxford,
Cambridge, Berkeley, Stanford
or Princeton – something that
was not happening earlier.
Young Pakistanis are striving
to do better so that they can
get admission abroad and
this trend is going to continue.
Furthermore, now that we are
AACSB accredited, we should
be able to take IBA global,
and I am very particular about
internationalisation. We hired
seven foreign faculty members  in the last year. They live and
teach here; it’s not online. I want
to attract better faculty with
more exposure. People who are
dealing with issues such as AI
and climate change at a much
more practical and advanced
level, and I want that knowledge
to come here and be given to
our students. We also need to
expand our infrastructure. I am
here only for another two-and
a-half years; my second tenure
comes to an end in 2027, and
someone else will have to take
that over. The idea is to make
IBA larger. The ambition is better
quality students, better quality
output, better quality teaching,
better quality faculty, and better
quality infrastructure.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Is there an ambition to
expand within Pakistan?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t think that is a good
idea. Karachi has 30 million
people, and we can only take in
1,200 students a year. People go
to Harvard and Princeton from
all over the world, and if we are
of that quality, people will come
from all over the world to us.
Harvard is not going anywhere.
NYU went to Singapore, Yale
went to Singapore and the
Middle East and closed down.
My ambition is to make the IBA
an even better university and
let people come here. We get
students from Gilgit-Baltistan,
Sindh and Balochistan. Our
financial aid to students is about
one billion rupees a year, which
is phenomenal. About 30% of our
students receive financial aid. We
can expand that. We need to do
all this better and more in tune
and integrate with the world.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How is IBA supported
financially?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; IBA has its own finances.
It comes from the students, our
endowment fund and contributions
from our alumni. We also receive
some money from the Sindh
government. We are a public sector
university, and a lot of people forget
that. In fact, IBA Karachi is a very
good example of how the public
sector can work. We have our
own board of governors. The chief
minister is our patron – he is the
head of all universities in Sindh – but we are not dependent
on the Sindh government financially. One reason why IBA
does so well is because it is
financially autonomous.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Does IBA have a vice
chancellor?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; I am the vice chancellor.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: You are appointed by the
government?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; I am. I was selected
through an ad process.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Recently, the media
reported that the government
was considering appointing
vice chancellors drawn
from the bureaucracy rather
than academia. What is the
rationale behind this?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; The quality of education
in Pakistan is very poor, even
at a higher level. There are
264 universities in Pakistan, of
which maybe 15 or 20 are good,
a lot of them are average and
most of them should be closed
down. They were established
for political reasons… “I need
one in my district. I need one in
my constituency,” and so forth.
There is a crisis of leadership
in the universities. I think the
governments in Sindh, Punjab
and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa
believe that administrators and
civil servants are better trained
and more competent to run the
universities. I don’t think that is the
case, but I also think there is a
crisis in academia. We don’t have
good academics who can lead
universities, and this is a problem
that needs to be addressed by
attracting better academics from
abroad or from Pakistan and
giving them autonomy. A lot of
good academics don’t want to
run universities; they prefer to
concentrate on their research.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you see the quality of
higher academia in Pakistan
going down or up?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; Very much down.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAZ:&lt;/strong&gt; One, the universities are
not autonomous financially or
intellectually or in terms of what
they would like to do. Two, of the
264 universities we have, many
don’t have good quality facilities
or faculty. There is a major
crisis in higher education in
Pakistan like there is in primary
and secondary education. Most
universities are dependent
on the Higher Education Commission, and the federal
and provincial governments.
Only a handful of universities,
such as IBA Karachi, Dow
Medical College, FAST, NED,
NUST and UET in Lahore,
are financially autonomous
although they are public sector
universities, and they are run
on professional lines and offer
quality education. However,
they cannot cater to the
millions who want to enrol and
this is why I am talking about
expansion. The solution lies not in creating more universities
but in concentrating on quality,
merit and autonomy. Let’s fix
the universities that we have;
support and expand them and
offer better education.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;See &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145472"&gt;Bringing the Deep Logic of Design Thinking to the Inner Lives of Individuals&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dr S. Akbar Zaidi was in conversation
with Mariam Ali Baig. For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>AURORA: IBA KARACHI IS
CELEBRATING 70 YEARS.
WHAT WOULD YOU SAY WERE
ITS LANDMARK MOMENTS?</strong></p>
<p><strong>S. AKBAR ZAIDI:</strong> IBA
Karachi was established in
1955 – supported by Wharton
(University of Pennsylvania) and
subsequently by the University of
Southern California, and in the
sixties, it started offering degrees
in business administration.
In 1994, IBA was given
autonomous status whereby it
was able to give its own degrees – before that, they were given by
the University of Karachi. This
is when we began to diversify.
In 1995, we started a computer
science programme and in 1997
a social science programme,
and we have expanded ever
since. In 2021, the old Institute
of Business Administration was
reframed as IBA Karachi, and
we set up three schools – the
School of Business Studies,
the School of Mathematics and
Computer Science, and the
School of Economics and Social
Science. And now in 2025, we
have just received accreditation
from the Association to Advance
Collegiate Schools of Business
(AACSB). This is a huge quality
enhancement certificate that
puts IBA Karachi at the level of
the 1,035 best universities in the
world, including Harvard, London
Business School, INSEAD
and Stanford Business School.
It reflects quality assurance,
affirmation and recognition.</p>
<p><strong>A: What are the criteria to
receive this accreditation?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> It is a process that takes
three to four years. It means
opening the institution to
scrutiny and evaluation; whether
you are teaching properly, the
student-to-teacher ratio, the
quality of the faculty and the
student body. It means ensuring
we reach the standards required
for AACSB certification.</p>
<p><strong>A: What are the benefits of this
accreditation?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> It is a game-changer. It is
like getting the academic Oscar.
It is a recognition of our quality
and output. It will allow us to
access these 1,035 schools in
terms of exchange programmes
and curricula and to send our students to better universities
and help them get better jobs
when they graduate.</p>
<p><strong>A: IBA Karachi recently
entered into a collaboration
with the Stanford Life Design
Lab. What exactly is this
programme?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> Basically, it is about the
way one thinks about and
addresses problems on a
personal and work level. The
idea was proposed to us by
Junaid Aziz, an IBA alumnus
who teaches at the Design Lab
in Stanford. I visited the Lab and
it is a very strange place. There
is no classroom per se and it is
very interactive. We have entered
into a collaboration with Stanford
and in December last year, Bill
Burnett, the Executive Director
of the Stanford Design Lab and
Junaid came to Pakistan to
run a number of courses and
workshops. Forty-two members
of our faculty also took the
Design Your Life course online,
and this semester we are offering
the course to our students. It is
about pedagogy and bringing
problems to do with the world
into the classroom. Basically, it
is about the individual, his or her
role in society, what matters to
them and about thinking about
the world in an interactive way.
It’s about psychology, marketing,
management, problem-solving,
reflection and social skills. In a
nutshell, it teaches one to deal
with the world. Next semester we
will offer more classes and take
it to the private sector; a number
of companies have expressed an
interest in the course.</p>
<p><strong>A: Given how quickly the
world is changing, what are
the subjects that interest IBA
students the most?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> Our computer science
department and faculty is very,
very good. They are doing
robotics and AI amongst other
things. Two years ago, we started
a data analytics programme.
There is a huge demand for
data analytics and we are now
starting a course called business
analytics – how businesses are
run and how to think about them
in terms of the future. Of course,
all marketing, management
and accounting courses have an AI component in them. We
are integrating technology in
almost every course. Take history
for example; what is a digital
archive? We are also hoping
to start a course on digital
humanities. The other popular
programme is psychology.
Dozens and dozens of students
want to study psychology. To
answer your question, AI, data
analytics, business analytics
and psychology are the new
emerging fields at IBA.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why the interest in psychology?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> Anxiety and stress have
become a big concern among
kids these days. Three years
ago, we started a wellness
centre at IBA with trained
therapists, psychologists and a
psychiatrist who sit on campus.
Students go there with issues
about their domestic situations;
about their parents, their fears
and apprehensions. Covid
has also contributed to their
anxieties – and this continues
to be a global problem. Then
there are concerns related to
climate change. There is a lot
more anxiety than there was
before. This is an anxious
generation and our students
are also part of that. They
want to understand what is
happening and psychology
offers an opportunity to do so.
In August, we are starting a
Master’s in psychology – the
undergraduate programme is
not enough and people say we
want to delve further in order
to understand and to cope.
Pursuing the degree may not
help you solve problems, but it
helps to understand what the
problems are.</p>
<p><strong>A: How does IBA manage to
keep up-to-date with the pace
of change that underpins
anything to do with AI? Can
you even set a course outline
that remains relevant for the
entire academic year?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> Everything is affected by
AI; our textbooks are becoming
less and less useful. No one
writes a book on the internet
anymore; everything has
changed before you end chapter
one. I don’t think any university
in Pakistan, or in many other
places in the world for that matter, is current in terms of
what is happening – even the
Ivy League universities. The question is how quickly we can
catch up. In Pakistan, we are
obviously not going to be at
the level of a lot of the very good universities.</p>
<p><strong>A:Why not?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> Pakistan does not have
the infrastructure. We are not
even on X. We are way behind.
A recent global internet survey
puts Pakistan as one of the worst
countries in the world for internet
access. India, Bangladesh,
Sri Lanka and Nepal are way
ahead. I don’t think we will ever
get to a stage where we are
where Singapore or Malaysia
or Turkey are. Or where many
countries in the Global South
are – and certainly not where
India is. One of the reasons we
will always be behind is because
of the ecosphere we work in.
We are not internet-friendly. The
Middle Eastern countries, despite
censorship, are doing much better
because they realise that this
is where the world needs to go.
That technology is going to drive
the world. As a country we are
not doing enough – science and
technology are hardly recognised.</p>
<p><strong>A: Looking to the future, what
should IBA Karachi be striving for?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> Better quality education.
We are very good, but we can
and should improve.</p>
<p><strong>A: How?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> Better faculty members
who can ensure our students
are qualified to get into the
best universities in the world.
As a primarily undergraduate
university, our goal must be
to ensure that our students
get admission to the best
universities of the world. Our
students are getting into Oxford,
Cambridge, Berkeley, Stanford
or Princeton – something that
was not happening earlier.
Young Pakistanis are striving
to do better so that they can
get admission abroad and
this trend is going to continue.
Furthermore, now that we are
AACSB accredited, we should
be able to take IBA global,
and I am very particular about
internationalisation. We hired
seven foreign faculty members  in the last year. They live and
teach here; it’s not online. I want
to attract better faculty with
more exposure. People who are
dealing with issues such as AI
and climate change at a much
more practical and advanced
level, and I want that knowledge
to come here and be given to
our students. We also need to
expand our infrastructure. I am
here only for another two-and
a-half years; my second tenure
comes to an end in 2027, and
someone else will have to take
that over. The idea is to make
IBA larger. The ambition is better
quality students, better quality
output, better quality teaching,
better quality faculty, and better
quality infrastructure.</p>
<p><strong>A: Is there an ambition to
expand within Pakistan?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> I don’t think that is a good
idea. Karachi has 30 million
people, and we can only take in
1,200 students a year. People go
to Harvard and Princeton from
all over the world, and if we are
of that quality, people will come
from all over the world to us.
Harvard is not going anywhere.
NYU went to Singapore, Yale
went to Singapore and the
Middle East and closed down.
My ambition is to make the IBA
an even better university and
let people come here. We get
students from Gilgit-Baltistan,
Sindh and Balochistan. Our
financial aid to students is about
one billion rupees a year, which
is phenomenal. About 30% of our
students receive financial aid. We
can expand that. We need to do
all this better and more in tune
and integrate with the world.</p>
<p><strong>A: How is IBA supported
financially?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> IBA has its own finances.
It comes from the students, our
endowment fund and contributions
from our alumni. We also receive
some money from the Sindh
government. We are a public sector
university, and a lot of people forget
that. In fact, IBA Karachi is a very
good example of how the public
sector can work. We have our
own board of governors. The chief
minister is our patron – he is the
head of all universities in Sindh – but we are not dependent
on the Sindh government financially. One reason why IBA
does so well is because it is
financially autonomous.</p>
<p><strong>A: Does IBA have a vice
chancellor?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> I am the vice chancellor.</p>
<p><strong>A: You are appointed by the
government?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> I am. I was selected
through an ad process.</p>
<p><strong>A: Recently, the media
reported that the government
was considering appointing
vice chancellors drawn
from the bureaucracy rather
than academia. What is the
rationale behind this?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> The quality of education
in Pakistan is very poor, even
at a higher level. There are
264 universities in Pakistan, of
which maybe 15 or 20 are good,
a lot of them are average and
most of them should be closed
down. They were established
for political reasons… “I need
one in my district. I need one in
my constituency,” and so forth.
There is a crisis of leadership
in the universities. I think the
governments in Sindh, Punjab
and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa
believe that administrators and
civil servants are better trained
and more competent to run the
universities. I don’t think that is the
case, but I also think there is a
crisis in academia. We don’t have
good academics who can lead
universities, and this is a problem
that needs to be addressed by
attracting better academics from
abroad or from Pakistan and
giving them autonomy. A lot of
good academics don’t want to
run universities; they prefer to
concentrate on their research.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you see the quality of
higher academia in Pakistan
going down or up?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> Very much down.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAZ:</strong> One, the universities are
not autonomous financially or
intellectually or in terms of what
they would like to do. Two, of the
264 universities we have, many
don’t have good quality facilities
or faculty. There is a major
crisis in higher education in
Pakistan like there is in primary
and secondary education. Most
universities are dependent
on the Higher Education Commission, and the federal
and provincial governments.
Only a handful of universities,
such as IBA Karachi, Dow
Medical College, FAST, NED,
NUST and UET in Lahore,
are financially autonomous
although they are public sector
universities, and they are run
on professional lines and offer
quality education. However,
they cannot cater to the
millions who want to enrol and
this is why I am talking about
expansion. The solution lies not in creating more universities
but in concentrating on quality,
merit and autonomy. Let’s fix
the universities that we have;
support and expand them and
offer better education.</p>
<p>See <strong><a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145472">Bringing the Deep Logic of Design Thinking to the Inner Lives of Individuals</a></strong></p>
<p><em>Dr S. Akbar Zaidi was in conversation
with Mariam Ali Baig. For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145502</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 02 May 2025 11:08:40 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Mariam Ali Baig)</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/04/30142656ab83ef3.jpg?r=142659" type="image/jpeg" medium="image" height="480" width="800">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/04/30142656ab83ef3.jpg?r=142659"/>
        <media:title/>
      </media:content>
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    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>From Playdates to Pitches</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145512/from-playdates-to-pitches</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;The other day, I asked Amani, my seven-year-old daughter, what she wanted to be when she grows up. Without a second thought, she blurted, “I want to be a CLIENT.” To Amani, being “a client” is the promised land. It’s the place where the best version of her mum is always on display and where demands are met with quiet acquiescence rather than agitated aggression.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;If I think about it, raising my daughter and running an ad agency are similar in a lot of ways, and each role has sharpened my skills and honed my instincts for the other role.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Giant Balancing Act&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As I write this, I have 42 unread WhatsApp messages, half from work and the other half from school mums and class groups, two work deadlines, one solar system project (due tomorrow) and a juice-stained permission slip waiting to be signed in my handbag. Just this morning, I briefed my team on a new creative campaign while simultaneously organising a post-school playdate (with a bonus craft activity) at my house. I have added ‘Circus-level juggler’ to my CV and live with the fact that my brain will always have multiple tabs open at the same time. Motherhood has made multitasking a required survival skill.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Last Minute Briefs&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I need to be dressed as my favourite fictional character for school tomorrow” said Amani to me at 11 p.m. the night before her school’s book parade. Motherhood has trained me to expect the unexpected and adapt to impossible deadlines with the same cocky confidence my husband displays when assembling a dollhouse without needing instructions. It’s the art of someone who knows it’s either a do-or-die situation. So when I get hit with “Oh, I forgot to tell you, the board meeting is tomorrow and we need a full strategic plan for our brand for the year by nine a.m.” or “Any chance we can get the positioning in two days?” from a client, I do what any card-carrying member of the sisterhood of mothers would do – just tighten my ponytail, grab a carb-filled snack and handle it.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Learning To Translate Vague Feedback Into Actionable Next Steps&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Mums and agency folks don’t just listen to feedback – we learn to decode it. We decipher the indecipherable much like the over-caffeinated Gen Z hackers shown punching away at their keyboards in Hollywood movies. We learn to read body language, watch for eye dilation and lip twitches, re-examine hand gestures and look out for what has not been said. Whether it’s “I want this tagline to be punchier” or “I want to wear the blue thing I wore to that place where the music was too loud and the floor was dirty” we are masters at deciphering fuzzy comments and emerging with magical clarity. My husband, who just blinks at her like he’s buffering while trying to process such demands, is often rendered speechless with admiration at my knack for interpreting the uninterpretable demands of a seven-year-old child.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Listening to Your Gut&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Sometimes the thermometer says normal but my gut tells me to keep Amani from going to school the next day. I also know when “I’m not hungry” will become “I’m staaarrrrving” within minutes. When “I’m fine” is about to be followed by an outburst of uncontrollable tears. We mums have a secret superpower – our hyper-tuned, constantly nagging gut instincts. At work, I call upon this instinct every time I approach a brand strategy. It doesn’t matter what the data suggests or what the consumer research says – if it doesn’t feel right in my gut, it is most often not the right way to go.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Crisis Management&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;If anyone has navigated a child’s meltdown in a public space, congratulations – you now have a degree in crisis management. You learn to stay calm under pressure, to make split-second decisions and to always have a contingency plan. Motherhood doesn’t just teach you to manage a crisis, it shows you rapid response techniques, spin control and UN-level diplomacy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For all these reasons and more, I think motherhood should be renamed “Executive Leadership.” From tantrums to timelines, meltdowns to meetings we mums can handle the chaos of every day with a side of sass and a smile that says “I’m a mum and I’ve got this.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nida Haider is Managing Partner, IAL Saatchi &amp;amp; Saatchi. &lt;a href="mailto:nida.h@ialsaatchi.com"&gt;nida.h@ialsaatchi.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>The other day, I asked Amani, my seven-year-old daughter, what she wanted to be when she grows up. Without a second thought, she blurted, “I want to be a CLIENT.” To Amani, being “a client” is the promised land. It’s the place where the best version of her mum is always on display and where demands are met with quiet acquiescence rather than agitated aggression.</p>
<p>If I think about it, raising my daughter and running an ad agency are similar in a lot of ways, and each role has sharpened my skills and honed my instincts for the other role.</p>
<p><strong><div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"><strong>The Giant Balancing Act</strong></div></strong></p>
<p>As I write this, I have 42 unread WhatsApp messages, half from work and the other half from school mums and class groups, two work deadlines, one solar system project (due tomorrow) and a juice-stained permission slip waiting to be signed in my handbag. Just this morning, I briefed my team on a new creative campaign while simultaneously organising a post-school playdate (with a bonus craft activity) at my house. I have added ‘Circus-level juggler’ to my CV and live with the fact that my brain will always have multiple tabs open at the same time. Motherhood has made multitasking a required survival skill.</p>
<p><strong><div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"><strong>Last Minute Briefs</strong></div></strong></p>
<p>“I need to be dressed as my favourite fictional character for school tomorrow” said Amani to me at 11 p.m. the night before her school’s book parade. Motherhood has trained me to expect the unexpected and adapt to impossible deadlines with the same cocky confidence my husband displays when assembling a dollhouse without needing instructions. It’s the art of someone who knows it’s either a do-or-die situation. So when I get hit with “Oh, I forgot to tell you, the board meeting is tomorrow and we need a full strategic plan for our brand for the year by nine a.m.” or “Any chance we can get the positioning in two days?” from a client, I do what any card-carrying member of the sisterhood of mothers would do – just tighten my ponytail, grab a carb-filled snack and handle it.</p>
<p><strong><div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"><strong>Learning To Translate Vague Feedback Into Actionable Next Steps</strong></div></strong></p>
<p>Mums and agency folks don’t just listen to feedback – we learn to decode it. We decipher the indecipherable much like the over-caffeinated Gen Z hackers shown punching away at their keyboards in Hollywood movies. We learn to read body language, watch for eye dilation and lip twitches, re-examine hand gestures and look out for what has not been said. Whether it’s “I want this tagline to be punchier” or “I want to wear the blue thing I wore to that place where the music was too loud and the floor was dirty” we are masters at deciphering fuzzy comments and emerging with magical clarity. My husband, who just blinks at her like he’s buffering while trying to process such demands, is often rendered speechless with admiration at my knack for interpreting the uninterpretable demands of a seven-year-old child.</p>
<p><strong><div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"><strong>Listening to Your Gut</strong></div></strong></p>
<p>Sometimes the thermometer says normal but my gut tells me to keep Amani from going to school the next day. I also know when “I’m not hungry” will become “I’m staaarrrrving” within minutes. When “I’m fine” is about to be followed by an outburst of uncontrollable tears. We mums have a secret superpower – our hyper-tuned, constantly nagging gut instincts. At work, I call upon this instinct every time I approach a brand strategy. It doesn’t matter what the data suggests or what the consumer research says – if it doesn’t feel right in my gut, it is most often not the right way to go.</p>
<p><strong><div style= "color: #930f61; text-align: left;" markdown="1"><strong>Crisis Management</strong></div></strong></p>
<p>If anyone has navigated a child’s meltdown in a public space, congratulations – you now have a degree in crisis management. You learn to stay calm under pressure, to make split-second decisions and to always have a contingency plan. Motherhood doesn’t just teach you to manage a crisis, it shows you rapid response techniques, spin control and UN-level diplomacy.</p>
<p>For all these reasons and more, I think motherhood should be renamed “Executive Leadership.” From tantrums to timelines, meltdowns to meetings we mums can handle the chaos of every day with a side of sass and a smile that says “I’m a mum and I’ve got this.”</p>
<p><em>Nida Haider is Managing Partner, IAL Saatchi &amp; Saatchi. <a href="mailto:nida.h@ialsaatchi.com">nida.h@ialsaatchi.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145512</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 09 May 2025 15:00:01 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Nida Haider)</author>
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      <title>“From a wellness perspective, advertising is the worst industry to be in”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145469/from-a-wellness-perspective-advertising-is-the-worst-industry-to-be-in</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SOPHIA KHAN: WHAT DOES
WELLNESS MEAN TO YOu?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AMAFAH MUBASHIR:&lt;/strong&gt; That is a
tough question because wellness
is so expansive. I think for me it
means being in tune with my body – if this means sleeping a few extra
hours on some days or sitting with
my girlfriends and venting, that is
wellness for me. It can also mean
being on my own and just painting – whatever makes me feel good in
a healthy way.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How did your wellness
journey begin?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; I became a yoga instructor
about 10 years ago. When I
was an art student, I had super
unhealthy habits, meaning that
I would equate my worth to how
much I produced. I was caught
up in a rat race, to the point
where I was bragging about how
little I slept and forgetting to eat
because I was so engrossed
in my work. After graduating, I
went into advertising, and from a
wellness perspective, advertising
is the worst industry to be in.
Don’t get me wrong, it was
exhilarating and a lot of fun. I lived
for the adrenaline rush, but it was
extremely fast-paced and high
powered. Our entire lives were
confined to the office, and my first
meal of the day was a cigarette
and a coffee. After a while, the
nuances of advertising started to
get to me, and one day, it dawned
on me that I was really just selling
milk to people – and I thought to
myself, “What am I doing that is
of substance or actually makes
a difference?” I am not trying
to purport that I’m making a
difference by teaching yoga, but it
is so much more fulfilling.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How did you move
into yoga?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; I started taking yoga classes
in an effort to mend my relationship
with my body. In those days there
were only a handful of studios.
My introduction was through an
Instagram ad, and it was love
from the first class I took. It was
amazing. I was able to switch my
mind off for an hour, something I
had never done before. My body
felt good, and I was sleeping
better. Then the feeling of wanting
to be at the yoga studio and not
at work began to gnaw at me. I
needed to go to my yoga class
twice a week to stay sane, and at
work I was dreaming about doing
yoga in the mountains. I finally
took the plunge and quit my job, or
tried to. I started working part-time
and went to Thailand for my yoga
training. When I came back, that
feeling had only intensified. I was
met with a lot of opposition: “Are
you crazy? You want to leave this
career to become a yoga teacher?”
Six months later, I quit completely
and became a yoga instructor.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How did your training
affect you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; It was the first time in my life
that I was on my own and allowed
to be whoever I chose to be in
that moment. When you grow up
in a place like Karachi, there is
a lot of attachment to the person
you are, and it’s difficult to break
out of that personality. At the
retreat, they make you examine
all the different facets that mirror
who you are: the good and the
bad. And it is hard to look at
yourself and say, I love this part of
myself, but not that part – and yet
I should love that part of myself
as well.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How did that self-reflection
change you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; It changed the way I
perceived spirituality, religion and
God. I believe our relationship
with faith mirrors our relationship
with ourselves. When I was sitting
by myself and allowing myself to
connect with the shadows and
light within me on a beach in
Thailand, I felt so connected to
God and to the idea of a higher
power – and that love was just
flowing through me.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What were your early days
as a yoga practitioner like?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; When I started, I barely
had three people in my class,
which was to be expected as I
was new in the wellness circle.
Also in those days, fitness boot
camps were the trend. However,
I told myself I would persevere
even if I didn’t have enough
students; I would keep at this
until it worked out.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What led you to establish
Asana Wellness?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; I think every yoga instructor
dreams of having their own
space because it becomes a
reflection of who you are, and
you want to create that energy
for your community. Everyone
around me thought my love
for yoga would be a fleeting
passion and I would go back to
advertising. But in my heart, I
knew yoga was it for me. I tried
to set up a studio several times,
but the universe would put a halt
to these plans in some way, and
I took it as a sign that it was not
the right time, so I persevered
by building Amafah’s Asanas
on social media, and that was
where Asana Wellness started
to bloom.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What does Asana
Wellness offer?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; We offer holistic wellness; a lot
of classes, primarily yoga but also
dance, low-impact workouts, sound
bowl meditation, voice meditation
and breathwork, as well as
sensuality and couple’s workshops.
However, first and foremost, my
ethos for this space is building
community. Apart from the yoga
studio, we have a therapist’s office
with a private entrance so therapists
can rent the space and meet their
clients in complete privacy. There is
also a training room for budding yoga
teachers, something I wish I had
access to when I first started out.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What are your views on the
commodification of wellness?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; A lot of us give our energy,
our time and our space as energy
healers, yoga and fitness instructors
and Reiki practitioners. For a lot of us
this is our primary means of income.
You can spend Rs 10,000 on a yoga
studio membership or on an outfit –
the choice is yours.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What does wellness look
like for people who don’t have
access to it?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM:&lt;/strong&gt; I feel that for people who come
to the city for work, their one
month holiday back home is their
wellness time. As I said, wellness
looks different for everyone.
However, I believe that if people are
taught basic techniques, they can
incorporate those practices into their
daily lives. Meditation requires no
equipment and nothing but time.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>SOPHIA KHAN: WHAT DOES
WELLNESS MEAN TO YOu?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AMAFAH MUBASHIR:</strong> That is a
tough question because wellness
is so expansive. I think for me it
means being in tune with my body – if this means sleeping a few extra
hours on some days or sitting with
my girlfriends and venting, that is
wellness for me. It can also mean
being on my own and just painting – whatever makes me feel good in
a healthy way.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How did your wellness
journey begin?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> I became a yoga instructor
about 10 years ago. When I
was an art student, I had super
unhealthy habits, meaning that
I would equate my worth to how
much I produced. I was caught
up in a rat race, to the point
where I was bragging about how
little I slept and forgetting to eat
because I was so engrossed
in my work. After graduating, I
went into advertising, and from a
wellness perspective, advertising
is the worst industry to be in.
Don’t get me wrong, it was
exhilarating and a lot of fun. I lived
for the adrenaline rush, but it was
extremely fast-paced and high
powered. Our entire lives were
confined to the office, and my first
meal of the day was a cigarette
and a coffee. After a while, the
nuances of advertising started to
get to me, and one day, it dawned
on me that I was really just selling
milk to people – and I thought to
myself, “What am I doing that is
of substance or actually makes
a difference?” I am not trying
to purport that I’m making a
difference by teaching yoga, but it
is so much more fulfilling.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How did you move
into yoga?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> I started taking yoga classes
in an effort to mend my relationship
with my body. In those days there
were only a handful of studios.
My introduction was through an
Instagram ad, and it was love
from the first class I took. It was
amazing. I was able to switch my
mind off for an hour, something I
had never done before. My body
felt good, and I was sleeping
better. Then the feeling of wanting
to be at the yoga studio and not
at work began to gnaw at me. I
needed to go to my yoga class
twice a week to stay sane, and at
work I was dreaming about doing
yoga in the mountains. I finally
took the plunge and quit my job, or
tried to. I started working part-time
and went to Thailand for my yoga
training. When I came back, that
feeling had only intensified. I was
met with a lot of opposition: “Are
you crazy? You want to leave this
career to become a yoga teacher?”
Six months later, I quit completely
and became a yoga instructor.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How did your training
affect you?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> It was the first time in my life
that I was on my own and allowed
to be whoever I chose to be in
that moment. When you grow up
in a place like Karachi, there is
a lot of attachment to the person
you are, and it’s difficult to break
out of that personality. At the
retreat, they make you examine
all the different facets that mirror
who you are: the good and the
bad. And it is hard to look at
yourself and say, I love this part of
myself, but not that part – and yet
I should love that part of myself
as well.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How did that self-reflection
change you?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> It changed the way I
perceived spirituality, religion and
God. I believe our relationship
with faith mirrors our relationship
with ourselves. When I was sitting
by myself and allowing myself to
connect with the shadows and
light within me on a beach in
Thailand, I felt so connected to
God and to the idea of a higher
power – and that love was just
flowing through me.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What were your early days
as a yoga practitioner like?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> When I started, I barely
had three people in my class,
which was to be expected as I
was new in the wellness circle.
Also in those days, fitness boot
camps were the trend. However,
I told myself I would persevere
even if I didn’t have enough
students; I would keep at this
until it worked out.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What led you to establish
Asana Wellness?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> I think every yoga instructor
dreams of having their own
space because it becomes a
reflection of who you are, and
you want to create that energy
for your community. Everyone
around me thought my love
for yoga would be a fleeting
passion and I would go back to
advertising. But in my heart, I
knew yoga was it for me. I tried
to set up a studio several times,
but the universe would put a halt
to these plans in some way, and
I took it as a sign that it was not
the right time, so I persevered
by building Amafah’s Asanas
on social media, and that was
where Asana Wellness started
to bloom.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What does Asana
Wellness offer?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> We offer holistic wellness; a lot
of classes, primarily yoga but also
dance, low-impact workouts, sound
bowl meditation, voice meditation
and breathwork, as well as
sensuality and couple’s workshops.
However, first and foremost, my
ethos for this space is building
community. Apart from the yoga
studio, we have a therapist’s office
with a private entrance so therapists
can rent the space and meet their
clients in complete privacy. There is
also a training room for budding yoga
teachers, something I wish I had
access to when I first started out.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What are your views on the
commodification of wellness?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> A lot of us give our energy,
our time and our space as energy
healers, yoga and fitness instructors
and Reiki practitioners. For a lot of us
this is our primary means of income.
You can spend Rs 10,000 on a yoga
studio membership or on an outfit –
the choice is yours.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What does wellness look
like for people who don’t have
access to it?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AM:</strong> I feel that for people who come
to the city for work, their one
month holiday back home is their
wellness time. As I said, wellness
looks different for everyone.
However, I believe that if people are
taught basic techniques, they can
incorporate those practices into their
daily lives. Meditation requires no
equipment and nothing but time.</p>
<p><em>For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145469</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 02 May 2025 16:04:39 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Sophia Khan)</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/04/23163612c82b7ed.jpg?r=163903" type="image/jpeg" medium="image" height="480" width="800">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/04/23163612c82b7ed.jpg?r=163903"/>
        <media:title/>
      </media:content>
    </item>
    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>“Korean, French and Spanish content present major opportunities in the voice-over and dubbing business”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145498/korean-french-and-spanish-content-present-major-opportunities-in-the-voice-over-and-dubbing-business</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uzma Khateeb Nawaz: When was Media Menderz Production formed?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;Hammad Hussain:&lt;/strong&gt; We began
operations in June 2024. We
are Pakistan’s first voice acting
training centre.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What prompted you to set up a voice acting
training centre?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt;  I realised that there was
no dedicated training institute
where aspiring professionals
could learn the craft of voice
acting. Although many individuals
have the talent and the potential,
they often lack the required
guidance to help them advance
their careers in this field. At
Media Menderz, we are driven
by three core missions: to create
awareness about the power
of vocals; to help individuals
become more expressive; and
to expand the voice-over and
dubbing segment by nurturing
talent and providing people
with opportunities. A common
misconception is that a good
voice is acquired naturally, but
that is not the case. Most people
can be trained to excel in dubbing
and voice-overs – be it singing
or acting. One of our goals is
to demonstrate how everyday
speech patterns are shaped
by a person’s experiences. For
example, people’s professions
influence the way they speak –
customer service professionals
tend to speak in soft and polite
tones, salespeople often speak
quickly, and teachers generally
project high-pitched voices.
Backgrounds, personalities,
and professions all impact vocal
expression – and although we
pay attention to our physical
appearance, we often overlook
the significance of our voices. At
Media Menderz, we emphasise
that no matter what career path
you choose, your voice is a vital
aspect of your personality – and
with proper training, it can be
refined and enhanced.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What is your background
in this field?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; I have been involved
in dubbing and voice-over
projects for almost 15 years. I
started as a dubbing artist for a
character in the Turkish drama
&lt;em&gt;Mera Sultan&lt;/em&gt; and my major
breakthrough voice role was
in &lt;em&gt;Kosem Sultan&lt;/em&gt;, as the lead
voice actor for the character of
Ahmet Sultan. I have also done
many commercials and I am the
‘voice’ for multiple brands. I have
worked in radio as well.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What was the biggest lesson that you learnt from your experience in voice acting?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; That without proper training,
a voice-over artist remains a ‘mechanical’ performer –
improving through practice rather than an understanding of vocal
techniques. I learnt that although
my voice pitch and delivery were
improving, I lacked the technical
insight to understand what was
driving that improvement. For
instance, the way we speak can
be modified by using the voice
resonators that are located in
various parts of our bodies, be
it the nose, chest or abdomen.
Resonance is what gives the
voice a rich, full quality, and
it is shaped by vibrations in
these areas. Interestingly, 90%
of people rely on their throat to
speak, unaware that the chest
and abdomen play a crucial role
in voice projection and resonance.
These are just some of the things
we teach in our classes.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: Are you the primary
trainer at Media Menderz?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes, in addition to guest
speakers with experience
in dubbing and voice-over
projects. So far, we have
trained more than 50 people
and currently 60 students are
enrolled in our classes.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What training modules
do you offer?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; We offer a three-month
basic course which is held over
weekends and comprises 24
two-hour classes. The course
focuses on improving vocal skills
and helps students understand
how their voices can be used for
dramas, narration, commercials,
and animation.  Our advanced
course is a six-month programme
to help students gain an in
depth understanding of dubbing
and voice-over techniques.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Our courses also focus on other
functions, such as subtitling,
script writing and editing. Through
these courses, our students gain
exposure, build their portfolio and
develop a strong foundation in
voice acting and production. We
also offer courses to children aged
from six to 15 to help them be
more expressive. This is important
because, given the amount of
time that Gen Alpha spends on
their phones, they have become
socially withdrawn, and although
they excel in understanding
technology and using their minds,
they often struggle with basic
communication skills when it
comes to face-to-face interaction.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What is the fee structure
for your courses?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; We charge Rs 12,000 per
month for both the basic and
advanced courses. For children,
it is Rs 10,000 per month. Within
these fee structures, in addition to
on-site training, we also organise
visits to production houses, and
guest lectures by senior dubbing
and voice-over artists.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: How have you promoted
Media Menderz?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; We are focusing on social
media, including Instagram and
Facebook, as well as word-of
mouth. We also organise free
workshops to help potential
students understand what our
courses offer – we plan to hold
workshops at schools, colleges
and universities as well.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: Do you facilitate your
students in acquiring dubbing
and voice-over projects after
they complete their course?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; Definitely. Having been in
this industry for so long, I am
well-connected with production
houses, and they are always
looking for new voices. Once
our students have completed
their training, we arrange
auditions for them at production
houses, and many of them have
already embarked on careers
as voice-over artists.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What is the future of
voice-over and dubbing&lt;br /&gt;
in Pakistan?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; Although it has grown
with time, it remains largely
untapped, and until 2010,
dubbing was virtually non
existent. However, today,
eight to 10 production houses
are working on projects that
require dubbing and voice
acting – as do channels that
air dubbed content, such as
Green Entertainment, Geo
Entertainment, Hum TV and
Aan TV. Korean, French and
Spanish content present major
opportunities in the voice
over and dubbing business,
although at the moment, the
bulk of dubbing work revolves
around Turkish content, followed
by cartoons. The Kids Zone
channel, for instance, solely airs
content that has been dubbed
in Urdu.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What are your future plans?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;HH:&lt;/strong&gt; We plan to open multiple
branches in Karachi in addition
to Islamabad and Lahore, as we
have received positive feedback
from these cities.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>Uzma Khateeb Nawaz: When was Media Menderz Production formed?</strong><br />
<strong>Hammad Hussain:</strong> We began
operations in June 2024. We
are Pakistan’s first voice acting
training centre.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What prompted you to set up a voice acting
training centre?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong>  I realised that there was
no dedicated training institute
where aspiring professionals
could learn the craft of voice
acting. Although many individuals
have the talent and the potential,
they often lack the required
guidance to help them advance
their careers in this field. At
Media Menderz, we are driven
by three core missions: to create
awareness about the power
of vocals; to help individuals
become more expressive; and
to expand the voice-over and
dubbing segment by nurturing
talent and providing people
with opportunities. A common
misconception is that a good
voice is acquired naturally, but
that is not the case. Most people
can be trained to excel in dubbing
and voice-overs – be it singing
or acting. One of our goals is
to demonstrate how everyday
speech patterns are shaped
by a person’s experiences. For
example, people’s professions
influence the way they speak –
customer service professionals
tend to speak in soft and polite
tones, salespeople often speak
quickly, and teachers generally
project high-pitched voices.
Backgrounds, personalities,
and professions all impact vocal
expression – and although we
pay attention to our physical
appearance, we often overlook
the significance of our voices. At
Media Menderz, we emphasise
that no matter what career path
you choose, your voice is a vital
aspect of your personality – and
with proper training, it can be
refined and enhanced.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What is your background
in this field?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> I have been involved
in dubbing and voice-over
projects for almost 15 years. I
started as a dubbing artist for a
character in the Turkish drama
<em>Mera Sultan</em> and my major
breakthrough voice role was
in <em>Kosem Sultan</em>, as the lead
voice actor for the character of
Ahmet Sultan. I have also done
many commercials and I am the
‘voice’ for multiple brands. I have
worked in radio as well.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What was the biggest lesson that you learnt from your experience in voice acting?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> That without proper training,
a voice-over artist remains a ‘mechanical’ performer –
improving through practice rather than an understanding of vocal
techniques. I learnt that although
my voice pitch and delivery were
improving, I lacked the technical
insight to understand what was
driving that improvement. For
instance, the way we speak can
be modified by using the voice
resonators that are located in
various parts of our bodies, be
it the nose, chest or abdomen.
Resonance is what gives the
voice a rich, full quality, and
it is shaped by vibrations in
these areas. Interestingly, 90%
of people rely on their throat to
speak, unaware that the chest
and abdomen play a crucial role
in voice projection and resonance.
These are just some of the things
we teach in our classes.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: Are you the primary
trainer at Media Menderz?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> Yes, in addition to guest
speakers with experience
in dubbing and voice-over
projects. So far, we have
trained more than 50 people
and currently 60 students are
enrolled in our classes.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What training modules
do you offer?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> We offer a three-month
basic course which is held over
weekends and comprises 24
two-hour classes. The course
focuses on improving vocal skills
and helps students understand
how their voices can be used for
dramas, narration, commercials,
and animation.  Our advanced
course is a six-month programme
to help students gain an in
depth understanding of dubbing
and voice-over techniques.</p>
<p>Our courses also focus on other
functions, such as subtitling,
script writing and editing. Through
these courses, our students gain
exposure, build their portfolio and
develop a strong foundation in
voice acting and production. We
also offer courses to children aged
from six to 15 to help them be
more expressive. This is important
because, given the amount of
time that Gen Alpha spends on
their phones, they have become
socially withdrawn, and although
they excel in understanding
technology and using their minds,
they often struggle with basic
communication skills when it
comes to face-to-face interaction.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What is the fee structure
for your courses?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> We charge Rs 12,000 per
month for both the basic and
advanced courses. For children,
it is Rs 10,000 per month. Within
these fee structures, in addition to
on-site training, we also organise
visits to production houses, and
guest lectures by senior dubbing
and voice-over artists.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: How have you promoted
Media Menderz?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> We are focusing on social
media, including Instagram and
Facebook, as well as word-of
mouth. We also organise free
workshops to help potential
students understand what our
courses offer – we plan to hold
workshops at schools, colleges
and universities as well.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: Do you facilitate your
students in acquiring dubbing
and voice-over projects after
they complete their course?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> Definitely. Having been in
this industry for so long, I am
well-connected with production
houses, and they are always
looking for new voices. Once
our students have completed
their training, we arrange
auditions for them at production
houses, and many of them have
already embarked on careers
as voice-over artists.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What is the future of
voice-over and dubbing<br />
in Pakistan?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> Although it has grown
with time, it remains largely
untapped, and until 2010,
dubbing was virtually non
existent. However, today,
eight to 10 production houses
are working on projects that
require dubbing and voice
acting – as do channels that
air dubbed content, such as
Green Entertainment, Geo
Entertainment, Hum TV and
Aan TV. Korean, French and
Spanish content present major
opportunities in the voice
over and dubbing business,
although at the moment, the
bulk of dubbing work revolves
around Turkish content, followed
by cartoons. The Kids Zone
channel, for instance, solely airs
content that has been dubbed
in Urdu.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What are your future plans?</strong><br />
<strong>HH:</strong> We plan to open multiple
branches in Karachi in addition
to Islamabad and Lahore, as we
have received positive feedback
from these cities.</p>
<p><em>For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145498</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 02 May 2025 14:29:13 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com ()</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/05/021427269f0cab3.jpg?r=143153" type="image/jpeg" medium="image" height="480" width="800">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/05/021427269f0cab3.jpg?r=143153"/>
        <media:title/>
      </media:content>
    </item>
    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>“We are committed to making wellness accessible and affordable to the average consumer”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145494/we-are-committed-to-making-wellness-accessible-and-affordable-to-the-average-consumer</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SADIA KAMRAN:&lt;/strong&gt; WHAT PRECISELY IS THE ROLE OF A CHIEF GROWTH OFFICER?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ANUM AKHAI:&lt;/strong&gt; I joined Martin Dow in 2018 as executive director in the business development department. The department is the growth engine of the entity as all the new products we bring in, whether for the local or the international market, are driven from there. It was a great learning opportunity as the department deals with a lot of internal and external stakeholders; R&amp;amp;D, supply chain, regulatory, finance and so on. I then became the group director of business growth and strategy, and now serve as chief growth officer. I am on the board of the company and work closely with our chairman and CEO on growth strategy, overseeing diversification, acquisitions, divestments and portfolio development. In October 2023, after analysing global and local trends, we recognised that this was the right time to launch a new entity under the Martin Dow Group. The initiative focused on building a portfolio centred on Health OTC (HOTC) such as supplements and insect repellents; non-prescription consumer products that are preventative and proactive. In April 2024, we introduced Welnox.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: Why was 2024 considered to be the right time to launch Welnox? How does the brand aim to make “wellness a joyful, every day journey”, as stated in its mission statement?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; Welnox stands for barrier-free wellness. The W logo symbolises our core values and our three pillars. The first represents holistic wellbeing, ensuring that every product and our work environment contribute to overall societal wellness. The second, innovative excellence, reflects our commitment to quality – we have introduced unique formulations and convenient delivery formats not widely available in Pakistan, often entering the underserved segments. The third pillar, empowering lives, reflects why Welnox was launched post-Covid. In a country like Pakistan, many health issues can be prevented with a proactive holistic approach to wellbeing – physical, emotional, psychological and financial. Preventive care reduces the need for reactive treatments, and Covid highlighted the urgent need for greater wellness awareness and access. The impact of the pandemic might have been less severe had there been more awareness of – and access to – wellness products. This is why proactive health management is central to our mission. We promote wellbeing through sessions on physical, financial and emotional health. These sessions provide valuable insights, followed by actionable steps, such as inviting banking experts after financial wellbeing sessions to help employees navigate investments. We launched ‘Eves’ – a six-month programme for working women between 28 and 36 who are navigating key life transitions like marriage or motherhood, helping them to assess their career progress and options. We introduced ‘She Returns’ for women re-entering the workforce, offering project-based work with the potential for permanent positions.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What product categories fall under Welnox and which ones are the most popular?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; In order to build a strong financial foundation, Welnox acquired the established pain management product Wintogeno and introduced two new products: VintoMaxx cream for muscle fatigue and Vintojet spray for targeted relief. In addition to pain management, we offer products across seven categories: coughs and colds, digestive wellness, personal care, burn and wound care, supplements, health and hygiene, and kids care. In personal care, we launched Shedd, a mosquito repellent suitable for infants and pregnant and breastfeeding women. We are also developing an OTC burn and wound product from a unique honey extract and expanding our personal care portfolio.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: Are the raw materials local or imported, and are the formulations locally developed? What quality control measures are in place?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; We prioritise local sourcing when the materials and packaging meet our quality standards. R&amp;amp;D for most formulations is done in Pakistan. For pharmaceutical and nutraceutical products (derived from food sources but extending benefits beyond basic nutrition), we adhere to strict quality standards and follow R&amp;amp;D-set manufacturing guidelines. Our medical, compliance, business development, marketing and supply chain teams participate in product pitch meetings to evaluate international reference products, focusing on local adaptation, market demand and financial viability.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How does Welnox incorporate sustainability into its product packaging and sourcing?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; Sustainability depends on the product, but we prioritise recyclable packaging and local raw materials where possible, without compromising on quality. For safety-critical products like Shedd, we use specialised materials like Merck Germany’s patented ingredient. We have also integrated solar power in manufacturing to reduce our carbon footprint.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: Are these products OTC?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; They are OTC and HOTC non-prescription products, available at pharmacies and at major retail stores and supermarkets. Globally, they don’t require prescriptions, and the same applies here.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: Who is your target audience?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; Our primary audience is individuals aged 40 and below. They are more aware of wellness and more proactive about their health and often influence the older generations. Previously, wellness products were either unavailable in Pakistan or imported and priced beyond the reach of the average consumer. The target audience varies from category to category. For example, in pain management, we brought in a legacy product – Wintogeno – that was previously earmarked for the 45+ age group. We brought in variants that targeted young, on-the-go consumers, ensuring that our pain management portfolio has something for everyone. In the next stage, we will focus on expanding our geographical reach. We are committed to making wellness accessible and affordable to the average consumer. Some products, like single-pack cough lozenges at Rs 10, target SECs B and C, while others cater to SECs A and B. We are working in a third world country and we need to work within the ecosystem while maintaining financial viability.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How do you see the competitive landscape of wellness products in Pakistan evolving and how does Welnox differentiate itself from them?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; Many major players in the market are globally recognised, but they are not locally grown and often cater to upper SECs. As a Pakistani-grown brand, Martin Dow is focused on serving the local population and prioritising wellness – an area often overlooked even by locally grown entities. We have identified key market gaps where we can make a meaningful impact. What sets us apart is our product quality, focus on wellness awareness and convenient delivery formats.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How do you promote Welnox?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; Our strategy varies by product, audience and sales goals. Mass-market items rely on OOH advertising, while specialised products, like supplements, need targeted launches involving events with influencers, chemists, distributors, retailers and pharmacy chains. We typically use two to three media channels, with digital as a constant across all campaigns and support many products with on-ground activities to boost awareness.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How do you see the future of Welnox in Pakistan? Are there any new products or product categories in the pipeline?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AA:&lt;/strong&gt; Welnox is the MD’s priority and we are focused on filling a market gap. Our data-driven approach will help us assess product acceptance, manufacturing sustainability, and supply chain profitability. In terms of portfolio enhancement, we are going back to our roots of natural and herbal ingredients like ashwagandha, shilajit, aloe vera and herbal extracts. While the delivery form is still being decided, we are developing a range of prebiotics, probiotics, and postbiotics for proactive care.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>SADIA KAMRAN:</strong> WHAT PRECISELY IS THE ROLE OF A CHIEF GROWTH OFFICER?</p>
<p><strong>ANUM AKHAI:</strong> I joined Martin Dow in 2018 as executive director in the business development department. The department is the growth engine of the entity as all the new products we bring in, whether for the local or the international market, are driven from there. It was a great learning opportunity as the department deals with a lot of internal and external stakeholders; R&amp;D, supply chain, regulatory, finance and so on. I then became the group director of business growth and strategy, and now serve as chief growth officer. I am on the board of the company and work closely with our chairman and CEO on growth strategy, overseeing diversification, acquisitions, divestments and portfolio development. In October 2023, after analysing global and local trends, we recognised that this was the right time to launch a new entity under the Martin Dow Group. The initiative focused on building a portfolio centred on Health OTC (HOTC) such as supplements and insect repellents; non-prescription consumer products that are preventative and proactive. In April 2024, we introduced Welnox.</p>
<p><strong>SK: Why was 2024 considered to be the right time to launch Welnox? How does the brand aim to make “wellness a joyful, every day journey”, as stated in its mission statement?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> Welnox stands for barrier-free wellness. The W logo symbolises our core values and our three pillars. The first represents holistic wellbeing, ensuring that every product and our work environment contribute to overall societal wellness. The second, innovative excellence, reflects our commitment to quality – we have introduced unique formulations and convenient delivery formats not widely available in Pakistan, often entering the underserved segments. The third pillar, empowering lives, reflects why Welnox was launched post-Covid. In a country like Pakistan, many health issues can be prevented with a proactive holistic approach to wellbeing – physical, emotional, psychological and financial. Preventive care reduces the need for reactive treatments, and Covid highlighted the urgent need for greater wellness awareness and access. The impact of the pandemic might have been less severe had there been more awareness of – and access to – wellness products. This is why proactive health management is central to our mission. We promote wellbeing through sessions on physical, financial and emotional health. These sessions provide valuable insights, followed by actionable steps, such as inviting banking experts after financial wellbeing sessions to help employees navigate investments. We launched ‘Eves’ – a six-month programme for working women between 28 and 36 who are navigating key life transitions like marriage or motherhood, helping them to assess their career progress and options. We introduced ‘She Returns’ for women re-entering the workforce, offering project-based work with the potential for permanent positions.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What product categories fall under Welnox and which ones are the most popular?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> In order to build a strong financial foundation, Welnox acquired the established pain management product Wintogeno and introduced two new products: VintoMaxx cream for muscle fatigue and Vintojet spray for targeted relief. In addition to pain management, we offer products across seven categories: coughs and colds, digestive wellness, personal care, burn and wound care, supplements, health and hygiene, and kids care. In personal care, we launched Shedd, a mosquito repellent suitable for infants and pregnant and breastfeeding women. We are also developing an OTC burn and wound product from a unique honey extract and expanding our personal care portfolio.</p>
<p><strong>SK: Are the raw materials local or imported, and are the formulations locally developed? What quality control measures are in place?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> We prioritise local sourcing when the materials and packaging meet our quality standards. R&amp;D for most formulations is done in Pakistan. For pharmaceutical and nutraceutical products (derived from food sources but extending benefits beyond basic nutrition), we adhere to strict quality standards and follow R&amp;D-set manufacturing guidelines. Our medical, compliance, business development, marketing and supply chain teams participate in product pitch meetings to evaluate international reference products, focusing on local adaptation, market demand and financial viability.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How does Welnox incorporate sustainability into its product packaging and sourcing?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> Sustainability depends on the product, but we prioritise recyclable packaging and local raw materials where possible, without compromising on quality. For safety-critical products like Shedd, we use specialised materials like Merck Germany’s patented ingredient. We have also integrated solar power in manufacturing to reduce our carbon footprint.</p>
<p><strong>SK: Are these products OTC?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> They are OTC and HOTC non-prescription products, available at pharmacies and at major retail stores and supermarkets. Globally, they don’t require prescriptions, and the same applies here.</p>
<p><strong>SK: Who is your target audience?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> Our primary audience is individuals aged 40 and below. They are more aware of wellness and more proactive about their health and often influence the older generations. Previously, wellness products were either unavailable in Pakistan or imported and priced beyond the reach of the average consumer. The target audience varies from category to category. For example, in pain management, we brought in a legacy product – Wintogeno – that was previously earmarked for the 45+ age group. We brought in variants that targeted young, on-the-go consumers, ensuring that our pain management portfolio has something for everyone. In the next stage, we will focus on expanding our geographical reach. We are committed to making wellness accessible and affordable to the average consumer. Some products, like single-pack cough lozenges at Rs 10, target SECs B and C, while others cater to SECs A and B. We are working in a third world country and we need to work within the ecosystem while maintaining financial viability.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How do you see the competitive landscape of wellness products in Pakistan evolving and how does Welnox differentiate itself from them?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> Many major players in the market are globally recognised, but they are not locally grown and often cater to upper SECs. As a Pakistani-grown brand, Martin Dow is focused on serving the local population and prioritising wellness – an area often overlooked even by locally grown entities. We have identified key market gaps where we can make a meaningful impact. What sets us apart is our product quality, focus on wellness awareness and convenient delivery formats.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How do you promote Welnox?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> Our strategy varies by product, audience and sales goals. Mass-market items rely on OOH advertising, while specialised products, like supplements, need targeted launches involving events with influencers, chemists, distributors, retailers and pharmacy chains. We typically use two to three media channels, with digital as a constant across all campaigns and support many products with on-ground activities to boost awareness.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How do you see the future of Welnox in Pakistan? Are there any new products or product categories in the pipeline?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AA:</strong> Welnox is the MD’s priority and we are focused on filling a market gap. Our data-driven approach will help us assess product acceptance, manufacturing sustainability, and supply chain profitability. In terms of portfolio enhancement, we are going back to our roots of natural and herbal ingredients like ashwagandha, shilajit, aloe vera and herbal extracts. While the delivery form is still being decided, we are developing a range of prebiotics, probiotics, and postbiotics for proactive care.</p>
<p>For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145494</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 02 May 2025 11:08:28 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Sadia Kamran)</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/04/251202286e7b6c7.jpg?r=120235" type="image/jpeg" medium="image" height="450" width="800">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/04/251202286e7b6c7.jpg?r=120235"/>
        <media:title/>
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      <title>The Season Chaser</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145478/the-season-chaser</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;Under the mottled shine of sunlight filtering through the trees, at about 10,000 feet above sea level, live the fragrant, suede-green marjoram leaves. Their sweet perfume mixes with the glacial wind as you crush them between your fingers.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Marjoram in Pakistan? Yes. Along with wild thyme, juniper, rosehip and sea buckthorn.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;We know so little about our country and the array of seasonal produce that is available – most ingredients remain on the fringes of the food chain.
To learn about this, I set myself a goal. To organise culinary retreats and learn about the ingredients in Pakistan and, as a result, learn about the correlation of seasonality and geography. When this idea was just a seed in my mind, I often asked myself: Where do I start?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I often shared my vision with like-minded people at dinner tables. This one time, I got lucky and spoke to a young aspiring entrepreneur, Sobia, who had just begun operating a lodge in Gulmit, in upper Hunza. We decided to give it a go. A classic case of ‘let’s mess around and find out’.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hunza was this elusive place in my mind, primarily because I had not been there before. I had only seen striking images and heard ample stories of wonder. I felt the excitement building up.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;So in August 2023, I packed up and commenced my journey from down south below the sea level to the north.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I had visited other mountain regions in Pakistan before: Swat, Mansehra and even Chitral (upper Chitral too), so I was under the preconception that I had seen mountains in Pakistan. Boy, was I wrong.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The gargantuan scale of the Karakoram range hits you at every meandering turn of the highway. There are moments of your day when you are standing by the river and the enormity of the place strikes you. It’s a humbling experience to feel like a speck in real-time.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;So, what happens at the culinary retreat? The idea is to understand a specific terrain, examine what ingredients are available, use that information and distil it to form a menu. This allows me, as a cook, along with the guests, to be locked into the here and now. You are signing up to experience the culinary prowess of nature in northern Pakistan expressed through the hands of a cook. Nature is the greatest artist; we are merely vessels piecing the puzzle together.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The retreats span five days, with activities planned around getting together by the table and nourishing ourselves. We visit farms, orchards, lakes and local artisans. There is even a cooking class on one of the days!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Currently, I am in Karachi. Sitting under the faded March sun, reflecting on the fleeting experience, which I am grateful to have curated four times since it all began.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;What does a day in my life organising these retreats look like?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Well, I go a few days in advance so I can start preparation. I meet farmers and scout orchards to optimise the experience for my guests. The idea is to get a feel for the season before I start any planning. It’s a primordial soup of ideas cooking up in my mind until I sit down and start writing the menus, purchase lists and prep lists.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I usually make a trip down to the market in Aliabad to secure all my grocery essentials. I stock up, feed my sourdough starter and brainstorm recipe ideas. Most of the good ideas come at the last minute when I least expect them. I also go down the river at the lodge to meditate and check the temperature of the river water to plan potential cold plunge activities. I don’t want to bore you with all the mundane details, but I would like to mention snapshots from the different seasons.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Post Spring:&lt;/strong&gt; Imagine walking in an orchard and seeing plump red cherry clusters dangling under the soft sun. I felt a childlike wonder; they looked like polished rubies hanging from the tree.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/04/22151644a1fa146.jpg?r=152731'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;We picked up several cherries in our tote bags and took them back to the kitchen. After removing the seeds, I used the cherries to make a bright compote. Here is the recipe.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Pitted cherries: 500 grams. Sugar: 100 grams. Cornstarch: 30 grams. Mix all the ingredients above in a cold saucepan and bring up the heat gradually. Add the ingredients below after the cornstarch has thickened. Lemon/fruit vinegar: one to two tablespoons and a pinch of salt. The cherry compote can be used for breakfast, cakes, pastries and other desserts.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I used the compote to make a cake inspired by the cherry orchard. I let the cherry compote ferment slightly so it had a deeper character and funk. I soaked a chocolate sponge with some bitter coffee and layered it with the fermented cherry compote and whipped cream. I gave it a rough finish and dotted beautiful cherries on top. You can see her in the picture above.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Summer:&lt;/strong&gt; Picture sunburst red plums and juicy orange-blushed apricots growing sweet on trees in the summer heat. They taste like nothing I have tasted before. There is something magical about plucking fresh fruit, sinking your teeth in and letting the juice drip down your chin – savouring every bite. I used those apricots and plums to make cakes, crepes and even a sauce to accompany yak steaks.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;One of my favourites from this season was the apricot and sea buckthorn tart. I used a buttery tart shell, blind-baked it until crisp and golden, piped in a vanilla bean custard and topped it with apricots macerated with sugar and sea buckthorn. The sugar gave the apricots a light glaze. It was the perfect summer dessert.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fall:&lt;/strong&gt; Hunza in October feels like a warm hug. The leaves start to change colour and the sunlight has a tangerine tinge. It feels like you are living inside a Hayao Miyazaki film. Crisp apples ripen on trees as far as the eye can see. Big, bright and orange pumpkins also rest gently on soft earth.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I made many fall-inspired dishes, which included pumpkin focaccia, pumpkin soup with kuruth (dried mountain cheese), apple pie and tarte tatin.
The culinary retreat is a wholesome experience and I have barely scratched the surface on what goes down. You just gotta be there to truly know.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This is just a snapshot.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Dear reader, I hope you can join in someday and witness the magic.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Asad Monga is a chef, forager and videographer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>Under the mottled shine of sunlight filtering through the trees, at about 10,000 feet above sea level, live the fragrant, suede-green marjoram leaves. Their sweet perfume mixes with the glacial wind as you crush them between your fingers.</p>
<p>Marjoram in Pakistan? Yes. Along with wild thyme, juniper, rosehip and sea buckthorn.</p>
<p>We know so little about our country and the array of seasonal produce that is available – most ingredients remain on the fringes of the food chain.
To learn about this, I set myself a goal. To organise culinary retreats and learn about the ingredients in Pakistan and, as a result, learn about the correlation of seasonality and geography. When this idea was just a seed in my mind, I often asked myself: Where do I start?</p>
<p>I often shared my vision with like-minded people at dinner tables. This one time, I got lucky and spoke to a young aspiring entrepreneur, Sobia, who had just begun operating a lodge in Gulmit, in upper Hunza. We decided to give it a go. A classic case of ‘let’s mess around and find out’.</p>
<p>Hunza was this elusive place in my mind, primarily because I had not been there before. I had only seen striking images and heard ample stories of wonder. I felt the excitement building up.</p>
<p>So in August 2023, I packed up and commenced my journey from down south below the sea level to the north.</p>
<p>I had visited other mountain regions in Pakistan before: Swat, Mansehra and even Chitral (upper Chitral too), so I was under the preconception that I had seen mountains in Pakistan. Boy, was I wrong.</p>
<p>The gargantuan scale of the Karakoram range hits you at every meandering turn of the highway. There are moments of your day when you are standing by the river and the enormity of the place strikes you. It’s a humbling experience to feel like a speck in real-time.</p>
<p>So, what happens at the culinary retreat? The idea is to understand a specific terrain, examine what ingredients are available, use that information and distil it to form a menu. This allows me, as a cook, along with the guests, to be locked into the here and now. You are signing up to experience the culinary prowess of nature in northern Pakistan expressed through the hands of a cook. Nature is the greatest artist; we are merely vessels piecing the puzzle together.</p>
<p>The retreats span five days, with activities planned around getting together by the table and nourishing ourselves. We visit farms, orchards, lakes and local artisans. There is even a cooking class on one of the days!</p>
<p>Currently, I am in Karachi. Sitting under the faded March sun, reflecting on the fleeting experience, which I am grateful to have curated four times since it all began.</p>
<p>What does a day in my life organising these retreats look like?</p>
<p>Well, I go a few days in advance so I can start preparation. I meet farmers and scout orchards to optimise the experience for my guests. The idea is to get a feel for the season before I start any planning. It’s a primordial soup of ideas cooking up in my mind until I sit down and start writing the menus, purchase lists and prep lists.</p>
<p>I usually make a trip down to the market in Aliabad to secure all my grocery essentials. I stock up, feed my sourdough starter and brainstorm recipe ideas. Most of the good ideas come at the last minute when I least expect them. I also go down the river at the lodge to meditate and check the temperature of the river water to plan potential cold plunge activities. I don’t want to bore you with all the mundane details, but I would like to mention snapshots from the different seasons.</p>
<p><strong>Post Spring:</strong> Imagine walking in an orchard and seeing plump red cherry clusters dangling under the soft sun. I felt a childlike wonder; they looked like polished rubies hanging from the tree.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/04/22151644a1fa146.jpg?r=152731'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>We picked up several cherries in our tote bags and took them back to the kitchen. After removing the seeds, I used the cherries to make a bright compote. Here is the recipe.</p>
<p>Pitted cherries: 500 grams. Sugar: 100 grams. Cornstarch: 30 grams. Mix all the ingredients above in a cold saucepan and bring up the heat gradually. Add the ingredients below after the cornstarch has thickened. Lemon/fruit vinegar: one to two tablespoons and a pinch of salt. The cherry compote can be used for breakfast, cakes, pastries and other desserts.</p>
<p>I used the compote to make a cake inspired by the cherry orchard. I let the cherry compote ferment slightly so it had a deeper character and funk. I soaked a chocolate sponge with some bitter coffee and layered it with the fermented cherry compote and whipped cream. I gave it a rough finish and dotted beautiful cherries on top. You can see her in the picture above.</p>
<p><strong>Summer:</strong> Picture sunburst red plums and juicy orange-blushed apricots growing sweet on trees in the summer heat. They taste like nothing I have tasted before. There is something magical about plucking fresh fruit, sinking your teeth in and letting the juice drip down your chin – savouring every bite. I used those apricots and plums to make cakes, crepes and even a sauce to accompany yak steaks.</p>
<p>One of my favourites from this season was the apricot and sea buckthorn tart. I used a buttery tart shell, blind-baked it until crisp and golden, piped in a vanilla bean custard and topped it with apricots macerated with sugar and sea buckthorn. The sugar gave the apricots a light glaze. It was the perfect summer dessert.</p>
<p><strong>Fall:</strong> Hunza in October feels like a warm hug. The leaves start to change colour and the sunlight has a tangerine tinge. It feels like you are living inside a Hayao Miyazaki film. Crisp apples ripen on trees as far as the eye can see. Big, bright and orange pumpkins also rest gently on soft earth.</p>
<p>I made many fall-inspired dishes, which included pumpkin focaccia, pumpkin soup with kuruth (dried mountain cheese), apple pie and tarte tatin.
The culinary retreat is a wholesome experience and I have barely scratched the surface on what goes down. You just gotta be there to truly know.</p>
<p>This is just a snapshot.</p>
<p>Dear reader, I hope you can join in someday and witness the magic.</p>
<p><em>Asad Monga is a chef, forager and videographer.</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145478</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 02 May 2025 14:19:29 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Asad Monga)</author>
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      <title>“Work on innovative ideas. Do something for Pakistan. Only we can do this”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145457/work-on-innovative-ideas-do-something-for-pakistan-only-we-can-do-this</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SHIZRA MANGNEJO: HOW DID YOU START YOUR SUSTAINABILITY ENDEAVOURS AND ESTABLISH YOUR OWN COMPANY?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MAHNOOR REHMAN&lt;/strong&gt;: I am an O Level student based in Islamabad, as well as the CEO and founder of BSF Inc. I started BSF about two years ago when I participated in the Enterprise Challenge Pakistan, and I was selected for the regional finals. I flew to Karachi with one of my teachers and presented my idea. They liked it and I was the second runner-up. I then started to receive funding for my project, which converts food waste into sustainable chicken feed. This allowed me to establish my company.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM: What were your motivations and your reasoning for your project?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MR&lt;/strong&gt;: Our objective at ECP is to pitch business ideas which focus on positive social and environmental impact. We had to come up with a sustainable idea. I thought back about when I used to go to the market with my dad in Rawalpindi, and I saw a lot of food waste there. To tackle this problem, I had the idea of collecting food waste and feeding it to black soldier fly larvae. This would eradicate the problem of food waste, and the by-product – larvae – could be used as chicken feed.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM: How did it feel to receive the King’s Trusts’ International Award, and how did you benefit from it?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MR&lt;/strong&gt;: When I got to know that I won this award, I was really excited and surprised. I didn’t have any idea when I started the project that it would lead to such an amazing outcome. When I received it, I was nervous about what I was going to say. Receiving it has increased my reach; I’ve got to know more people and made new connections.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM: Do you think we need more such initiatives in Pakistan to create more awareness?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MR&lt;/strong&gt;: A lot of awareness is being spread in schools now. There are many programmes and campaigns that kids want to do themselves. But one thing that stops us is support. We don’t always get it from our family members or our peers. With the right support, we can go really far. There is a lot of potential coming from young people. We can do it.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM: What small changes can be implemented to enhance sustainability?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MR&lt;/strong&gt;: During Ramzan, I tried not to have an extravagant &lt;em&gt;iftar&lt;/em&gt;. I mean, have a simple &lt;em&gt;iftar&lt;/em&gt;, eat simple food, because otherwise we generate a lot of leftovers and wastage. For Eid, we don’t need to buy new and expensive clothes that we wear only once and may never touch again. Spend wisely. Take care of your income.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM: To what extent has your education steered you towards your ideas around sustainability?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MR&lt;/strong&gt;: I used to spend nights researching about how to make low-waste products, where to get them made, and what to do with them – and although I did this alone, the schools I attended, the teachers I had, and the friends I made, have all played a big role in this. They supported me throughout. At school, there were a lot of campaigns and special lessons regarding sustainability and environmentally friendly practices. My parents know a lot about the importance of sustainability, and they passed that information down to me. Their influence led me to my ideas.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM: What plans are you thinking about?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MR&lt;/strong&gt;: I plan to produce another product, which is chitosan. It is extracted from cocoons and made from the first stage of larvae from the shell of crustaceans, and is used a lot by pharmaceutical companies. So, it’s a very big industry. I plan on taking it to a global level, so that it can be produced everywhere. I also want to take the decomposition of food waste to more developing countries and teach them the process of decomposition, and provide the tools to do it. I am also planning to open a football club for girls in Pakistan; I want to play football as well.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM: What would you say to the people who are watching you and learning about sustainability?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MR&lt;/strong&gt;: I would say work on innovative ideas. Do something for Pakistan. Only we can do this. So, take risks. Work hard. Just take the first step and you will move forward. God will help you. You just need to take the first step.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Enterprise Challenge Pakistan is a King’s Trust International initiative in partnership with SEED Ventures aimed at inspiring an entrepreneurial spirit among students between 14 and 18.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>SHIZRA MANGNEJO: HOW DID YOU START YOUR SUSTAINABILITY ENDEAVOURS AND ESTABLISH YOUR OWN COMPANY?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MAHNOOR REHMAN</strong>: I am an O Level student based in Islamabad, as well as the CEO and founder of BSF Inc. I started BSF about two years ago when I participated in the Enterprise Challenge Pakistan, and I was selected for the regional finals. I flew to Karachi with one of my teachers and presented my idea. They liked it and I was the second runner-up. I then started to receive funding for my project, which converts food waste into sustainable chicken feed. This allowed me to establish my company.</p>
<p><strong>SM: What were your motivations and your reasoning for your project?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MR</strong>: Our objective at ECP is to pitch business ideas which focus on positive social and environmental impact. We had to come up with a sustainable idea. I thought back about when I used to go to the market with my dad in Rawalpindi, and I saw a lot of food waste there. To tackle this problem, I had the idea of collecting food waste and feeding it to black soldier fly larvae. This would eradicate the problem of food waste, and the by-product – larvae – could be used as chicken feed.</p>
<p><strong>SM: How did it feel to receive the King’s Trusts’ International Award, and how did you benefit from it?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MR</strong>: When I got to know that I won this award, I was really excited and surprised. I didn’t have any idea when I started the project that it would lead to such an amazing outcome. When I received it, I was nervous about what I was going to say. Receiving it has increased my reach; I’ve got to know more people and made new connections.</p>
<p><strong>SM: Do you think we need more such initiatives in Pakistan to create more awareness?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MR</strong>: A lot of awareness is being spread in schools now. There are many programmes and campaigns that kids want to do themselves. But one thing that stops us is support. We don’t always get it from our family members or our peers. With the right support, we can go really far. There is a lot of potential coming from young people. We can do it.</p>
<p><strong>SM: What small changes can be implemented to enhance sustainability?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MR</strong>: During Ramzan, I tried not to have an extravagant <em>iftar</em>. I mean, have a simple <em>iftar</em>, eat simple food, because otherwise we generate a lot of leftovers and wastage. For Eid, we don’t need to buy new and expensive clothes that we wear only once and may never touch again. Spend wisely. Take care of your income.</p>
<p><strong>SM: To what extent has your education steered you towards your ideas around sustainability?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MR</strong>: I used to spend nights researching about how to make low-waste products, where to get them made, and what to do with them – and although I did this alone, the schools I attended, the teachers I had, and the friends I made, have all played a big role in this. They supported me throughout. At school, there were a lot of campaigns and special lessons regarding sustainability and environmentally friendly practices. My parents know a lot about the importance of sustainability, and they passed that information down to me. Their influence led me to my ideas.</p>
<p><strong>SM: What plans are you thinking about?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MR</strong>: I plan to produce another product, which is chitosan. It is extracted from cocoons and made from the first stage of larvae from the shell of crustaceans, and is used a lot by pharmaceutical companies. So, it’s a very big industry. I plan on taking it to a global level, so that it can be produced everywhere. I also want to take the decomposition of food waste to more developing countries and teach them the process of decomposition, and provide the tools to do it. I am also planning to open a football club for girls in Pakistan; I want to play football as well.</p>
<p><strong>SM: What would you say to the people who are watching you and learning about sustainability?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MR</strong>: I would say work on innovative ideas. Do something for Pakistan. Only we can do this. So, take risks. Work hard. Just take the first step and you will move forward. God will help you. You just need to take the first step.</p>
<p><em>Enterprise Challenge Pakistan is a King’s Trust International initiative in partnership with SEED Ventures aimed at inspiring an entrepreneurial spirit among students between 14 and 18.</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145457</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 11 Apr 2025 11:53:10 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Shizra Mangnejo)</author>
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      <title>Honouring Javed Jabbar, Sana Hashwani &amp; Safinaz Muneer and Muneeza Shamsie</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145449/honouring-javed-jabbar-sana-hashwani-amp-safinaz-muneer-and-muneeza-shamsie</link>
      <description>&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="javed-jabbar" href="#javed-jabbar" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #FF5733; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;Javed Jabbar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1142829"&gt;&lt;img src="https://i.dawn.com/primary/2017/12/5a37f596e12a1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1142829"&gt;Interview with Javed Jabbar, Pakistan’s most influential ad man&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="safinaz-muneer-and-sana-hashwani" href="#safinaz-muneer-and-sana-hashwani" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #FF5733; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;Safinaz Muneer and Sana Hashwani&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1141319"&gt;&lt;img src="https://i.dawn.com/primary/2015/12/565f4e7cb9552.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1141319"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Interview with Sana Hashwani and Safinaz Muneer, founders of Sana Safinaz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="muneeze-shamsie" href="#muneeze-shamsie" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #FF5733; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;Muneeze Shamsie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145317"&gt;&lt;img src="https://i.dawn.com/primary/2025/01/0817295221fa3f5.png"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145317/pakistani-writing-in-english-has-a-much-wider-perspective-than-most-people-credit-it-for"&gt;Interview with Muneeze Shamsie, writer, critic, literary journalist, bibliographer and editor&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<h4><a id="javed-jabbar" href="#javed-jabbar" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #FF5733; text-align: left;" markdown="1">Javed Jabbar</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p><a href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1142829"><img src="https://i.dawn.com/primary/2017/12/5a37f596e12a1.jpg"></a></p>
<p><strong><a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1142829">Interview with Javed Jabbar, Pakistan’s most influential ad man</a></strong></p>
<h4><a id="safinaz-muneer-and-sana-hashwani" href="#safinaz-muneer-and-sana-hashwani" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #FF5733; text-align: left;" markdown="1">Safinaz Muneer and Sana Hashwani</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p><a href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1141319"><img src="https://i.dawn.com/primary/2015/12/565f4e7cb9552.jpg"></a></p>
<p><a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1141319"><strong>Interview with Sana Hashwani and Safinaz Muneer, founders of Sana Safinaz</strong></a></p>
<h4><a id="muneeze-shamsie" href="#muneeze-shamsie" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #FF5733; text-align: left;" markdown="1">Muneeze Shamsie</strong></h4>
<p><a href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145317"><img src="https://i.dawn.com/primary/2025/01/0817295221fa3f5.png"></a></p>
<p><strong><a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145317/pakistani-writing-in-english-has-a-much-wider-perspective-than-most-people-credit-it-for">Interview with Muneeze Shamsie, writer, critic, literary journalist, bibliographer and editor</a></strong></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145449</guid>
      <pubDate>Wed, 26 Mar 2025 09:50:23 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Aurora)</author>
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      <title>“The boldest clients are those who let people play with their brands”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145425/the-boldest-clients-are-those-who-let-people-play-with-their-brands</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SOPHIA KHAN: In your experience, as former CMO of the Royal Bank of Scotland and having held senior positions at other blue-chip companies, what has been the impact of the current changes in media consumption habits?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DAVID WHELDON:&lt;/strong&gt; We haven’t had a flourishing of creativity. Sir John Hegarty is very good on this subject and has, on several occasions, spoken about the arrival of the printing press and the reception of the printed word. When radio arrived, it was pronounced to be the death of newspapers and similarly, when TV arrived, it was the death of radio and so on. What actually happened was that initially the creativity in the new emerging media was dreadful. With time, people got the hang of it and it became rather good. However, Sir John explains that people have not learnt how to do great creativity in the new context. What does great creativity look like for an avid TikTok user and how do you reach them effectively? I think there is some wonderful creativity on TikTok, and most of it is generated by users and not brands. The boldest clients are those who let people play with their brands. It’s a great time to be a marketer because there’s so much to learn and so much to be curious about.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: In this context, how has advertising evolved?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DW:&lt;/strong&gt; When I started in the world of marketing, there were only three TV channels in the UK – today there are thousands. There were no mobile phones and no internet. The world has changed exponentially since, but when you look at it through the lens of marketing and advertising, all that has actually changed is the number of channels available and the speed of the feedback loop. Responses, good or bad, are now immediate. If I say something inappropriate now, you could put it on X and I would be cancelled by the end of this sentence; that’s how fast the feedback loop is. The initial promise sold to us was that the digitisation of channels would enable better personalisation and delivery of marketing messages. This is untrue, as only six to eight percent of advertising is effective and achieves what it sets out to do – this is a terrifying wastage of the other 92%. What one really needs to pay attention to is: are you delivering a message that is useful to Gen Z and is the product you are marketing going to help them? Because if you are not, you are wasting their time.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What does the shift to digital mean for advertisers in terms of reaching their target consumers?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DW:&lt;/strong&gt; Everyone wants to speed up the complete transition to digital, but they don’t always want to justify the spending. However, in many developing countries, and especially in Pakistan, people still watch a lot of TV. People are still reliant on TV, radio and print, and they are still very viable mediums. Even in the developed world, the data shows that you need a healthy media mix to reach your audience. How do you build a brand long-term? You do that by using a healthy media mix.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: In a speech at an Incorporated Society of British Advertisers (ISBA) event in 2016, you said, “I am fiercely proud of the marketing profession. Marketing does all sorts of things for society that aren’t acknowledged and it is often not taken as seriously as it should be.” Do you still hold that view?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DW:&lt;/strong&gt; I still think that’s true. If you look at some of the public service messages globally, marketing has been really effective in that regard. In the UK, there was a significant drunk driving problem in the eighties, with people driving themselves from parties completely inebriated. Most people don’t do that now. They have been convinced not to do so by effective and impactful marketing that shifted societal attitudes. Marketing can be used to accomplish all sorts of things.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What leadership qualities do you think are essential for success in the marketing and advertising industry?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DW:&lt;/strong&gt; I would say a mix of technical and soft skills; the more senior you are, the more you depend on building the right team of people, giving them a clear vision as well as the space to operate and deliver. This includes being cognisant of the expectations of the people working with you and having clarity about what you are trying to do. How do you help everybody achieve their goals and keep them focused? Another important quality is being empathetic towards people and understanding their circumstances while keeping them on task. A true leader is adept at collaborating and knows how to get the best out of people. Such a person leads with their eyes wide open and their paranoid antennae looking out for problems.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: How can advertisers innovate to stay relevant and effective?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DW:&lt;/strong&gt; Investing money wisely is the first big challenge. You have to take a deep breath and think hard about your ROI and set yourself up for success. It’s important to know when to pivot when something is not working and adapt accordingly. Sometimes this translates to being more slow and deliberate about what you do, which is an odd thing to say because the world is becoming faster. The marketing world loves to rush, but the best concepts are hatched after they are slow-cooked and simmered.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What inspired you to launch the &lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://wfanet.org/knowledge/better-marketing-pod-with-david-wheldon/about-the-podcast"&gt;‘Better Marketing’ podcast&lt;/a&gt; with the WFA?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DW:&lt;/strong&gt; I have realised in my career that quite often people are generous with their time and their learning. The idea was to talk to people in the advertising space and have them tell their stories. See what they have to share, especially things that will help people learn about better marketing. It’s always nice to hear a lot of the things I believe about marketing and advertising (in my own bubble) reinforced by other people. So there is a fair bit of that and it’s also nice to have a challenge.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SK: What prompted you to gravitate towards training and speaking, and how are you enjoying this change?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DW:&lt;/strong&gt; I really enjoy mentoring and coaching, imparting what I have learnt over the course of my career. One of the reasons I am very happy to speak on different platforms is because I am not afraid of saying what I think, whether it’s good, bad or indifferent. I am also not afraid of challenging people, and I think there is a need for that in the industry right now. I stumbled into this courtesy of the pandemic, when I stepped down from full-time work. The most important thing is I now own my own time and plan my own time, which means I can travel a lot with my wonderful soulmate and wife.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Published in Aurora’s November-December ’24 issue.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>SOPHIA KHAN: In your experience, as former CMO of the Royal Bank of Scotland and having held senior positions at other blue-chip companies, what has been the impact of the current changes in media consumption habits?</strong></p>
<p><strong>DAVID WHELDON:</strong> We haven’t had a flourishing of creativity. Sir John Hegarty is very good on this subject and has, on several occasions, spoken about the arrival of the printing press and the reception of the printed word. When radio arrived, it was pronounced to be the death of newspapers and similarly, when TV arrived, it was the death of radio and so on. What actually happened was that initially the creativity in the new emerging media was dreadful. With time, people got the hang of it and it became rather good. However, Sir John explains that people have not learnt how to do great creativity in the new context. What does great creativity look like for an avid TikTok user and how do you reach them effectively? I think there is some wonderful creativity on TikTok, and most of it is generated by users and not brands. The boldest clients are those who let people play with their brands. It’s a great time to be a marketer because there’s so much to learn and so much to be curious about.</p>
<p><strong>SK: In this context, how has advertising evolved?</strong></p>
<p><strong>DW:</strong> When I started in the world of marketing, there were only three TV channels in the UK – today there are thousands. There were no mobile phones and no internet. The world has changed exponentially since, but when you look at it through the lens of marketing and advertising, all that has actually changed is the number of channels available and the speed of the feedback loop. Responses, good or bad, are now immediate. If I say something inappropriate now, you could put it on X and I would be cancelled by the end of this sentence; that’s how fast the feedback loop is. The initial promise sold to us was that the digitisation of channels would enable better personalisation and delivery of marketing messages. This is untrue, as only six to eight percent of advertising is effective and achieves what it sets out to do – this is a terrifying wastage of the other 92%. What one really needs to pay attention to is: are you delivering a message that is useful to Gen Z and is the product you are marketing going to help them? Because if you are not, you are wasting their time.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What does the shift to digital mean for advertisers in terms of reaching their target consumers?</strong></p>
<p><strong>DW:</strong> Everyone wants to speed up the complete transition to digital, but they don’t always want to justify the spending. However, in many developing countries, and especially in Pakistan, people still watch a lot of TV. People are still reliant on TV, radio and print, and they are still very viable mediums. Even in the developed world, the data shows that you need a healthy media mix to reach your audience. How do you build a brand long-term? You do that by using a healthy media mix.</p>
<p><strong>SK: In a speech at an Incorporated Society of British Advertisers (ISBA) event in 2016, you said, “I am fiercely proud of the marketing profession. Marketing does all sorts of things for society that aren’t acknowledged and it is often not taken as seriously as it should be.” Do you still hold that view?</strong></p>
<p><strong>DW:</strong> I still think that’s true. If you look at some of the public service messages globally, marketing has been really effective in that regard. In the UK, there was a significant drunk driving problem in the eighties, with people driving themselves from parties completely inebriated. Most people don’t do that now. They have been convinced not to do so by effective and impactful marketing that shifted societal attitudes. Marketing can be used to accomplish all sorts of things.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What leadership qualities do you think are essential for success in the marketing and advertising industry?</strong></p>
<p><strong>DW:</strong> I would say a mix of technical and soft skills; the more senior you are, the more you depend on building the right team of people, giving them a clear vision as well as the space to operate and deliver. This includes being cognisant of the expectations of the people working with you and having clarity about what you are trying to do. How do you help everybody achieve their goals and keep them focused? Another important quality is being empathetic towards people and understanding their circumstances while keeping them on task. A true leader is adept at collaborating and knows how to get the best out of people. Such a person leads with their eyes wide open and their paranoid antennae looking out for problems.</p>
<p><strong>SK: How can advertisers innovate to stay relevant and effective?</strong></p>
<p><strong>DW:</strong> Investing money wisely is the first big challenge. You have to take a deep breath and think hard about your ROI and set yourself up for success. It’s important to know when to pivot when something is not working and adapt accordingly. Sometimes this translates to being more slow and deliberate about what you do, which is an odd thing to say because the world is becoming faster. The marketing world loves to rush, but the best concepts are hatched after they are slow-cooked and simmered.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What inspired you to launch the <a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://wfanet.org/knowledge/better-marketing-pod-with-david-wheldon/about-the-podcast">‘Better Marketing’ podcast</a> with the WFA?</strong></p>
<p><strong>DW:</strong> I have realised in my career that quite often people are generous with their time and their learning. The idea was to talk to people in the advertising space and have them tell their stories. See what they have to share, especially things that will help people learn about better marketing. It’s always nice to hear a lot of the things I believe about marketing and advertising (in my own bubble) reinforced by other people. So there is a fair bit of that and it’s also nice to have a challenge.</p>
<p><strong>SK: What prompted you to gravitate towards training and speaking, and how are you enjoying this change?</strong></p>
<p><strong>DW:</strong> I really enjoy mentoring and coaching, imparting what I have learnt over the course of my career. One of the reasons I am very happy to speak on different platforms is because I am not afraid of saying what I think, whether it’s good, bad or indifferent. I am also not afraid of challenging people, and I think there is a need for that in the industry right now. I stumbled into this courtesy of the pandemic, when I stepped down from full-time work. The most important thing is I now own my own time and plan my own time, which means I can travel a lot with my wonderful soulmate and wife.</p>
<p><em>For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></em></p>
<p><em>Published in Aurora’s November-December ’24 issue.</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145425</guid>
      <pubDate>Thu, 13 Mar 2025 14:18:20 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Sophia Khan)</author>
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      <title>“I am a British Pakistani and a Muslim woman from a working-class background. All these aspects inform my work”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145386/i-am-a-british-pakistani-and-a-muslim-woman-from-a-working-class-background-all-these-aspects-inform-my-work</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MAMUN M. ADIL: What does receiving the Kathy Gannon Award mean to you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SAIMA MOHSIN:&lt;/strong&gt; On a professional level, it means a great deal, as despite working as a journalist for nearly 30 years, I have never won an individual award for my work – although I have been part of an award-winning team. The award gave me validation and made me feel both respected and recognised. It also means a lot because it is named after Kathy Gannon whom I respect very much. On a personal level, the award signified that my peers respect my work, which meant a lot for my self-esteem – it took quite a battering after the injury I suffered while working for CNN in Jerusalem. Ultimately, receiving the award has given me renewed vigour in a way I did not anticipate. It made me think that I was on the right path and I did the right thing by returning to TV. It has encouraged me to carry on doing what I do.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: How are the recipients selected?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; This award is unique in that people do not enter for it. I didn’t know I had won it until the winners were announced, which made it all the more special.  Senior people in the industry nominated people and various rounds of judging took place before the final selection.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: Which aspects of your work do you think the award recognised?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; I think The Coalition For Women In Journalism recognised my body of work and the fact that, like Kathy Gannon, I care about the countries I have worked in and the people who live there. The presentation stated that I go beyond the headlines and statistics and think about people with empathy. I think they recognised my integrity and principles. How I conduct myself as a journalist, support people in the newsroom and mentor young people. Finally, I think they kept in mind the fact that my battle [with CNN] after my injury was not just for myself but for other journalists who suffer injuries in the field as well and spoke up despite the damage it could have done. In our industry, people who speak out can become pariahs.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: You sued CNN for unfair dismissal and racial discrimination. What is the status of the case?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; A personal injury case with CNN was settled before Covid-19. The case for unfair dismissal is still in the courts and I am pursuing it as a matter of principle because journalists injured in the field should be able to continue to work, and there are a lot of journalists who have suffered various injuries and have disabilities, and if they can continue to work, why couldn’t I? I could have done so had I received the right kind of support.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: What differentiates you from other journalists in the way you approach your work?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; I bring my unique character, upbringing and background to my work. I was raised by my mother, who was a survivor of Partition, and immigrated from India to Pakistan and then to the UK. She was a widow and raised my siblings and I on her own. I am a British Pakistani and a Muslim woman from a working-class background. All these aspects inform my work.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: How do you apply these life experiences to your work?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; I bring a certain level of empathy towards people. I don’t have a cookie-cutter, one-size-fits-all approach. I spend time trying to understand situations and people and do my best to explain what is really going on. I have covered stories in 28 countries and spent a considerable amount of time understanding the people in those countries.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: Which stories are the most memorable?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; I am not saying this because I am speaking to Aurora, but the time that I worked in Pakistan was significant for me. I worked at DawnNews from 2007 to 2010 and then as a special correspondent for PBS’ &lt;em&gt;Newshour&lt;/em&gt; for a year. I left Pakistan to work for Channel 4, but returned in 2012 to report for Channel 4, PBS and CNN. I joined CNN initially as Pakistan’s correspondent in 2013 and then as an international correspondent from 2014 to 2017. I was at DawnNews when the channel was launched and it formed my character as a leader and an editor and informed my editorial stance. It was the first time I worked somewhere where my idealism about being a journalist was realised because I could see that my work was making a real impact. Conversations in the National Assembly took place because of the stories we covered and people discussed them as did the print media. I am very proud of what my team and DawnNews as a whole achieved. The channel changed the media landscape in Pakistan in terms of how journalism was done. Before that, there was more emphasis on infotainment and debates – discussions that went nowhere – while we covered stories in depth and followed them up with interviews with individuals and asked for accountability.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: Which other memorable stories come to mind?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; Covering Malaysia Airlines Flight 370, the missing plane – it was a unique mystery, a story that comes around once in a lifetime. Others include the Rohingya Muslim crisis in Myanmar and the refugee crises in Europe in later years.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: What does your work at Sky News entail?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Sky News Today with Saima Mohsin&lt;/em&gt; airs on weekends from two to three in the afternoon. I often step in to cover the news hour, but because of my injury, I cannot work full-time. Being a presenter on a 24-hour news channel has been the most extraordinary experience of my career. I have been able to draw on my knowledge and experiences from all the countries I covered stories in.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: After being an international correspondent, does being a presenter make you feel like you are in the backseat?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; No; I may have thought that earlier, but not anymore. If you are going to be presenting, there is no better place to do it than on a 24-hour news channel that covers breaking news. It’s almost like being a correspondent. In fact, I sometimes find it a little harder because, as a presenter, you cover multiple stories within the same timeframe. I broke the news about Boris Johnson’s resignation, Nicola Sturgeon’s arrest, the Iranian President’s helicopter crash and Imran Khan’s arrest. It’s like being an international correspondent while sitting in the studio.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: Who has inspired you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; Some incredible journalists who are too many to name. However, the people I have met along the way have inspired me the most, mainly because many of them said to me that without my story, their lives would not have changed or they would not have achieved what they were fighting for. When I was injured, I thought my career was over and I wondered if I had really done anything to bring about change, and it was those people who said to me, “Saima, if you weren’t there at a certain point in time, would anyone in the world know about this story?” It made me realise that what I do is worth it.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MMA: What is next for Saima Mohsin?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SM:&lt;/strong&gt; I am at a point in life where I am very proud of my achievements. My self-esteem and self-respect are immovable now and the world is my oyster. This is the first time in my life that I have not set goals and targets for myself and it feels quite refreshing. I got married recently after a friend of 10 years reconnected with me out of the blue. So who knows what is next for Saima Mohsin? Bring it on.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>MAMUN M. ADIL: What does receiving the Kathy Gannon Award mean to you?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SAIMA MOHSIN:</strong> On a professional level, it means a great deal, as despite working as a journalist for nearly 30 years, I have never won an individual award for my work – although I have been part of an award-winning team. The award gave me validation and made me feel both respected and recognised. It also means a lot because it is named after Kathy Gannon whom I respect very much. On a personal level, the award signified that my peers respect my work, which meant a lot for my self-esteem – it took quite a battering after the injury I suffered while working for CNN in Jerusalem. Ultimately, receiving the award has given me renewed vigour in a way I did not anticipate. It made me think that I was on the right path and I did the right thing by returning to TV. It has encouraged me to carry on doing what I do.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: How are the recipients selected?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> This award is unique in that people do not enter for it. I didn’t know I had won it until the winners were announced, which made it all the more special.  Senior people in the industry nominated people and various rounds of judging took place before the final selection.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: Which aspects of your work do you think the award recognised?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> I think The Coalition For Women In Journalism recognised my body of work and the fact that, like Kathy Gannon, I care about the countries I have worked in and the people who live there. The presentation stated that I go beyond the headlines and statistics and think about people with empathy. I think they recognised my integrity and principles. How I conduct myself as a journalist, support people in the newsroom and mentor young people. Finally, I think they kept in mind the fact that my battle [with CNN] after my injury was not just for myself but for other journalists who suffer injuries in the field as well and spoke up despite the damage it could have done. In our industry, people who speak out can become pariahs.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: You sued CNN for unfair dismissal and racial discrimination. What is the status of the case?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> A personal injury case with CNN was settled before Covid-19. The case for unfair dismissal is still in the courts and I am pursuing it as a matter of principle because journalists injured in the field should be able to continue to work, and there are a lot of journalists who have suffered various injuries and have disabilities, and if they can continue to work, why couldn’t I? I could have done so had I received the right kind of support.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: What differentiates you from other journalists in the way you approach your work?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> I bring my unique character, upbringing and background to my work. I was raised by my mother, who was a survivor of Partition, and immigrated from India to Pakistan and then to the UK. She was a widow and raised my siblings and I on her own. I am a British Pakistani and a Muslim woman from a working-class background. All these aspects inform my work.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: How do you apply these life experiences to your work?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> I bring a certain level of empathy towards people. I don’t have a cookie-cutter, one-size-fits-all approach. I spend time trying to understand situations and people and do my best to explain what is really going on. I have covered stories in 28 countries and spent a considerable amount of time understanding the people in those countries.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: Which stories are the most memorable?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> I am not saying this because I am speaking to Aurora, but the time that I worked in Pakistan was significant for me. I worked at DawnNews from 2007 to 2010 and then as a special correspondent for PBS’ <em>Newshour</em> for a year. I left Pakistan to work for Channel 4, but returned in 2012 to report for Channel 4, PBS and CNN. I joined CNN initially as Pakistan’s correspondent in 2013 and then as an international correspondent from 2014 to 2017. I was at DawnNews when the channel was launched and it formed my character as a leader and an editor and informed my editorial stance. It was the first time I worked somewhere where my idealism about being a journalist was realised because I could see that my work was making a real impact. Conversations in the National Assembly took place because of the stories we covered and people discussed them as did the print media. I am very proud of what my team and DawnNews as a whole achieved. The channel changed the media landscape in Pakistan in terms of how journalism was done. Before that, there was more emphasis on infotainment and debates – discussions that went nowhere – while we covered stories in depth and followed them up with interviews with individuals and asked for accountability.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: Which other memorable stories come to mind?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> Covering Malaysia Airlines Flight 370, the missing plane – it was a unique mystery, a story that comes around once in a lifetime. Others include the Rohingya Muslim crisis in Myanmar and the refugee crises in Europe in later years.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: What does your work at Sky News entail?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> <em>Sky News Today with Saima Mohsin</em> airs on weekends from two to three in the afternoon. I often step in to cover the news hour, but because of my injury, I cannot work full-time. Being a presenter on a 24-hour news channel has been the most extraordinary experience of my career. I have been able to draw on my knowledge and experiences from all the countries I covered stories in.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: After being an international correspondent, does being a presenter make you feel like you are in the backseat?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> No; I may have thought that earlier, but not anymore. If you are going to be presenting, there is no better place to do it than on a 24-hour news channel that covers breaking news. It’s almost like being a correspondent. In fact, I sometimes find it a little harder because, as a presenter, you cover multiple stories within the same timeframe. I broke the news about Boris Johnson’s resignation, Nicola Sturgeon’s arrest, the Iranian President’s helicopter crash and Imran Khan’s arrest. It’s like being an international correspondent while sitting in the studio.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: Who has inspired you?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> Some incredible journalists who are too many to name. However, the people I have met along the way have inspired me the most, mainly because many of them said to me that without my story, their lives would not have changed or they would not have achieved what they were fighting for. When I was injured, I thought my career was over and I wondered if I had really done anything to bring about change, and it was those people who said to me, “Saima, if you weren’t there at a certain point in time, would anyone in the world know about this story?” It made me realise that what I do is worth it.</p>
<p><strong>MMA: What is next for Saima Mohsin?</strong></p>
<p><strong>SM:</strong> I am at a point in life where I am very proud of my achievements. My self-esteem and self-respect are immovable now and the world is my oyster. This is the first time in my life that I have not set goals and targets for myself and it feels quite refreshing. I got married recently after a friend of 10 years reconnected with me out of the blue. So who knows what is next for Saima Mohsin? Bring it on.</p>
<p>For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145386</guid>
      <pubDate>Mon, 10 Mar 2025 22:58:18 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Mamun M. Adil)</author>
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      <title>“Earlier, people only talked about Indian content. Now it’s about Pakistan and that is a big achievement for the industry”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145387/earlier-people-only-talked-about-indian-content-now-its-about-pakistan-and-that-is-a-big-achievement-for-the-industry</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AURORA: Let’s start with a brief background about 7th Sky Entertainment, and what it is that you bring to the table that is different from other production houses.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ASAD QURESHI:&lt;/strong&gt; 7th Sky is about making a change in the media landscape. We have been in this business for a very long time and we have seen almost all the verticals in the industry. We started 7th Sky because we felt that no one else was making content that was resonating on an emotional level with audiences.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Almost any production house will say they are making content that resonates with audiences. What is different about your content?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; When we started in private TV productions, hardly 10 or 12 dramas were being made, and of these, two to three were made by us. Life was way simpler then because we did not have social media and the multiple platforms that exist today. In those days, ratings were a debatable topic andn no one bothered much about them. Then the satellite boom happened, and all of a sudden, audiences were exposed to narratives produced in India, the UK, the US and elsewhere – and those narratives were based on a fusion that combined emotional resonance with an objective, whereas in Pakistan, we were stuck in the usual &lt;em&gt;saas-bahu&lt;/em&gt; narratives. But now Pakistani audiences could evaluate us based on what they saw on satellite TV. Producers like ourselves were no longer competing with Pakistani content, we were competing with foreign channels as well.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ABDULLAH KADWANI:&lt;/strong&gt; After the invasion of satellite TV, there was a monopoly of Indian content, and Pakistani audiences were hooked on Zee TV, Star Plus and Sony. It was a glued viewership. It was a cultural invasion and it was done very smartly. For example, Pakistani children would use words like &lt;em&gt;bhagwan&lt;/em&gt; or other concepts stemming from Hindu culture and values. This was when we realised that unless we started to produce content that resonated and engaged not only with Pakistan audiences, but had a global appeal, we would not be able to progress further.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: You mentioned content with an objective. What do you mean by that?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; A plotline. For example, when we made &lt;em&gt;Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan&lt;/em&gt;, we received a lot of appreciation not only from Pakistani audiences but from India and elsewhere as well. It was about how people would take an oath or swear about a truth by placing their hand on the holy Quran. It was a very courageous topic and the more conservative elements in the audience questioned why we were bringing up such topics in a drama series. Yet, this happens every day in households. Our story was about a woman who swears on the holy Quran that another woman is having an extramarital affair and as a result, the life of the accused woman is ruined. This was a completely new narrative in Pakistan. With &lt;em&gt;Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan&lt;/em&gt; audiences realised that narratives could be different. It was like opening a door. Audiences had moved away from local channels and were watching foreign channels like Zee TV, Star Plus and Sony. Now, all of a sudden, we were giving them dramas based on the realities of life and it resonated with them. That was when we realised there that the most important thing is for a narrative to have an outcome.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/07124834c4645df.jpg'  alt='&amp;lt;strong&amp;gt;Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan&amp;lt;/strong&amp;gt;' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        &lt;figcaption class='media__caption  '&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/figcaption&gt;
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: An outcome?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; The story should contain a message. For example, if someone is trying to oppress or hurt a person, we will show the outcome – the person doing the oppressing is eventually punished. It can also be about women’s empowerment, workplace harassment, tolerance…&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Wasn’t it a bit risky to move away from the ‘&lt;em&gt;saas-bahu&lt;/em&gt;’ norm?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; I am not saying that we have moved out of from that norm. When you deal with 60-plus episodes, you can’t reinforce one aspect only. It is like a structure. A structure built on family values, family connections, and marriage-related issues. If, for example, the central thread is women’s empowerment, we will mix it in along with other storylines.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you receive any pushback?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We do, and this is why
we keep things subtle – your coffee may be bitter, but you can add sugar.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AK:&lt;/strong&gt; It was challenging because we were touching upon subjects that were considered taboo – and which no one else was touching upon. But we knew that to enter the international arena, we could not shy away from these topics, although even now, there are subjects that we cannot touch. It was risky; we did not know whether it would be commercially viable. In the beginning, advertisers did not take us seriously; they did not believe we could compete with Zee TV and Star Plus.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why would you go to advertisers?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; Our industry is funded by the ad industry, and a lot of the time creativity is lost; sometimes you have to deliver the sort of content advertisers want, and you are stuck. When we approached advertisers, we tried to make them understand that we really had to end this cultural invasion. Then we made &lt;em&gt;Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan&lt;/em&gt; and that was the start.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Give me a sense of the ecosystem you work in.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; In the earlier days, the ecosystem was very different. If you were to ask me today whether we have more freedom to do different things, the answer is yes, for the simple reason that in those days our entire content was judged on TV. Now, the same content is available on different screens across different platforms. Before that, our audience was restricted to Pakistan, but today audiences span the UK, the US and India; people are watching the programming on YouTube. Earlier, channels had only one revenue stream and took limited risks. Today, they have a wider audience and are willing to consider braver storylines.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you still work with only one channel?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; Right now our relationship is exclusively with Geo. All major producers have exclusive relationships with a channel. Making dramas is a process and takes a minimum of 12 to 18 months, so it is important that the producers and the channel align their strategic objectives. You also have to build up learnings with the channel in terms of what works with their audience profile.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Overall, have audience preferences evolved?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; There is a difference in preferences but it is not a massive one. Pakistanis are very patriotic; they are very passionate about their religion, their values, and their social systems. There is change but at a slow pace. Has it affected our storytelling? Yes, it has. For example, we will feature a Gen Z girl in a mother-daughter relationship. We incorporate the challenges Gen Z daughters face, perhaps in terms of what they want to do, like we did in &lt;em&gt;Jhoom&lt;/em&gt;. When we look at global audiences, we cover issues such as long-distance marriages. But the changes are not massive for the simple reason that there has not really been a massive change in media consumption habits. Only the screen has changed. In fact, even among traditional audiences, housewives have moved away from TV and gone over to YouTube and other platforms.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AK:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Tere Bin&lt;/em&gt; is the most watched drama in the history of Pakistan; it garnered four billion plus views internationally. It has become a global phenomenon. We are in the billion views club. If you take the top 12 most-watched Pakistani dramas, we have produced eight of those. We are the only entertainment company that has produced a drama with views of four billion plus and three billion plus respectively. This is a big achievement. We have given a voice to our audiences and an identity to Pakistani dramas.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/07125114e143b6f.jpg'  alt='&amp;lt;strong&amp;gt;Tere Bin&amp;lt;/strong&amp;gt;' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        &lt;figcaption class='media__caption  '&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tere Bin&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/figcaption&gt;
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: In the long term, what will be the role of TV?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AK:&lt;/strong&gt; TV is dying whether we accept it or not. The big change happened during Covid. At the moment the split between TV and digital is 50:50, but it will move to 70:30, as digital and other streaming platforms take over.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Is the move to digital creating new opportunities?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; It is full of opportunities. Earlier, we had only three to four channels to sell to; now there is the opportunity to monetise on the digital platforms. The barriers to entry have come down. Today, anyone can make a video and upload it. The demand for content will keep going up; every second or third month, a new platform comes on-stream. For example, 7th Sky has partnered with a Turkish channel. They have dubbed our content in Turkish and are airing it right now. Pakistani content has suddenly become an attraction. Before we heard about Pakistani channels airing Turkish content, now it is the other way round. And I am not talking about one drama; I am talking about 500 to 600 hours of content. This has been going on for the last two years; Turkish channels have taken content from other production houses as well, but 85% of the content comes from 7th Sky. It is a very exciting time for producers. Globally speaking, Korean content is number one and in the Asian market, Pakistani content is number two – these are facts based on data.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why doesn’t Pakistani content feature as much as Indian content on Netflix?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; Syndicated Pakistani dramas have been rerun on Netflix. Indian content on Netflix is original content made for Netflix, so there is a difference there. The content Netflix is investing the most in globally is Korean. But yes, everyone is looking for that
golden bullet.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Will there be a golden bullet for Pakistan?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AK:&lt;/strong&gt; Netflix will come big time in Pakistan. They don’t have a choice because Pakistani dramas are so big.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How would you describe the talent you have access to when you produce a drama?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AK:&lt;/strong&gt; We are investing a lot in talent and Pakistan is super talented.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; Script editors and content department teams are very sought after resources. Sometimes writers have an amazing idea but turning it into a screenplay can be challenging for them. We are a vibrant industry. From an HR perspective, it is also a very competitive one. We have an amazing set of people we are very proud of.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Overall, what kind of support does the industry require to flourish further?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AK:&lt;/strong&gt; There is no support. Whatever we have done, we have done it on a self-sustained basis. We have invested out of our own pockets. It was our passion and obsession that made us take risks.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We struggle in terms of taxes; in terms of the confusion as to who should be paying them or not. We still struggle in terms of censorship challenges and clear-cut policy frameworks.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What kinds of policies?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AQ:&lt;/strong&gt; For example, unlike India, royalties do not exist in Pakistan; this is very discouraging for creative people. We need a more collaborative spirit so that the industry is looked at as a vital component in building Pakistan’s image. Our productions get Pakistan’s narrative across to global audiences. We promote tourism in the country by shooting on location; we are also foreign exchange earners when we export our content.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AK:&lt;/strong&gt; Dramas are Pakistani ambassadors. People’s attitudes have changed because of them. Earlier, people only talked about Indian content. Now it’s about Pakistan and that is a big achievement for the industry.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Abdullah Kadwani and Asad Qureshi were in conversation with Mariam Ali Baig. For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>AURORA: Let’s start with a brief background about 7th Sky Entertainment, and what it is that you bring to the table that is different from other production houses.</strong></p>
<p><strong>ASAD QURESHI:</strong> 7th Sky is about making a change in the media landscape. We have been in this business for a very long time and we have seen almost all the verticals in the industry. We started 7th Sky because we felt that no one else was making content that was resonating on an emotional level with audiences.</p>
<p><strong>A: Almost any production house will say they are making content that resonates with audiences. What is different about your content?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> When we started in private TV productions, hardly 10 or 12 dramas were being made, and of these, two to three were made by us. Life was way simpler then because we did not have social media and the multiple platforms that exist today. In those days, ratings were a debatable topic andn no one bothered much about them. Then the satellite boom happened, and all of a sudden, audiences were exposed to narratives produced in India, the UK, the US and elsewhere – and those narratives were based on a fusion that combined emotional resonance with an objective, whereas in Pakistan, we were stuck in the usual <em>saas-bahu</em> narratives. But now Pakistani audiences could evaluate us based on what they saw on satellite TV. Producers like ourselves were no longer competing with Pakistani content, we were competing with foreign channels as well.</p>
<p><strong>ABDULLAH KADWANI:</strong> After the invasion of satellite TV, there was a monopoly of Indian content, and Pakistani audiences were hooked on Zee TV, Star Plus and Sony. It was a glued viewership. It was a cultural invasion and it was done very smartly. For example, Pakistani children would use words like <em>bhagwan</em> or other concepts stemming from Hindu culture and values. This was when we realised that unless we started to produce content that resonated and engaged not only with Pakistan audiences, but had a global appeal, we would not be able to progress further.</p>
<p><strong>A: You mentioned content with an objective. What do you mean by that?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> A plotline. For example, when we made <em>Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan</em>, we received a lot of appreciation not only from Pakistani audiences but from India and elsewhere as well. It was about how people would take an oath or swear about a truth by placing their hand on the holy Quran. It was a very courageous topic and the more conservative elements in the audience questioned why we were bringing up such topics in a drama series. Yet, this happens every day in households. Our story was about a woman who swears on the holy Quran that another woman is having an extramarital affair and as a result, the life of the accused woman is ruined. This was a completely new narrative in Pakistan. With <em>Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan</em> audiences realised that narratives could be different. It was like opening a door. Audiences had moved away from local channels and were watching foreign channels like Zee TV, Star Plus and Sony. Now, all of a sudden, we were giving them dramas based on the realities of life and it resonated with them. That was when we realised there that the most important thing is for a narrative to have an outcome.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/07124834c4645df.jpg'  alt='&lt;strong&gt;Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan&lt;/strong&gt;' /></picture></div>
        <figcaption class='media__caption  '><strong>Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan</strong></figcaption>
    </figure></p>
<p><strong>A: An outcome?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> The story should contain a message. For example, if someone is trying to oppress or hurt a person, we will show the outcome – the person doing the oppressing is eventually punished. It can also be about women’s empowerment, workplace harassment, tolerance…</p>
<p><strong>A: Wasn’t it a bit risky to move away from the ‘<em>saas-bahu</em>’ norm?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> I am not saying that we have moved out of from that norm. When you deal with 60-plus episodes, you can’t reinforce one aspect only. It is like a structure. A structure built on family values, family connections, and marriage-related issues. If, for example, the central thread is women’s empowerment, we will mix it in along with other storylines.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you receive any pushback?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> We do, and this is why
we keep things subtle – your coffee may be bitter, but you can add sugar.</p>
<p><strong>AK:</strong> It was challenging because we were touching upon subjects that were considered taboo – and which no one else was touching upon. But we knew that to enter the international arena, we could not shy away from these topics, although even now, there are subjects that we cannot touch. It was risky; we did not know whether it would be commercially viable. In the beginning, advertisers did not take us seriously; they did not believe we could compete with Zee TV and Star Plus.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why would you go to advertisers?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> Our industry is funded by the ad industry, and a lot of the time creativity is lost; sometimes you have to deliver the sort of content advertisers want, and you are stuck. When we approached advertisers, we tried to make them understand that we really had to end this cultural invasion. Then we made <em>Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan</em> and that was the start.</p>
<p><strong>A: Give me a sense of the ecosystem you work in.</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> In the earlier days, the ecosystem was very different. If you were to ask me today whether we have more freedom to do different things, the answer is yes, for the simple reason that in those days our entire content was judged on TV. Now, the same content is available on different screens across different platforms. Before that, our audience was restricted to Pakistan, but today audiences span the UK, the US and India; people are watching the programming on YouTube. Earlier, channels had only one revenue stream and took limited risks. Today, they have a wider audience and are willing to consider braver storylines.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you still work with only one channel?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> Right now our relationship is exclusively with Geo. All major producers have exclusive relationships with a channel. Making dramas is a process and takes a minimum of 12 to 18 months, so it is important that the producers and the channel align their strategic objectives. You also have to build up learnings with the channel in terms of what works with their audience profile.</p>
<p><strong>A: Overall, have audience preferences evolved?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> There is a difference in preferences but it is not a massive one. Pakistanis are very patriotic; they are very passionate about their religion, their values, and their social systems. There is change but at a slow pace. Has it affected our storytelling? Yes, it has. For example, we will feature a Gen Z girl in a mother-daughter relationship. We incorporate the challenges Gen Z daughters face, perhaps in terms of what they want to do, like we did in <em>Jhoom</em>. When we look at global audiences, we cover issues such as long-distance marriages. But the changes are not massive for the simple reason that there has not really been a massive change in media consumption habits. Only the screen has changed. In fact, even among traditional audiences, housewives have moved away from TV and gone over to YouTube and other platforms.</p>
<p><strong>AK:</strong> <em>Tere Bin</em> is the most watched drama in the history of Pakistan; it garnered four billion plus views internationally. It has become a global phenomenon. We are in the billion views club. If you take the top 12 most-watched Pakistani dramas, we have produced eight of those. We are the only entertainment company that has produced a drama with views of four billion plus and three billion plus respectively. This is a big achievement. We have given a voice to our audiences and an identity to Pakistani dramas.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/07125114e143b6f.jpg'  alt='&lt;strong&gt;Tere Bin&lt;/strong&gt;' /></picture></div>
        <figcaption class='media__caption  '><strong>Tere Bin</strong></figcaption>
    </figure></p>
<p><strong>A: In the long term, what will be the role of TV?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AK:</strong> TV is dying whether we accept it or not. The big change happened during Covid. At the moment the split between TV and digital is 50:50, but it will move to 70:30, as digital and other streaming platforms take over.</p>
<p><strong>A: Is the move to digital creating new opportunities?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> It is full of opportunities. Earlier, we had only three to four channels to sell to; now there is the opportunity to monetise on the digital platforms. The barriers to entry have come down. Today, anyone can make a video and upload it. The demand for content will keep going up; every second or third month, a new platform comes on-stream. For example, 7th Sky has partnered with a Turkish channel. They have dubbed our content in Turkish and are airing it right now. Pakistani content has suddenly become an attraction. Before we heard about Pakistani channels airing Turkish content, now it is the other way round. And I am not talking about one drama; I am talking about 500 to 600 hours of content. This has been going on for the last two years; Turkish channels have taken content from other production houses as well, but 85% of the content comes from 7th Sky. It is a very exciting time for producers. Globally speaking, Korean content is number one and in the Asian market, Pakistani content is number two – these are facts based on data.</p>
<p><strong>A: Why doesn’t Pakistani content feature as much as Indian content on Netflix?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> Syndicated Pakistani dramas have been rerun on Netflix. Indian content on Netflix is original content made for Netflix, so there is a difference there. The content Netflix is investing the most in globally is Korean. But yes, everyone is looking for that
golden bullet.</p>
<p><strong>A: Will there be a golden bullet for Pakistan?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AK:</strong> Netflix will come big time in Pakistan. They don’t have a choice because Pakistani dramas are so big.</p>
<p><strong>A: How would you describe the talent you have access to when you produce a drama?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AK:</strong> We are investing a lot in talent and Pakistan is super talented.</p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> Script editors and content department teams are very sought after resources. Sometimes writers have an amazing idea but turning it into a screenplay can be challenging for them. We are a vibrant industry. From an HR perspective, it is also a very competitive one. We have an amazing set of people we are very proud of.</p>
<p><strong>A: Overall, what kind of support does the industry require to flourish further?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AK:</strong> There is no support. Whatever we have done, we have done it on a self-sustained basis. We have invested out of our own pockets. It was our passion and obsession that made us take risks.</p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> We struggle in terms of taxes; in terms of the confusion as to who should be paying them or not. We still struggle in terms of censorship challenges and clear-cut policy frameworks.</p>
<p><strong>A: What kinds of policies?</strong></p>
<p><strong>AQ:</strong> For example, unlike India, royalties do not exist in Pakistan; this is very discouraging for creative people. We need a more collaborative spirit so that the industry is looked at as a vital component in building Pakistan’s image. Our productions get Pakistan’s narrative across to global audiences. We promote tourism in the country by shooting on location; we are also foreign exchange earners when we export our content.</p>
<p><strong>AK:</strong> Dramas are Pakistani ambassadors. People’s attitudes have changed because of them. Earlier, people only talked about Indian content. Now it’s about Pakistan and that is a big achievement for the industry.</p>
<p><em>Abdullah Kadwani and Asad Qureshi were in conversation with Mariam Ali Baig. For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145387</guid>
      <pubDate>Mon, 10 Mar 2025 09:44:21 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Mariam Ali Baig)</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/100947274e1da7c.jpg?r=094735" type="image/jpeg" medium="image" height="1200" width="2000">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/03/100947274e1da7c.jpg?r=094735"/>
        <media:title/>
      </media:content>
    </item>
    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>King of Content Cool</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145420/king-of-content-cool</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;Irfan Junejo sits in the corner of a gym spinning on a stationary bike. You’d think a guy cycling nowhere would have a lot of time to reflect on the what-ifs of life. But if you ask Junejo – YouTuber, photographer, accidental marketing guy – he will flash that faint grin of someone who has seen a thing or two and reply, “I don’t regret much, to be honest.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He grew up in a Karachi you could almost call quiet. North Nazimabad was his first address until circumstances led his family to move to Malir. It’s more subdued there: wider streets, fewer gunshot echoes and grand social clubs. He was the kind of kid who liked to run around until someone could think of a good reason to bring him home. That reason turned out to be football.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;From the time he was nine, Junejo was more likely to remember the names of Arsenal’s bench players than the math formulas in his textbooks. “For me, football was everything,” he said. “I was a strong student early on, but eventually, I became just above average.” He lived and breathed the sport, toggling allegiances between FC Barcelona and Arsenal. By the time he hit his teens, he was serious enough about the game to play for local clubs. Provincial teams came calling, and some departmental squads dangled opportunities; the kind that demand full-time training.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="but-you-cant-chase-a-degree-and-a-ball-full-time-unless-you-are-lionel-messi-and-malir-doesnt-have-a-camp-nou" href="#but-you-cant-chase-a-degree-and-a-ball-full-time-unless-you-are-lionel-messi-and-malir-doesnt-have-a-camp-nou" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #dc4d14; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;But you can’t chase a degree and a ball full-time unless you are Lionel Messi, and Malir doesn’t have a Camp Nou.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This is when practicality barged into his life like an uninvited houseguest. “At 18, I realised I was not going to be a professional footballer. In Pakistan, there was no real future for it.” So he parked those dreams and the ball rolled out of the frame. His new direction pointed toward higher education. Marketing. A BBA. Followed by an attempt – well, three attempts – at an MBA.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He tells you this story in a tone that is both proud and self-deprecating. “I love marketing because it’s about storytelling.” He ended up at the Institute of Business Management (College of Business Management) in Karachi and says the real reason he stuck with marketing was the love of a good story.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ask him about that, and he lights up like a neon sign. “I used to watch old Nike and Adidas football commercials. They weren’t just ads to me; they were like mini-action films.” He remembers a particularly funny Strepsils commercial featuring an Olympic weightlifter who fails to hoist the bar until he pops a lozenge – after which he still can’t lift anything, but now he can scream. “All under 30 seconds. To me, that was brilliant storytelling.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-3/5  w-full  media--left    media--uneven  media--stretch'&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/061121093e1a2e0.png'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For a moment, he let that fascination flicker, until he stumbled upon photography. About a year into his BBA, his mother – newly retired – bought him a camera. That planted the first seeds of guilt.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He decided to make photography pay for itself, hammering away at the craft through online tutorials and practice. He shot weddings – not exactly the FIFA of photography, but it paid for better lenses and tripods. “I did a few free shoots to build a portfolio and the wedding circuit was repetitive,” he pauses, “but hey, I got to learn and make some money.” And he still had football.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In 2013, he established a football academy in Malir. “We weren’t making much. It was for the love of the game.” He was running the Facebook page for FC Rovers, his football club. Between wedding gigs and marketing the team, his photography and videography skills got a serious workout. The academy thrived until 2018 when his foray into YouTube turned full-time.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;If you scroll back to January 1, 2017, you will find a humble piece of local internet history: Junejo’s inaugural &lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://www.youtube.com/irfanjunejo"&gt;YouTube&lt;/a&gt; post. “My first video was literally me explaining who I was and why I wanted to vlog,” he says.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="it-was-my-new-years-resolution-to-start-that-channel-and-i-didnt-know-what-i-was-doing-but-pooray-dil-se-karna-tha" href="#it-was-my-new-years-resolution-to-start-that-channel-and-i-didnt-know-what-i-was-doing-but-pooray-dil-se-karna-tha" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #dc4d14; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;“It was my New Year’s resolution to start that channel and I didn’t know what I was doing.” But “&lt;em&gt;pooray dil se karna tha&lt;/em&gt;.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;No illusions about going viral. He spent every month uploading daily videos – 30 in 30 – and made a glorious sum of six dollars. But he wanted to shape raw slices of daily life into stories that inspire the sense of wonder he’d felt watching Casey Neistat. And if you think that’s an easy trick, try turning a breakfast of fried eggs and a quick trip to Dhoraji into compelling cinema.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was also a test of how far he could push the daily vlog format without losing his sanity. Two years in, his channel had soared past 800,000 subscribers. He had brand deals, a YouTube Silver Play Button and was recognised by fans – sometimes in the middle of a meal with his wife – enthusiastically waving their phones at him.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Offline, people sometimes don’t engage with you like a real person. “You go to a wedding, and you sense you are invited only for the picture. It’s weird,” he says. Online, he received comments about how he ate, which hand he used to hold a spoon, or that he looked a little tired that morning. “Early on, one negative comment could ruin my night,” he recalled. He found ways to shrug off superficial critiques, but by then, the bigger problem was that he no longer felt like the protagonist of his own story.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="you-wake-up-thinking-what-can-i-do-thats-exciting-for-the-vlog-he-says-exhaling-the-memory" href="#you-wake-up-thinking-what-can-i-do-thats-exciting-for-the-vlog-he-says-exhaling-the-memory" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #dc4d14; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;“You wake up thinking, ‘What can I do that’s exciting for the vlog?’” he says, exhaling the memory.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“That’s not living; that’s manufacturing life. I was a ‘professional life-sharer’ and it became toxic fast.” By 2019, he was burnt to a crisp and told his fans he was stepping away. “I didn’t want a vlog that was my life. I wanted a life that I could vlog.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He started journaling, cut down on screen time and tried to rebuild a semblance of personal space. He launched a second YouTube channel, &lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://www.youtube.com/@Junejo2.0"&gt;Junejo 2.0&lt;/a&gt;, during the Covid-19 lockdowns. This time, it was more ‘Three Tips for Better Titles’ or ‘Watch Me Fail at This Game,’ a contained environment that didn’t require him to rummage for vlog-worthy moments every waking hour. By the time the pandemic’s haze lifted, that second channel had ballooned to over 300,000 subscribers.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/071000169d682db.jpg'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;His original channel soared to over a million subscribers. “Brands didn’t trust creators with creative freedom,” he says. They would come with bullet-pointed scripts, instructions on tone, etc. “I made free videos for them, basically like, ‘Here’s what I can do – does it work for you?’ and that opened the door.” And results they saw in millions of viewers, young and old. Now, brand deals chased him.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He did toy with the idea of a feature film, but the local industry, with its labyrinth of bureaucracies and compromises, didn’t appeal. On YouTube, he is the boss. He can edit, upload and gauge audience feedback in hours instead of months. “I can release content on YouTube without dealing with restrictions.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He says his real bread and butter is brand deals and endorsements. If YouTube was banned, that would be a crisis, sure. But short of that, he is not losing sleep. He is, however, mapping out a plan: “I asked friends in London and Dubai how much they need to live comfortably. They said about $10,000 a month. So now, my goal is to build a source of income that isn’t tied to a specific location or platform.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="irfan-junejo-is-no-longer-the-starry-eyed-idealist-who-once-wanted-to-roam-londons-football-pitches" href="#irfan-junejo-is-no-longer-the-starry-eyed-idealist-who-once-wanted-to-roam-londons-football-pitches" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #dc4d14; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;&lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://www.instagram.com/irfanjunejo/"&gt;Irfan Junejo&lt;/a&gt; is no longer the starry-eyed idealist who once wanted to roam London’s football pitches.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Nor is he the overworked daily vlogger who filmed every breath of his day for content. These days, he is more measured; someone who has felt the exhaustion of fandom and fame but still loves the camera enough to chase the perfect shot. If you ask him what defines success, he will say, “It’s about feeling free.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Let’s just say I’m comfortable talking to a camera on my own terms. Five thousand people in an auditorium? Sure. A dinner party with strangers? I might just stick to the corner of the room.” He is building bigger brand deals, cooking up better content and quietly charting an exit plan if the digital gods ever slam the doors.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;You get the impression that if they did, he would shrug, pick up another camera and reinvent himself again. “I used to think 15,000 subscribers would be my peak,” he recalls. “Today, I have 1.4 million and the goalpost keeps moving. You are always chasing the next thing. It never ends.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alifya Sohail is a human rights reporter and researcher.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>Irfan Junejo sits in the corner of a gym spinning on a stationary bike. You’d think a guy cycling nowhere would have a lot of time to reflect on the what-ifs of life. But if you ask Junejo – YouTuber, photographer, accidental marketing guy – he will flash that faint grin of someone who has seen a thing or two and reply, “I don’t regret much, to be honest.”</p>
<p>He grew up in a Karachi you could almost call quiet. North Nazimabad was his first address until circumstances led his family to move to Malir. It’s more subdued there: wider streets, fewer gunshot echoes and grand social clubs. He was the kind of kid who liked to run around until someone could think of a good reason to bring him home. That reason turned out to be football.</p>
<p>From the time he was nine, Junejo was more likely to remember the names of Arsenal’s bench players than the math formulas in his textbooks. “For me, football was everything,” he said. “I was a strong student early on, but eventually, I became just above average.” He lived and breathed the sport, toggling allegiances between FC Barcelona and Arsenal. By the time he hit his teens, he was serious enough about the game to play for local clubs. Provincial teams came calling, and some departmental squads dangled opportunities; the kind that demand full-time training.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="but-you-cant-chase-a-degree-and-a-ball-full-time-unless-you-are-lionel-messi-and-malir-doesnt-have-a-camp-nou" href="#but-you-cant-chase-a-degree-and-a-ball-full-time-unless-you-are-lionel-messi-and-malir-doesnt-have-a-camp-nou" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #dc4d14; text-align: left;" markdown="1">But you can’t chase a degree and a ball full-time unless you are Lionel Messi, and Malir doesn’t have a Camp Nou.</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>This is when practicality barged into his life like an uninvited houseguest. “At 18, I realised I was not going to be a professional footballer. In Pakistan, there was no real future for it.” So he parked those dreams and the ball rolled out of the frame. His new direction pointed toward higher education. Marketing. A BBA. Followed by an attempt – well, three attempts – at an MBA.</p>
<p>He tells you this story in a tone that is both proud and self-deprecating. “I love marketing because it’s about storytelling.” He ended up at the Institute of Business Management (College of Business Management) in Karachi and says the real reason he stuck with marketing was the love of a good story.</p>
<p>Ask him about that, and he lights up like a neon sign. “I used to watch old Nike and Adidas football commercials. They weren’t just ads to me; they were like mini-action films.” He remembers a particularly funny Strepsils commercial featuring an Olympic weightlifter who fails to hoist the bar until he pops a lozenge – after which he still can’t lift anything, but now he can scream. “All under 30 seconds. To me, that was brilliant storytelling.”</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-3/5  w-full  media--left    media--uneven  media--stretch'>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/061121093e1a2e0.png'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>For a moment, he let that fascination flicker, until he stumbled upon photography. About a year into his BBA, his mother – newly retired – bought him a camera. That planted the first seeds of guilt.</p>
<p>He decided to make photography pay for itself, hammering away at the craft through online tutorials and practice. He shot weddings – not exactly the FIFA of photography, but it paid for better lenses and tripods. “I did a few free shoots to build a portfolio and the wedding circuit was repetitive,” he pauses, “but hey, I got to learn and make some money.” And he still had football.</p>
<p>In 2013, he established a football academy in Malir. “We weren’t making much. It was for the love of the game.” He was running the Facebook page for FC Rovers, his football club. Between wedding gigs and marketing the team, his photography and videography skills got a serious workout. The academy thrived until 2018 when his foray into YouTube turned full-time.</p>
<p>If you scroll back to January 1, 2017, you will find a humble piece of local internet history: Junejo’s inaugural <a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://www.youtube.com/irfanjunejo">YouTube</a> post. “My first video was literally me explaining who I was and why I wanted to vlog,” he says.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="it-was-my-new-years-resolution-to-start-that-channel-and-i-didnt-know-what-i-was-doing-but-pooray-dil-se-karna-tha" href="#it-was-my-new-years-resolution-to-start-that-channel-and-i-didnt-know-what-i-was-doing-but-pooray-dil-se-karna-tha" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #dc4d14; text-align: left;" markdown="1">“It was my New Year’s resolution to start that channel and I didn’t know what I was doing.” But “<em>pooray dil se karna tha</em>.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>No illusions about going viral. He spent every month uploading daily videos – 30 in 30 – and made a glorious sum of six dollars. But he wanted to shape raw slices of daily life into stories that inspire the sense of wonder he’d felt watching Casey Neistat. And if you think that’s an easy trick, try turning a breakfast of fried eggs and a quick trip to Dhoraji into compelling cinema.</p>
<p>It was also a test of how far he could push the daily vlog format without losing his sanity. Two years in, his channel had soared past 800,000 subscribers. He had brand deals, a YouTube Silver Play Button and was recognised by fans – sometimes in the middle of a meal with his wife – enthusiastically waving their phones at him.</p>
<p>Offline, people sometimes don’t engage with you like a real person. “You go to a wedding, and you sense you are invited only for the picture. It’s weird,” he says. Online, he received comments about how he ate, which hand he used to hold a spoon, or that he looked a little tired that morning. “Early on, one negative comment could ruin my night,” he recalled. He found ways to shrug off superficial critiques, but by then, the bigger problem was that he no longer felt like the protagonist of his own story.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="you-wake-up-thinking-what-can-i-do-thats-exciting-for-the-vlog-he-says-exhaling-the-memory" href="#you-wake-up-thinking-what-can-i-do-thats-exciting-for-the-vlog-he-says-exhaling-the-memory" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #dc4d14; text-align: left;" markdown="1">“You wake up thinking, ‘What can I do that’s exciting for the vlog?’” he says, exhaling the memory.</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>“That’s not living; that’s manufacturing life. I was a ‘professional life-sharer’ and it became toxic fast.” By 2019, he was burnt to a crisp and told his fans he was stepping away. “I didn’t want a vlog that was my life. I wanted a life that I could vlog.”</p>
<p>He started journaling, cut down on screen time and tried to rebuild a semblance of personal space. He launched a second YouTube channel, <a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://www.youtube.com/@Junejo2.0">Junejo 2.0</a>, during the Covid-19 lockdowns. This time, it was more ‘Three Tips for Better Titles’ or ‘Watch Me Fail at This Game,’ a contained environment that didn’t require him to rummage for vlog-worthy moments every waking hour. By the time the pandemic’s haze lifted, that second channel had ballooned to over 300,000 subscribers.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/071000169d682db.jpg'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>His original channel soared to over a million subscribers. “Brands didn’t trust creators with creative freedom,” he says. They would come with bullet-pointed scripts, instructions on tone, etc. “I made free videos for them, basically like, ‘Here’s what I can do – does it work for you?’ and that opened the door.” And results they saw in millions of viewers, young and old. Now, brand deals chased him.</p>
<p>He did toy with the idea of a feature film, but the local industry, with its labyrinth of bureaucracies and compromises, didn’t appeal. On YouTube, he is the boss. He can edit, upload and gauge audience feedback in hours instead of months. “I can release content on YouTube without dealing with restrictions.”</p>
<p>He says his real bread and butter is brand deals and endorsements. If YouTube was banned, that would be a crisis, sure. But short of that, he is not losing sleep. He is, however, mapping out a plan: “I asked friends in London and Dubai how much they need to live comfortably. They said about $10,000 a month. So now, my goal is to build a source of income that isn’t tied to a specific location or platform.”</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="irfan-junejo-is-no-longer-the-starry-eyed-idealist-who-once-wanted-to-roam-londons-football-pitches" href="#irfan-junejo-is-no-longer-the-starry-eyed-idealist-who-once-wanted-to-roam-londons-football-pitches" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #dc4d14; text-align: left;" markdown="1"><a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://www.instagram.com/irfanjunejo/">Irfan Junejo</a> is no longer the starry-eyed idealist who once wanted to roam London’s football pitches.</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>Nor is he the overworked daily vlogger who filmed every breath of his day for content. These days, he is more measured; someone who has felt the exhaustion of fandom and fame but still loves the camera enough to chase the perfect shot. If you ask him what defines success, he will say, “It’s about feeling free.”</p>
<p>“Let’s just say I’m comfortable talking to a camera on my own terms. Five thousand people in an auditorium? Sure. A dinner party with strangers? I might just stick to the corner of the room.” He is building bigger brand deals, cooking up better content and quietly charting an exit plan if the digital gods ever slam the doors.</p>
<p>You get the impression that if they did, he would shrug, pick up another camera and reinvent himself again. “I used to think 15,000 subscribers would be my peak,” he recalls. “Today, I have 1.4 million and the goalpost keeps moving. You are always chasing the next thing. It never ends.”</p>
<p><em>Alifya Sohail is a human rights reporter and researcher.</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145420</guid>
      <pubDate>Sat, 08 Mar 2025 12:37:15 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Alifya Sohail)</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/03/06111423e8f4c23.jpg?r=113002" type="image/jpeg" medium="image" height="962" width="1603">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/03/06111423e8f4c23.jpg?r=113002"/>
        <media:title/>
      </media:content>
    </item>
    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>A Visionary Leader and Inspirer: Prince Karim Aga Khan (1936-2025)</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145390/a-visionary-leader-and-inspirer-prince-karim-aga-khan-1936-2025</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;In the heart of Karachi, amidst the bustling city’s centre, lies a serene campus of pink buildings – the Aga Khan University and Hospital (AKUH). This architectural marvel, with its intricate designs, ponds and greenery, is a testament to the vision and humanity of the beloved 49th Imam of the Shia Ismaili Muslims, Prince Karim Aga Khan, who recently passed away, leaving behind a profound global legacy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;His Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan was not only a spiritual leader. He was a visionary who believed in the fusion of faith with worldly matters. He emphasised that faith should deepen our concern for our worldly habitat, embracing its challenges and improving the quality of human life. This responsibility as an Imam led him to establish the Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN), an endeavour committed to improving the quality of life for people around the world.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;AKUH, part of the AKDN, is a shining example of His Highness’ commitment to excellence and his vision for a better future. AKUH has not only provided world-class medical education and healthcare in Pakistan; it has also become a source of knowledge and talent for the developing world. Its graduates and faculty have gone on to serve in various capacities, contributing to the development of healthcare systems globally.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As a Shia Ismaili Muslim follower who had the privilege of working closely with His Highness and the AKDN, I witnessed firsthand his visionary leadership, meticulous attention to detail and unwavering commitment to excellence. His Highness had an extraordinary ability to plan for the long-term future while remaining deeply involved in the execution of projects, ensuring that even the most minute details were not overlooked.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I recall an incident in the eighties when His Highness was visiting Pakistan. I was tasked with the responsibility of printing the stationery for the AKUH, a seemingly simple assignment that turned into a valuable lesson in quality and leadership. The brand manual, designed by John Lees, specified a particular Pantone shade of red, which was unavailable in Pakistan. As the stationery needed to be printed urgently, the job was distributed among three printers who tried to match the Pantone shade. However, His Highness rejected the initial print due to variations in colour arising from the different printers – he did not want to compromise on the high standards expected from a world-class institution. Realising the challenge, I decided to have a special ink created in bulk to last a few years to match the exact Pantone shade, ensuring the same ink would be provided to any printer for consistency across all printed materials. This experience taught me the importance of pursuing uncompromising quality and the leadership skills required to empower others to solve problems.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The ethos of self-reliance is deeply embedded in the multifaceted development approach of the AKDN. Another shining example, which I had the opportunity to work with in its early days, is the Aga Khan Rural Support Programme (AKRSP), which has been instrumental in empowering rural communities in Pakistan and other countries. Through AKRSP, His Highness promoted the establishment of village organisations, enabling communities to identify their development priorities and implement projects with the support of AKDN.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;AKRSP’s work in areas such as natural resource management, education, health and rural finance has transformed the lives of millions, demonstrating the power of community-driven development. By fostering self-reliance and empowering communities to take charge of their own destinies, AKRSP exemplifies the vision of His Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan, a vision that continues to inspire and uplift communities around the world.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;His Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan’s visionary leadership, unwavering commitment to excellence and dedication to improving the quality of human life will forever be remembered and cherished. His legacy lives on through the chain of Imamat, now under the guidance of the 50th Ismaili Imam, Prince Rahim Aga Khan.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anwar Rammal is Chairman, Asiatic Public Relations; Board Member, Patients’ Behbud Society for AKUH; and Board Member, NAPA.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>In the heart of Karachi, amidst the bustling city’s centre, lies a serene campus of pink buildings – the Aga Khan University and Hospital (AKUH). This architectural marvel, with its intricate designs, ponds and greenery, is a testament to the vision and humanity of the beloved 49th Imam of the Shia Ismaili Muslims, Prince Karim Aga Khan, who recently passed away, leaving behind a profound global legacy.</p>
<p>His Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan was not only a spiritual leader. He was a visionary who believed in the fusion of faith with worldly matters. He emphasised that faith should deepen our concern for our worldly habitat, embracing its challenges and improving the quality of human life. This responsibility as an Imam led him to establish the Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN), an endeavour committed to improving the quality of life for people around the world.</p>
<p>AKUH, part of the AKDN, is a shining example of His Highness’ commitment to excellence and his vision for a better future. AKUH has not only provided world-class medical education and healthcare in Pakistan; it has also become a source of knowledge and talent for the developing world. Its graduates and faculty have gone on to serve in various capacities, contributing to the development of healthcare systems globally.</p>
<p>As a Shia Ismaili Muslim follower who had the privilege of working closely with His Highness and the AKDN, I witnessed firsthand his visionary leadership, meticulous attention to detail and unwavering commitment to excellence. His Highness had an extraordinary ability to plan for the long-term future while remaining deeply involved in the execution of projects, ensuring that even the most minute details were not overlooked.</p>
<p>I recall an incident in the eighties when His Highness was visiting Pakistan. I was tasked with the responsibility of printing the stationery for the AKUH, a seemingly simple assignment that turned into a valuable lesson in quality and leadership. The brand manual, designed by John Lees, specified a particular Pantone shade of red, which was unavailable in Pakistan. As the stationery needed to be printed urgently, the job was distributed among three printers who tried to match the Pantone shade. However, His Highness rejected the initial print due to variations in colour arising from the different printers – he did not want to compromise on the high standards expected from a world-class institution. Realising the challenge, I decided to have a special ink created in bulk to last a few years to match the exact Pantone shade, ensuring the same ink would be provided to any printer for consistency across all printed materials. This experience taught me the importance of pursuing uncompromising quality and the leadership skills required to empower others to solve problems.</p>
<p>The ethos of self-reliance is deeply embedded in the multifaceted development approach of the AKDN. Another shining example, which I had the opportunity to work with in its early days, is the Aga Khan Rural Support Programme (AKRSP), which has been instrumental in empowering rural communities in Pakistan and other countries. Through AKRSP, His Highness promoted the establishment of village organisations, enabling communities to identify their development priorities and implement projects with the support of AKDN.</p>
<p>AKRSP’s work in areas such as natural resource management, education, health and rural finance has transformed the lives of millions, demonstrating the power of community-driven development. By fostering self-reliance and empowering communities to take charge of their own destinies, AKRSP exemplifies the vision of His Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan, a vision that continues to inspire and uplift communities around the world.</p>
<p>His Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan’s visionary leadership, unwavering commitment to excellence and dedication to improving the quality of human life will forever be remembered and cherished. His legacy lives on through the chain of Imamat, now under the guidance of the 50th Ismaili Imam, Prince Rahim Aga Khan.</p>
<p><em>Anwar Rammal is Chairman, Asiatic Public Relations; Board Member, Patients’ Behbud Society for AKUH; and Board Member, NAPA.</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145390</guid>
      <pubDate>Mon, 24 Feb 2025 14:11:44 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Anwar H. Rammal)</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/02/2414112367bb4cb.jpg?r=141144" type="image/jpeg" medium="image" height="1200" width="2000">
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      <title>Remembering Ibrahim Baloch (1992-2025)</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145384/remembering-ibrahim-baloch-1992-2025</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;“Hi IB. Long time, how you been?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This is how I always imagined I would message you, Ibrahim Baloch. Guess I was too late, my bad!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;How funny, just two weeks ago I was having a chat with someone, and your name came up about my doing a series of talks with directors and their perspectives and the change they want to bring through their work! Well, I didn’t get to do that, but don’t you worry. Your work, your legacy, speaks for itself.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;You know, long before you became the household name that you are today, I used to quote your name as the gold standard for client servicing. I would often say, “I will consider you an account manager the day you start working like Ibrahim Baloch.” That wasn’t just a passing remark – it was a testament to the sheer dedication, precision and excellence you brought to your work.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;You just knew how to get work done. Wait, scratch that! You knew how to get the best work done. Your ability to navigate challenges, push boundaries, and set new benchmarks was something that stood out effortlessly. More than that, it wasn’t just about completing tasks; it was about upholding a certain ethos – a way of working, thinking, and leading that inspired those around you. It was a mindset you lived by, taught, and carried forward in every endeavour, leaving an undeniable mark on everyone who had the privilege to work with you.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Can I tell you what I miss the most about you? That sparkle – almost like stardust – in your eyes whenever you got a new brief, followed by that smile. The ‘Okay, let’s do this and push boundaries and deliver something better than the last time,’ smile with the most positive, can-do attitude. &lt;em&gt;Uff&lt;/em&gt;, how much better our advertising world would be if half the people had half the talent, spark and discipline you had.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Your transition into direction was something that perhaps didn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Those who truly knew you understood that you were always striving for something greater, always pushing boundaries and seeking new creative heights. It was only a matter of time before you stepped into this new role, and thank God that you did! Your vision, passion, and relentless pursuit of excellence have brought something truly special to the world, and we couldn’t be prouder of the journey you embarked on.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;To me, what always stood out is the work that you put into it all – unlearning, relearning, understanding technicalities, honing your craft. But perhaps the best thing was you never rested on your laurels or the team of experts around you. If you were working with them, you made sure you were just as good as them. If you were up against certain directors for a pitch, you made sure you earned your seat at the table. You put in the sweat, the blood, the joy and all you had in all you did – your work, your friends and your clients are a testament to that!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I will always live with a slight ache that I never had a chance to collaborate with you as director, and the stories I have heard don’t make it any better for me. Although the industry and the world will remember you for your work, craft and genius, the hundreds of people I spoke to about you, as well as your friends and your collaborators, will always remember you for your generosity, warmth and all that happened between the shots, and you always saying goodbye to the clients with &lt;em&gt;“Agli baar kuch aur bhi bara kareinge.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Aur bhi bohot kuch bara karna tha.”&lt;/em&gt; But what you achieved in so little time will always stand the test of time. You will live on with your work as an example of excellence.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I will miss you. The industry will miss you. But we will do our best to honour the love and passion you poured into this craft every single day, carrying it forward with the same dedication and heart that you so effortlessly embodied.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Rest well, IB!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fahad Bombaywala is Executive Director, Content &amp;amp; Brand Excellence, 365 Network and ECD, M&amp;amp;C Saatchi Group. &lt;a href="mailto:fahadbombaywala@gmail.com"&gt;fahadbombaywala@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>“Hi IB. Long time, how you been?”</p>
<p>This is how I always imagined I would message you, Ibrahim Baloch. Guess I was too late, my bad!</p>
<p>How funny, just two weeks ago I was having a chat with someone, and your name came up about my doing a series of talks with directors and their perspectives and the change they want to bring through their work! Well, I didn’t get to do that, but don’t you worry. Your work, your legacy, speaks for itself.</p>
<p>You know, long before you became the household name that you are today, I used to quote your name as the gold standard for client servicing. I would often say, “I will consider you an account manager the day you start working like Ibrahim Baloch.” That wasn’t just a passing remark – it was a testament to the sheer dedication, precision and excellence you brought to your work.</p>
<p>You just knew how to get work done. Wait, scratch that! You knew how to get the best work done. Your ability to navigate challenges, push boundaries, and set new benchmarks was something that stood out effortlessly. More than that, it wasn’t just about completing tasks; it was about upholding a certain ethos – a way of working, thinking, and leading that inspired those around you. It was a mindset you lived by, taught, and carried forward in every endeavour, leaving an undeniable mark on everyone who had the privilege to work with you.</p>
<p>Can I tell you what I miss the most about you? That sparkle – almost like stardust – in your eyes whenever you got a new brief, followed by that smile. The ‘Okay, let’s do this and push boundaries and deliver something better than the last time,’ smile with the most positive, can-do attitude. <em>Uff</em>, how much better our advertising world would be if half the people had half the talent, spark and discipline you had.</p>
<p>Your transition into direction was something that perhaps didn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Those who truly knew you understood that you were always striving for something greater, always pushing boundaries and seeking new creative heights. It was only a matter of time before you stepped into this new role, and thank God that you did! Your vision, passion, and relentless pursuit of excellence have brought something truly special to the world, and we couldn’t be prouder of the journey you embarked on.</p>
<p>To me, what always stood out is the work that you put into it all – unlearning, relearning, understanding technicalities, honing your craft. But perhaps the best thing was you never rested on your laurels or the team of experts around you. If you were working with them, you made sure you were just as good as them. If you were up against certain directors for a pitch, you made sure you earned your seat at the table. You put in the sweat, the blood, the joy and all you had in all you did – your work, your friends and your clients are a testament to that!</p>
<p>I will always live with a slight ache that I never had a chance to collaborate with you as director, and the stories I have heard don’t make it any better for me. Although the industry and the world will remember you for your work, craft and genius, the hundreds of people I spoke to about you, as well as your friends and your collaborators, will always remember you for your generosity, warmth and all that happened between the shots, and you always saying goodbye to the clients with <em>“Agli baar kuch aur bhi bara kareinge.”</em></p>
<p><em>“Aur bhi bohot kuch bara karna tha.”</em> But what you achieved in so little time will always stand the test of time. You will live on with your work as an example of excellence.</p>
<p>I will miss you. The industry will miss you. But we will do our best to honour the love and passion you poured into this craft every single day, carrying it forward with the same dedication and heart that you so effortlessly embodied.</p>
<p>Rest well, IB!</p>
<p><em>Fahad Bombaywala is Executive Director, Content &amp; Brand Excellence, 365 Network and ECD, M&amp;C Saatchi Group. <a href="mailto:fahadbombaywala@gmail.com">fahadbombaywala@gmail.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145384</guid>
      <pubDate>Thu, 20 Mar 2025 12:35:37 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Fahad Bombaywala)</author>
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      <title>Lahore Museum’s Prized Possession: Saifur Rehman Dar (1938–2024)</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145378/lahore-museums-prized-possession-saifur-rehman-dar-1938-2024</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;Saifur Rehman Dar’s passing on December 17, 2024, marks the death of one of Pakistan’s leading lights in museum development and management. Serving as Director of the Lahore Museum (1974-1993 and 1995-1998) and Director General of the Department of Archaeology and Museums Punjab (1991-1995), Dar’s years of active service marked the time when both institutions were at their most active, keeping a healthy pace with global museum developments.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The biographies of individuals become part of the biographies of the institutions they serve. Born in 1938 in Gujranwala, Dar joined the Lahore Museum in August 1974 after Pakistan’s most notable museum had faced several years of neglect; events after Partition had left the Sir Ganga Ram-designed building a mere shell of the grandeur with which it was designed. For Dar, who had served 17 years at the now-federal Department of Archaeology and Museums (&lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://doam.gov.pk/"&gt;DOAM&lt;/a&gt;), being at the helm meant that the institution could recover its lost prestige and look forward with a stronger focus.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As Shaila Bhatti notes in &lt;em&gt;Translating Museums: A Counterhistory of South Asian Museology&lt;/em&gt;, when Dar joined, out of the 17 officers employed, none had visited any other museum in Pakistan. Most staff members at museums and archaeological sites in Pakistan happen to accidentally start working there, something that has not changed considerably today.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/3117535921fb6b6.jpg?r=175915'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;While most museum directors in Pakistan at the time focused on rearranging collections, Dar took a global approach, prioritising the development of diverse museum professionals. Colleagues from the federal department were called in, and so were graduates from Peshawar University’s archaeology department. Soon, with the help of Bashir Ahmed Kureshi – former Chief Secretary of West Pakistan and Chairman of the Board of Governors of the Lahore Museum – Dar was able to involve the Ford Foundation and the Asian Cultural Council for capacity training at the museum.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Dar had come into an environment where he was one of the few qualified people to work in a museum space. Armed with his doctoral dissertation from Greece on the archaeology of Taxila, Dar was now working nearly from scratch to bring up the standards of museums around him.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;With this academic inclination, the training programmes Dar organised and led at the Lahore Museum culminated in &lt;em&gt;Museology and Museum Problems in Pakistan&lt;/em&gt; – a landmark 1981 publication that not only documented the state of museums in Pakistan but also served as a foundational guide for museum professionals nationwide. An even greater achievement was the launch of the &lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://lahoremuseum.punjab.gov.pk/node/107"&gt;Lahore Museum Bulletin&lt;/a&gt; in 1988 – the first of its kind for a Pakistani museum. Its publication filled a longstanding void since the &lt;em&gt;Museums Journal of Pakistan&lt;/em&gt;, an earlier but short-lived attempt to establish museological discourse in the country.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Dar remained critical of merging archaeology and museums in the same department, which strained resources between the two entities. This also resulted in museums in Pakistan being typeset to only hold relics of the past instead of contemporary and dynamic exhibits on societal events. This was a disappointing legacy set for museums in Pakistan, which held the opportunity to establish a Pakistani identity borne out of its cultural riches.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Alongside internal mismanagement, battling the wishes of bureaucracy is a critical tenet of the job when serving at any cultural institution in the country. The level of bureaucracy extended to the very top of the helm of Pakistan’s executive order at the time.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;One example of where Dar had to step in was with dictator General Ziaul Haq, who, while visiting Japan, promised that one of the most well-known artefacts in Pakistan – the ‘Fasting Buddha,’ excavated in 1894 by H.A. Dean at Sikri, near Peshawar – would be brought over to the country for an exhibit on Gandharan art. This, of course, was done without consultation with local experts in Pakistan and without knowing the intricacies of sending over an ancient artefact, particularly from a museum and collection infrastructure that can struggle to maintain it at the best of times properly.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/311753574e41437.jpg?r=175915'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Sirat Gohar Daudpota, a PhD student in archaeology at the Taxila Institute of Asian Civilisations in Islamabad, while writing his thesis and working on the rediscovery and exhibitions of the ‘Fasting Buddha’, noted that Dar, as director, wrote back to the involved ministries and the board of governors of the Lahore Museum. While most of the artefacts promised by Zia could be sent to Tokyo, the ‘Fasting Buddha’ could not be moved due to its condition – it was the museum’s prized possession. After a series of dissenting notes and conversations, Dar had to relent to military pressure but assured that one representative from the Lahore Museum went with the artefacts to guarantee their safekeeping.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Today, Lahore Museum stands in stark contrast to when Dar served as director; 2001 marked the last time a museum specialist, Dr Anjum Rehmani, was appointed director. Since then, a rotating pool of unqualified bureaucrats has been at the helm of Pakistan’s largest museum. While anthropologists, archaeologists and art historians lament the state of affairs, the Lahore Museum’s director’s office has become a ‘punishment’ post, where bureaucrats are sent to be sidelined or bide their time waiting for a promotion. Dar remained critical of this imposed bureaucratisation, insisting that bureaucrats ought to serve as patrons at museums, rather than intrude upon matters outside their professional expertise.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Dar outrightly established himself as a prolific author and global authority on museums in Pakistan, publishing 30 books and 200 papers, writing in English, Urdu and Punjabi. This saw him not only being a prominent part of the International Council of Museums (ICOM), under which the Lahore Museum became the first Pakistani museum to obtain ICOM membership, but his legacy was further cemented by his development of museums at Harappa, Kasur, Mohenjodaro and Taxila while also serving as Project Director of the Bahawalpur Museum. Until his passing, Dar gave a series of public talks and interviews, strongly believing in the public face that museum officials had to maintain in Pakistan.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Saeed Husain is Managing Editor, Folio Books.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;He tweets &lt;a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://x.com/saeedhusain72"&gt;@saeedhusain72&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>Saifur Rehman Dar’s passing on December 17, 2024, marks the death of one of Pakistan’s leading lights in museum development and management. Serving as Director of the Lahore Museum (1974-1993 and 1995-1998) and Director General of the Department of Archaeology and Museums Punjab (1991-1995), Dar’s years of active service marked the time when both institutions were at their most active, keeping a healthy pace with global museum developments.</p>
<p>The biographies of individuals become part of the biographies of the institutions they serve. Born in 1938 in Gujranwala, Dar joined the Lahore Museum in August 1974 after Pakistan’s most notable museum had faced several years of neglect; events after Partition had left the Sir Ganga Ram-designed building a mere shell of the grandeur with which it was designed. For Dar, who had served 17 years at the now-federal Department of Archaeology and Museums (<a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://doam.gov.pk/">DOAM</a>), being at the helm meant that the institution could recover its lost prestige and look forward with a stronger focus.</p>
<p>As Shaila Bhatti notes in <em>Translating Museums: A Counterhistory of South Asian Museology</em>, when Dar joined, out of the 17 officers employed, none had visited any other museum in Pakistan. Most staff members at museums and archaeological sites in Pakistan happen to accidentally start working there, something that has not changed considerably today.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/3117535921fb6b6.jpg?r=175915'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>While most museum directors in Pakistan at the time focused on rearranging collections, Dar took a global approach, prioritising the development of diverse museum professionals. Colleagues from the federal department were called in, and so were graduates from Peshawar University’s archaeology department. Soon, with the help of Bashir Ahmed Kureshi – former Chief Secretary of West Pakistan and Chairman of the Board of Governors of the Lahore Museum – Dar was able to involve the Ford Foundation and the Asian Cultural Council for capacity training at the museum.</p>
<p>Dar had come into an environment where he was one of the few qualified people to work in a museum space. Armed with his doctoral dissertation from Greece on the archaeology of Taxila, Dar was now working nearly from scratch to bring up the standards of museums around him.</p>
<p>With this academic inclination, the training programmes Dar organised and led at the Lahore Museum culminated in <em>Museology and Museum Problems in Pakistan</em> – a landmark 1981 publication that not only documented the state of museums in Pakistan but also served as a foundational guide for museum professionals nationwide. An even greater achievement was the launch of the <a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://lahoremuseum.punjab.gov.pk/node/107">Lahore Museum Bulletin</a> in 1988 – the first of its kind for a Pakistani museum. Its publication filled a longstanding void since the <em>Museums Journal of Pakistan</em>, an earlier but short-lived attempt to establish museological discourse in the country.</p>
<p>Dar remained critical of merging archaeology and museums in the same department, which strained resources between the two entities. This also resulted in museums in Pakistan being typeset to only hold relics of the past instead of contemporary and dynamic exhibits on societal events. This was a disappointing legacy set for museums in Pakistan, which held the opportunity to establish a Pakistani identity borne out of its cultural riches.</p>
<p>Alongside internal mismanagement, battling the wishes of bureaucracy is a critical tenet of the job when serving at any cultural institution in the country. The level of bureaucracy extended to the very top of the helm of Pakistan’s executive order at the time.</p>
<p>One example of where Dar had to step in was with dictator General Ziaul Haq, who, while visiting Japan, promised that one of the most well-known artefacts in Pakistan – the ‘Fasting Buddha,’ excavated in 1894 by H.A. Dean at Sikri, near Peshawar – would be brought over to the country for an exhibit on Gandharan art. This, of course, was done without consultation with local experts in Pakistan and without knowing the intricacies of sending over an ancient artefact, particularly from a museum and collection infrastructure that can struggle to maintain it at the best of times properly.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/311753574e41437.jpg?r=175915'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>Sirat Gohar Daudpota, a PhD student in archaeology at the Taxila Institute of Asian Civilisations in Islamabad, while writing his thesis and working on the rediscovery and exhibitions of the ‘Fasting Buddha’, noted that Dar, as director, wrote back to the involved ministries and the board of governors of the Lahore Museum. While most of the artefacts promised by Zia could be sent to Tokyo, the ‘Fasting Buddha’ could not be moved due to its condition – it was the museum’s prized possession. After a series of dissenting notes and conversations, Dar had to relent to military pressure but assured that one representative from the Lahore Museum went with the artefacts to guarantee their safekeeping.</p>
<p>Today, Lahore Museum stands in stark contrast to when Dar served as director; 2001 marked the last time a museum specialist, Dr Anjum Rehmani, was appointed director. Since then, a rotating pool of unqualified bureaucrats has been at the helm of Pakistan’s largest museum. While anthropologists, archaeologists and art historians lament the state of affairs, the Lahore Museum’s director’s office has become a ‘punishment’ post, where bureaucrats are sent to be sidelined or bide their time waiting for a promotion. Dar remained critical of this imposed bureaucratisation, insisting that bureaucrats ought to serve as patrons at museums, rather than intrude upon matters outside their professional expertise.</p>
<p>Dar outrightly established himself as a prolific author and global authority on museums in Pakistan, publishing 30 books and 200 papers, writing in English, Urdu and Punjabi. This saw him not only being a prominent part of the International Council of Museums (ICOM), under which the Lahore Museum became the first Pakistani museum to obtain ICOM membership, but his legacy was further cemented by his development of museums at Harappa, Kasur, Mohenjodaro and Taxila while also serving as Project Director of the Bahawalpur Museum. Until his passing, Dar gave a series of public talks and interviews, strongly believing in the public face that museum officials had to maintain in Pakistan.</p>
<p><em>Saeed Husain is Managing Editor, Folio Books.</em><br />
<em>He tweets <a rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" class="link--external" href="https://x.com/saeedhusain72">@saeedhusain72</a>.</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145378</guid>
      <pubDate>Mon, 10 Feb 2025 15:59:18 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Saeed Husain)</author>
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      <title>“From mattresses and motorbike tyres to UPS batteries and home appliances, we aim to cater to the needs of a typical household”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145346/from-mattresses-and-motorbike-tyres-to-ups-batteries-and-home-appliances-we-aim-to-cater-to-the-needs-of-a-typical-household</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UZMA KHATEEB-NAWAZ: Qist Bazaar was established in 2021. Could you tell us about how it operates?&lt;br /&gt;
ARIF LAKHANI:&lt;/strong&gt; Qist Bazaar is a ‘buy now, pay later’ platform that enables customers to purchase a variety of products by making an upfront payment, which includes a mark-up, and paying the balance via monthly instalments. As a registered non-banking financial corporation (NBFC), we operate in full compliance with local regulations. We consider ourselves a start-up; in May 2023, we secured our first round of funding from Bank Alfalah and raised $500,000 in seed funding. Earlier this year, we completed a Series A funding round worth $3.2 billion with Indus Valley Capital.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: Who is your primary target audience?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; Our focus is on SEC C households with monthly incomes between Rs 35,000 and Rs 75,000.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What kind of products does Qist Bazaar offer?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; Our portfolio includes approximately 1,400 products that are available online and at our physical stores. From mattresses and motorbike tyres to UPS batteries and home appliances, we aim to cater to the needs of a typical household.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What brands do you offer?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; We prioritise affordability. For example, we offer Samsung products priced at about Rs 30,000 but avoid their premium models (priced at Rs 130,000). We are one of the largest dealers of Dawlance in Pakistan. We also stock Haier and PEL products. Premium brands such as Apple are not part of our inventory.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: How does Qist Bazaar generate revenue?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; Primarily from profits on product sales. Higher sales lead to higher margins. We also earn revenue through mark-ups applied to the products we sell, which adhere to the Islamic principle of &lt;em&gt;musawamah&lt;/em&gt;. This ensures transparency as the total price, inclusive of mark-ups, down payments and instalments, is communicated upfront to the customer at the time of purchase.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: How has the market response been?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; Remarkable. Over the past 60 years, commercial banks in Pakistan have issued around two million loans, covering car, home, or personal financing. In comparison, Qist Bazaar has sold approximately 60,000 products on instalments in less than three years – a testament to the demand for our services and the exceptional response we have received.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What criteria must customers meet to qualify to purchase on instalments?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; Of the 60,000 products we have sold, nearly 50% of our products have been sold to micro-businesses such as naan shops, fruit vendors and rickshaw drivers. We also identify areas in various cities that are potentially lucrative or have a high default rate. Karachi, for example, is divided into 230 areas, of which 50 are high-default areas so we avoid issuing loans to residents there.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What kind of checks do you conduct on your customers?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; As an NBFC, we are integrated within the banking system, and this gives us access to data regarding whether or not someone has taken a loan previously from a bank or a microfinance institution. Additionally, we have our own dedicated database. Furthermore, before establishing Qist Bazaar, we operated as an offline business dealing in household items, and we have substantial data on certain clients, including records of their purchases and defaults. If we lack data on a new customer, we ask that two guarantors sign the &lt;em&gt;musawamah&lt;/em&gt; form on their behalf. The guarantors essentially agree to support us in recovering any outstanding payments in case of a default. They don’t need to be high-ranking officials; they could be the customer’s neighbours, milkman or a relative – anyone who knows the customer.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: Do customers have to provide proof of income?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; Absolutely not. One of the biggest challenges in Pakistan is that only about 15% of the employed population receives formal payslips. To address this, our verification officer evaluates the customer’s income informally. Based on this assessment, we ensure that the monthly instalment for any product purchased does not exceed one-tenth of their income. For example, for a household earning Rs 38,000 monthly, instalments would be capped at Rs 3,800.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: How do you market Qist Bazaar?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; We do this through unique approaches. For example, in North Karachi, customers will often see our ads displayed on the back of a rickshaw. In Orangi (one of our primary customer areas) we distribute branded Qist Bazaar mugs at local teashops or place brochures at bus stops. We also use OOH. Additionally, we engage audiences on digital platforms such as TikTok and YouTube. As a result, we have noticed a growing interest in Qist Bazaar from a wider audience, including SEC A and B customers who increasingly use our services for large appliances such as washing machines or refrigerators on instalments.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What is the purpose of a digital branch and does Qist Bazaar operate exclusively in the digital space?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; Digital branches are located in areas without physical stores. They assist customers in completing paperwork for online orders. Currently, we have 11 digital branches, with two dedicated to women and students. In addition to our online presence, which is responsible for 80% of our sales, we also operate 21 brick-and-mortar outlets in major cities across Pakistan, including Gujranwala, Hyderabad, Karachi, Lahore, Rawalpindi and Sukkur.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: What value additions does Qist Bazaar offer customers?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; We prioritise accessibility. For women, we require only one guarantor instead of two. Through our referral system, female customers can earn Rs 1,000 waivers on monthly payments for any product they purchase. We also operate female-only branches and include delivery charges in the quoted price, with no hidden costs. Early loan repayment qualifies for discounts, but we impose no penalties for late payments.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: Do you have any competition in this space?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; There are no regulated competitors in the market. Unlike us, regulated banks require a credit history or other documentation. Our main competition comes from the unregulated sector. For example, nearly 70% of domestic staff are forced to rely on loan sharks who charge exorbitant interest rates – nearly 10% – and often use unethical means to recover their debts. In contrast, as an NBFC, we adhere to strict regulations, including ethical debt collection procedures and regular inspections by the Securities and Exchange Commission of Pakistan. For example, the law prohibits us from contacting our customers after eight in the evening.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;UKN: Does Qist Bazaar have any plans to expand internationally?&lt;br /&gt;
AL:&lt;/strong&gt; Not for the time being. Pakistan’s population has enormous potential and even capturing just five percent of the market would be a significant achievement for us.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>UZMA KHATEEB-NAWAZ: Qist Bazaar was established in 2021. Could you tell us about how it operates?<br />
ARIF LAKHANI:</strong> Qist Bazaar is a ‘buy now, pay later’ platform that enables customers to purchase a variety of products by making an upfront payment, which includes a mark-up, and paying the balance via monthly instalments. As a registered non-banking financial corporation (NBFC), we operate in full compliance with local regulations. We consider ourselves a start-up; in May 2023, we secured our first round of funding from Bank Alfalah and raised $500,000 in seed funding. Earlier this year, we completed a Series A funding round worth $3.2 billion with Indus Valley Capital.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: Who is your primary target audience?<br />
AL:</strong> Our focus is on SEC C households with monthly incomes between Rs 35,000 and Rs 75,000.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What kind of products does Qist Bazaar offer?<br />
AL:</strong> Our portfolio includes approximately 1,400 products that are available online and at our physical stores. From mattresses and motorbike tyres to UPS batteries and home appliances, we aim to cater to the needs of a typical household.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What brands do you offer?<br />
AL:</strong> We prioritise affordability. For example, we offer Samsung products priced at about Rs 30,000 but avoid their premium models (priced at Rs 130,000). We are one of the largest dealers of Dawlance in Pakistan. We also stock Haier and PEL products. Premium brands such as Apple are not part of our inventory.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: How does Qist Bazaar generate revenue?<br />
AL:</strong> Primarily from profits on product sales. Higher sales lead to higher margins. We also earn revenue through mark-ups applied to the products we sell, which adhere to the Islamic principle of <em>musawamah</em>. This ensures transparency as the total price, inclusive of mark-ups, down payments and instalments, is communicated upfront to the customer at the time of purchase.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: How has the market response been?<br />
AL:</strong> Remarkable. Over the past 60 years, commercial banks in Pakistan have issued around two million loans, covering car, home, or personal financing. In comparison, Qist Bazaar has sold approximately 60,000 products on instalments in less than three years – a testament to the demand for our services and the exceptional response we have received.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What criteria must customers meet to qualify to purchase on instalments?<br />
AL:</strong> Of the 60,000 products we have sold, nearly 50% of our products have been sold to micro-businesses such as naan shops, fruit vendors and rickshaw drivers. We also identify areas in various cities that are potentially lucrative or have a high default rate. Karachi, for example, is divided into 230 areas, of which 50 are high-default areas so we avoid issuing loans to residents there.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What kind of checks do you conduct on your customers?<br />
AL:</strong> As an NBFC, we are integrated within the banking system, and this gives us access to data regarding whether or not someone has taken a loan previously from a bank or a microfinance institution. Additionally, we have our own dedicated database. Furthermore, before establishing Qist Bazaar, we operated as an offline business dealing in household items, and we have substantial data on certain clients, including records of their purchases and defaults. If we lack data on a new customer, we ask that two guarantors sign the <em>musawamah</em> form on their behalf. The guarantors essentially agree to support us in recovering any outstanding payments in case of a default. They don’t need to be high-ranking officials; they could be the customer’s neighbours, milkman or a relative – anyone who knows the customer.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: Do customers have to provide proof of income?<br />
AL:</strong> Absolutely not. One of the biggest challenges in Pakistan is that only about 15% of the employed population receives formal payslips. To address this, our verification officer evaluates the customer’s income informally. Based on this assessment, we ensure that the monthly instalment for any product purchased does not exceed one-tenth of their income. For example, for a household earning Rs 38,000 monthly, instalments would be capped at Rs 3,800.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: How do you market Qist Bazaar?<br />
AL:</strong> We do this through unique approaches. For example, in North Karachi, customers will often see our ads displayed on the back of a rickshaw. In Orangi (one of our primary customer areas) we distribute branded Qist Bazaar mugs at local teashops or place brochures at bus stops. We also use OOH. Additionally, we engage audiences on digital platforms such as TikTok and YouTube. As a result, we have noticed a growing interest in Qist Bazaar from a wider audience, including SEC A and B customers who increasingly use our services for large appliances such as washing machines or refrigerators on instalments.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What is the purpose of a digital branch and does Qist Bazaar operate exclusively in the digital space?<br />
AL:</strong> Digital branches are located in areas without physical stores. They assist customers in completing paperwork for online orders. Currently, we have 11 digital branches, with two dedicated to women and students. In addition to our online presence, which is responsible for 80% of our sales, we also operate 21 brick-and-mortar outlets in major cities across Pakistan, including Gujranwala, Hyderabad, Karachi, Lahore, Rawalpindi and Sukkur.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: What value additions does Qist Bazaar offer customers?<br />
AL:</strong> We prioritise accessibility. For women, we require only one guarantor instead of two. Through our referral system, female customers can earn Rs 1,000 waivers on monthly payments for any product they purchase. We also operate female-only branches and include delivery charges in the quoted price, with no hidden costs. Early loan repayment qualifies for discounts, but we impose no penalties for late payments.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: Do you have any competition in this space?<br />
AL:</strong> There are no regulated competitors in the market. Unlike us, regulated banks require a credit history or other documentation. Our main competition comes from the unregulated sector. For example, nearly 70% of domestic staff are forced to rely on loan sharks who charge exorbitant interest rates – nearly 10% – and often use unethical means to recover their debts. In contrast, as an NBFC, we adhere to strict regulations, including ethical debt collection procedures and regular inspections by the Securities and Exchange Commission of Pakistan. For example, the law prohibits us from contacting our customers after eight in the evening.</p>
<p><strong>UKN: Does Qist Bazaar have any plans to expand internationally?<br />
AL:</strong> Not for the time being. Pakistan’s population has enormous potential and even capturing just five percent of the market would be a significant achievement for us.</p>
<p><em>For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145346</guid>
      <pubDate>Mon, 27 Jan 2025 15:06:55 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Uzma Khateeb-Nawaz)</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/2715055941b820f.png?r=150610" type="image/png" medium="image" height="840" width="1400">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/01/2715055941b820f.png?r=150610"/>
        <media:title/>
      </media:content>
    </item>
    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>Thinking Beyond Walls</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145322/thinking-beyond-walls</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;Shaheryar Ghayas did not set out to make a career in advertising. Even less, set up an entirely remote-first agency that would challenge the traditional agency model.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Starting his professional journey in IT, Ghayas found himself drawn to a different rhythm, one that allowed for interaction and creativity rather than data and code. “I realised early on,” he says, “that I wanted to work with people, not just screens.” This eventually led him down an unexpected path: building Madnest, a remote-first advertising agency.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Before that, however, Ghayas had a career in advertising that spanned nearly two decades. Starting as a copywriter at Adcom, he quickly moved into senior creative roles at Saatchi &amp;amp; Saatchi, BBDO and Publicis, and along the way handled some of Pakistan’s biggest brands, including Pepsi, Nescafé and Jazz. His time in Lahore, Pakistan’s FMCG hub, was a defining chapter in his career. “Working in Lahore gave me the FMCG experience I needed to understand the fast-paced demands of this industry. It’s where you learn how to speak to a broad consumer base and how to balance brand vision with mass appeal.” His immersion in Lahore’s advertising scene exposed him to high-profile clients and honed his expertise in delivering high-impact campaigns for FMCG goods.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He recalls the intense demands of those early years, with New Year’s Eve sometimes spent in the office for last-minute production tweaks and long nights dedicated to meeting client expectations. “Back then, it was all about going the extra mile. You had to learn every aspect of production, from casting and location scouting to understanding sound and lighting. It was all part of delivering what the client needed.” These experiences, though gruelling, were invaluable, teaching him the nuances of production and the mechanics behind every campaign’s impact.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/2415244885b3848.jpg'  alt='Photo: Jami' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        &lt;figcaption class='media__caption  '&gt;Photo: Jami&lt;/figcaption&gt;
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This career journey gave Ghayas the skills and insights he would eventually need to launch Madnest. His work with Pepsi, for example, required him to innovate within strict brand guidelines while making successive campaigns feel fresh. At Nescafé, he managed a team tasked with executing a bold, coffee-over-tea campaign that had him balancing client ambitions with consumer sentiment, ultimately driving record sales. These roles taught him to appreciate the balance between vision and execution. “You realise that every big idea is only as good as the details, and I wanted Madnest to be a place where our team could focus on getting both right without being bound to a physical location.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Yet, as he grew within these roles, he noticed significant flaws in agency culture. “I saw so much potential for change,” he recalls. “At Publicis, for instance, we revitalised the Nestlé brand in a way that challenged norms. But the structure was still too rigid.” This awareness grew into a vision for something radically different. A place where creativity could flourish without the constraints of conventional office spaces.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ghayas launched Madnest in 2017, although the seeds were planted long before. “Madnest started in my living room,” he chuckles. “Our first address was not even an office; it was a spare bedroom with a makeshift setup.” However, it was Covid-19 that proved to be the catalyst that forced Madnest to go fully remote. “We tried going back to the office after the first wave,” he says, “but by the third wave, we said, why fight it? Let’s perfect this model instead.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Shaheryar Ghayas’ approach is not about efficiency only. It is about creating a sustainable work culture in an industry notorious for demanding hours.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="i-spent-20-years-in-agencies-where-late-nights-were-the-norm-but-i-realised-that-it-doesnt-have-to-be-that-way-at-madnest-the-workday-ends-promptly-at-six-pm-a-rare-boundary-in-advertising-i-want-my-team-to-go-home-unwind-and-come-back-recharged-if-they-a" href="#i-spent-20-years-in-agencies-where-late-nights-were-the-norm-but-i-realised-that-it-doesnt-have-to-be-that-way-at-madnest-the-workday-ends-promptly-at-six-pm-a-rare-boundary-in-advertising-i-want-my-team-to-go-home-unwind-and-come-back-recharged-if-they-a" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #49887d; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt; “I spent 20 years in agencies where late nights were the norm. But I realised that it doesn’t have to be that way.” At Madnest, the workday ends promptly at six pm, a rare boundary in advertising. “I want my team to go home, unwind, and come back recharged. If they are burnt out, the work suffers. It’s as simple as that.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Today, Madnest operates as a remote-first agency with team members scattered across Pakistan and even Dubai. Despite the distance, the team is connected by clear, disciplined protocols, which Ghayas believes are essential to a remote model’s success. “We operate almost like clockwork,” he explains. “If someone steps away from their screen, they update the team on their status. It sounds strict, but it keeps everyone synced and respectful of each other’s time.” These protocols, combined with real-time feedback loops and daily progress updates, have allowed Madnest to thrive as an efficient and cohesive team.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ghayas’ approach is not about efficiency only. It is about creating a sustainable work culture in an industry notorious for demanding hours. “I spent 20 years in agencies where late nights were the norm. But I realised that it doesn’t have to be that way.” At Madnest, the workday ends promptly at six pm, a rare boundary in advertising. “I want my team to go home, unwind, and come back recharged. If they are burnt out, the work suffers. It’s as simple as that.” This people-centric ethos is what has enabled Madnest to achieve a high retention rate in an industry notorious for burnout. “We are committed to doing things differently. I think that’s why people stick around.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;While the advertising industry is known for its hierarchy and tight, often restrictive timelines, Ghayas believes in a looser approach that encourages responsibility and trust. “In a remote setting, you have to trust people to do their jobs without being constantly checked up on. So, we developed a culture that is both relaxed and disciplined. Everyone knows what is expected of them, and they are free to manage their time accordingly.” He takes pride in the fact that Madnest’s processes are thoroughly systematised; from task sheets to naming conventions, everything has its place.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="it-might-sound-a-little-regimented-but-structure-is-what-lets-us-be-as-creative-as-we-are" href="#it-might-sound-a-little-regimented-but-structure-is-what-lets-us-be-as-creative-as-we-are" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #49887d; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt; “It might sound a little regimented, but structure is what lets us be as creative as we are.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This philosophy has resonated with clients as well, although they initially had reservations. “Now, clients say they prefer the setup; less time spent commuting, more time spent in productive meetings.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Reflecting on his journey, Ghayas attributes much of Madnest’s success to his own unorthodox career path, which began with a phone call from a friend. “I didn’t even know what a copywriter was,” he laughs. “I showed up for an interview at Adcom thinking it was for client servicing, but they hired me as a copywriter.” His eclectic background, which includes performing in the Pakistani rock band Qayaas (it was featured in Rolling Stone), has shaped his approach to storytelling. “I have always seen advertising as an art form. It’s not about selling a product; it’s about creating something memorable and that resonates.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In building Madnest, Ghayas took his experiences from the large agencies he worked at and applied them in new ways. He remembers drawing inspiration from childhood icons when rebranding the Rio biscuit line for EBM. “I grew up watching &lt;em&gt;Sesame Street&lt;/em&gt;,” he reminisces. “Cookie Monster was always my favourite. When the brief for Rio came up, the first image that came to mind was Cookie Monster. I wanted kids to feel that same joy and mischief.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="ghayass-vision-for-madnest-extends-beyond-operational-success-he-aims-to-redefine-what-a-creative-agency-can-look-like-in-pakistan" href="#ghayass-vision-for-madnest-extends-beyond-operational-success-he-aims-to-redefine-what-a-creative-agency-can-look-like-in-pakistan" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #49887d; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt; Ghayas’s vision for Madnest extends beyond operational success. He aims to redefine what a creative agency can look like in Pakistan.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“We don’t pitch for work unless we believe in the brand. I want Madnest to work with clients who believe in our process and our expertise.” This approach, while risky, has paid off in loyal partnerships and a steady flow of projects that align with the agency’s ethos.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As Ghayas reflects on his journey, he says he is not interested in being just another agency. “I want Madnest to be a place where creativity is not bound by location, where our team can work from anywhere, and where our clients see results.” Not surprisingly, he does not measure success by traditional markers, but by impact. “If Madnest changes how agencies work in Pakistan, even just a little, then I will know we did something right.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In Shaheryar Ghayas’ world, the boundaries of what is possible in advertising have shifted. In the process, he has proved that sometimes all it takes is a living room, a dedicated team, and a vision that refuses to be confined by walls.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Shahrezad Samiuddin works in communications and is an agony aunt. &lt;a href="mailto:shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com"&gt;shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>Shaheryar Ghayas did not set out to make a career in advertising. Even less, set up an entirely remote-first agency that would challenge the traditional agency model.</p>
<p>Starting his professional journey in IT, Ghayas found himself drawn to a different rhythm, one that allowed for interaction and creativity rather than data and code. “I realised early on,” he says, “that I wanted to work with people, not just screens.” This eventually led him down an unexpected path: building Madnest, a remote-first advertising agency.</p>
<p>Before that, however, Ghayas had a career in advertising that spanned nearly two decades. Starting as a copywriter at Adcom, he quickly moved into senior creative roles at Saatchi &amp; Saatchi, BBDO and Publicis, and along the way handled some of Pakistan’s biggest brands, including Pepsi, Nescafé and Jazz. His time in Lahore, Pakistan’s FMCG hub, was a defining chapter in his career. “Working in Lahore gave me the FMCG experience I needed to understand the fast-paced demands of this industry. It’s where you learn how to speak to a broad consumer base and how to balance brand vision with mass appeal.” His immersion in Lahore’s advertising scene exposed him to high-profile clients and honed his expertise in delivering high-impact campaigns for FMCG goods.</p>
<p>He recalls the intense demands of those early years, with New Year’s Eve sometimes spent in the office for last-minute production tweaks and long nights dedicated to meeting client expectations. “Back then, it was all about going the extra mile. You had to learn every aspect of production, from casting and location scouting to understanding sound and lighting. It was all part of delivering what the client needed.” These experiences, though gruelling, were invaluable, teaching him the nuances of production and the mechanics behind every campaign’s impact.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/2415244885b3848.jpg'  alt='Photo: Jami' /></picture></div>
        <figcaption class='media__caption  '>Photo: Jami</figcaption>
    </figure></p>
<p>This career journey gave Ghayas the skills and insights he would eventually need to launch Madnest. His work with Pepsi, for example, required him to innovate within strict brand guidelines while making successive campaigns feel fresh. At Nescafé, he managed a team tasked with executing a bold, coffee-over-tea campaign that had him balancing client ambitions with consumer sentiment, ultimately driving record sales. These roles taught him to appreciate the balance between vision and execution. “You realise that every big idea is only as good as the details, and I wanted Madnest to be a place where our team could focus on getting both right without being bound to a physical location.”</p>
<p>Yet, as he grew within these roles, he noticed significant flaws in agency culture. “I saw so much potential for change,” he recalls. “At Publicis, for instance, we revitalised the Nestlé brand in a way that challenged norms. But the structure was still too rigid.” This awareness grew into a vision for something radically different. A place where creativity could flourish without the constraints of conventional office spaces.</p>
<p>Ghayas launched Madnest in 2017, although the seeds were planted long before. “Madnest started in my living room,” he chuckles. “Our first address was not even an office; it was a spare bedroom with a makeshift setup.” However, it was Covid-19 that proved to be the catalyst that forced Madnest to go fully remote. “We tried going back to the office after the first wave,” he says, “but by the third wave, we said, why fight it? Let’s perfect this model instead.”</p>
<p>Shaheryar Ghayas’ approach is not about efficiency only. It is about creating a sustainable work culture in an industry notorious for demanding hours.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="i-spent-20-years-in-agencies-where-late-nights-were-the-norm-but-i-realised-that-it-doesnt-have-to-be-that-way-at-madnest-the-workday-ends-promptly-at-six-pm-a-rare-boundary-in-advertising-i-want-my-team-to-go-home-unwind-and-come-back-recharged-if-they-a" href="#i-spent-20-years-in-agencies-where-late-nights-were-the-norm-but-i-realised-that-it-doesnt-have-to-be-that-way-at-madnest-the-workday-ends-promptly-at-six-pm-a-rare-boundary-in-advertising-i-want-my-team-to-go-home-unwind-and-come-back-recharged-if-they-a" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #49887d; text-align: left;" markdown="1"> “I spent 20 years in agencies where late nights were the norm. But I realised that it doesn’t have to be that way.” At Madnest, the workday ends promptly at six pm, a rare boundary in advertising. “I want my team to go home, unwind, and come back recharged. If they are burnt out, the work suffers. It’s as simple as that.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>Today, Madnest operates as a remote-first agency with team members scattered across Pakistan and even Dubai. Despite the distance, the team is connected by clear, disciplined protocols, which Ghayas believes are essential to a remote model’s success. “We operate almost like clockwork,” he explains. “If someone steps away from their screen, they update the team on their status. It sounds strict, but it keeps everyone synced and respectful of each other’s time.” These protocols, combined with real-time feedback loops and daily progress updates, have allowed Madnest to thrive as an efficient and cohesive team.</p>
<p>Ghayas’ approach is not about efficiency only. It is about creating a sustainable work culture in an industry notorious for demanding hours. “I spent 20 years in agencies where late nights were the norm. But I realised that it doesn’t have to be that way.” At Madnest, the workday ends promptly at six pm, a rare boundary in advertising. “I want my team to go home, unwind, and come back recharged. If they are burnt out, the work suffers. It’s as simple as that.” This people-centric ethos is what has enabled Madnest to achieve a high retention rate in an industry notorious for burnout. “We are committed to doing things differently. I think that’s why people stick around.”</p>
<p>While the advertising industry is known for its hierarchy and tight, often restrictive timelines, Ghayas believes in a looser approach that encourages responsibility and trust. “In a remote setting, you have to trust people to do their jobs without being constantly checked up on. So, we developed a culture that is both relaxed and disciplined. Everyone knows what is expected of them, and they are free to manage their time accordingly.” He takes pride in the fact that Madnest’s processes are thoroughly systematised; from task sheets to naming conventions, everything has its place.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="it-might-sound-a-little-regimented-but-structure-is-what-lets-us-be-as-creative-as-we-are" href="#it-might-sound-a-little-regimented-but-structure-is-what-lets-us-be-as-creative-as-we-are" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #49887d; text-align: left;" markdown="1"> “It might sound a little regimented, but structure is what lets us be as creative as we are.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>This philosophy has resonated with clients as well, although they initially had reservations. “Now, clients say they prefer the setup; less time spent commuting, more time spent in productive meetings.”</p>
<p>Reflecting on his journey, Ghayas attributes much of Madnest’s success to his own unorthodox career path, which began with a phone call from a friend. “I didn’t even know what a copywriter was,” he laughs. “I showed up for an interview at Adcom thinking it was for client servicing, but they hired me as a copywriter.” His eclectic background, which includes performing in the Pakistani rock band Qayaas (it was featured in Rolling Stone), has shaped his approach to storytelling. “I have always seen advertising as an art form. It’s not about selling a product; it’s about creating something memorable and that resonates.”</p>
<p>In building Madnest, Ghayas took his experiences from the large agencies he worked at and applied them in new ways. He remembers drawing inspiration from childhood icons when rebranding the Rio biscuit line for EBM. “I grew up watching <em>Sesame Street</em>,” he reminisces. “Cookie Monster was always my favourite. When the brief for Rio came up, the first image that came to mind was Cookie Monster. I wanted kids to feel that same joy and mischief.”</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="ghayass-vision-for-madnest-extends-beyond-operational-success-he-aims-to-redefine-what-a-creative-agency-can-look-like-in-pakistan" href="#ghayass-vision-for-madnest-extends-beyond-operational-success-he-aims-to-redefine-what-a-creative-agency-can-look-like-in-pakistan" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #49887d; text-align: left;" markdown="1"> Ghayas’s vision for Madnest extends beyond operational success. He aims to redefine what a creative agency can look like in Pakistan.</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>“We don’t pitch for work unless we believe in the brand. I want Madnest to work with clients who believe in our process and our expertise.” This approach, while risky, has paid off in loyal partnerships and a steady flow of projects that align with the agency’s ethos.</p>
<p>As Ghayas reflects on his journey, he says he is not interested in being just another agency. “I want Madnest to be a place where creativity is not bound by location, where our team can work from anywhere, and where our clients see results.” Not surprisingly, he does not measure success by traditional markers, but by impact. “If Madnest changes how agencies work in Pakistan, even just a little, then I will know we did something right.”</p>
<p>In Shaheryar Ghayas’ world, the boundaries of what is possible in advertising have shifted. In the process, he has proved that sometimes all it takes is a living room, a dedicated team, and a vision that refuses to be confined by walls.</p>
<p><em>Shahrezad Samiuddin works in communications and is an agony aunt. <a href="mailto:shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com">shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145322</guid>
      <pubDate>Mon, 27 Jan 2025 10:13:46 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Shahrezad Samiuddin)</author>
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      <title>“We are trying to provide every market segment with a good product at a reasonable price”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145323/we-are-trying-to-provide-every-market-segment-with-a-good-product-at-a-reasonable-price</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AURORA: You have worked at several prominent organisations prior to joining Sparx. How has your career in mobile technology progressed?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZESHAN QURESHI:&lt;/strong&gt; My professional life, which spans nearly 22 years, has revolved around mobile technology and smart gadgets. I am very passionate about them and about bringing new technologies to Pakistan, localisation and job creation. I am a communication systems engineer, and I joined Samsung in 2003 when it was an emerging brand and not yet a Fortune 500 company. At Samsung, I had the opportunity to work in several countries including South Korea, Egypt, Turkey, Dubai and Pakistan and I eventually became the country head for Pakistan and Afghanistan. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Why did you leave Samsung to join QMobile?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; Leaving Samsung for QMobile as a founding member was a very tough decision because by that time in 2010, Samsung was a Fortune 500 company and Qmobile a start-up, and the concept of start-ups was not as prevalent as it is today. However, at the time, although Nokia was a dominant player, their market share was diminishing. I realised that as Nokia would increasingly be focusing on Microsoft-related products, this would leave a vacuum for feature phones which QMobile was concentrating on. When QMobile started, the total market size in Pakistan was approximately 600,000 mobile units per month. We set our two-year target at one million phones. Within two years, the market grew to 1.8 million units and of that, QMobile was selling 1.1 to 1.2 million units and had captured about 72% of the market share. Qmobile was therefore a huge success.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: To what do you attribute to QMobile’s success?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We were able to customise phones according to the consumers’ needs at economical prices, and we were very agile, efficient and intelligent with our marketing spend. QMobile became a household name in two years’ time and one of the factors that contributed to this success was a campaign I worked on featuring Kareena Kapoor. However, I wanted to work more on localisation, and the opportunity came to work on this aspect with Haier which I joined in 2014 as their CEO for Pakistan and Afghanistan. They were launching mobile phones and laptops and we soon established a local assembly plant. In 2016, I was approached by the QMobile management to return to QMobile. I did so as I wanted to launch products under the Qmobile umbrella such as Q LED Lighting, Q Washing Machines, Q TVs and Q Motorcycles. However, things did not go according to plan and I eventually joined Sparx in 2022.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Which brands does the Deploy Group, which owns Sparx, manufacture?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; The Deploy Group mainly manufactures smartphones and Sparx is their premium brand, in addition to brands such as Xmobile, which consists mainly of feature phones and primarily targets rural audiences. At present, it has a 19% market penetration. Another brand is Xcess, which makes products such as smartwatches, earbuds and power banks. All three brands have the letter X in common to create synergy between them.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How has the response been to Sparx?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; Very positive. The first product campaign we rolled out featured Maya Ali and Wahaj Ali for our glass-finished phone – the Mi 7 Ultra. We have sold more than half a million units in 16 months and it is our most popular product. The product has evolved and includes models such as the Neo 7 Plus and Neo 8 Pro, which cost between Rs 20,000 and 35,000 rupees. We aim to further improve their price ranges and features. We also introduced our Edge series which is a high-end product at a very competitive price; Mahira Khan is the face of the brand. One of the reasons for the positive response to our products is the fact that compared to competing products, they have two to three more features and are more economical. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Who is your target audience?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; It mainly includes 22 to 50-year-olds, most of whom live in tier two and tier three cities. The reason for this is that people residing in the metros have a lot more options than their non-metro counterparts. However, products from our Edge series also cater to urban audiences. Ultimately, we are trying to provide every market segment with a good product at a reasonable price so we can help people improve their lifestyles. In the segment in which we are operating (mainly cities and towns other than Islamabad, Karachi and Lahore), people earlier bought second-hand phones, especially in smaller cities and towns such as Faisalabad, Jhang, Okrara and Sahiwal. People there aspire to purchase a ‘&lt;em&gt;dabba&lt;/em&gt; pack’ – a new phone – which has a warranty. We are penetrating that market, and provide phones with the features they require with warranties – at economical rates. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A:Where are Sparx phones available?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We are available in almost 90% of the country.  We are now partnering with Muller and Phipps, a leading distribution company, and this should increase our reach further in terms of towns, cities and retailers.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Where do the majority of your sales take place?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We have outlets that we operate ourselves, but they are few in number and the majority of our sales come through retailers. We are available on several online platforms, although our online sales do not constitute more than five percent of our overall sales, as people prefer to buy phones in person. In fact, the overall sales of mobiles on digital platforms do not exceed 10% in Pakistan.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How many factories do you have?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We have one factory located in Korangi in Karachi. We place a lot of emphasis on localisation and all the products are assembled there. The factory has the capacity to produce half a million units per month and is one of the largest in Pakistan.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: There is a perception that foreign products are better in terms of quality compared to local products. How are you trying to overcome this perception?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; Generally speaking, people tend to undermine products made locally, no matter how good they are, and foreign brands take advantage of this although many of them use components made in China – even the iPhone. This mindset will take time to change, and the way we counter this is by providing a high-quality product at an economical price, and by focusing on providing efficient after-sales service. We also try very hard to facilitate our customers if they face any problems with our products to create goodwill. We have a network of 21 customer care centres, as well as more than 200 collection points, in addition to a functioning UAN number. If a product is under warranty, repairs are done free of charge within 24 to 72 hours. If the warranty has expired, we still make an active effort to resolve the issue.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How can Sparx compete with foreign brands?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; What works for us is the fact that foreign brands manufacture their phones on a global scale and they do not make products specifically for Pakistan. On the other hand, we have the leverage and capability to make customised products that have features Pakistani consumers want. Features important for Pakistanis include a good screen, a high refresh rate, ROM, RAM and the front camera to take selfies, in addition to faster charging times for batteries. Our cameras are always better than the competition within the relevant price segment. Many of our products have a dragon trail or gorilla glass finish, while other mobile manufacturers have a plastic finish. Furthermore, we use MediaTek chipsets which have better processing speeds while others use Unistock chipsets, which are not as robust.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Which marketing channels do you use to promote your products?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We are very active on TikTok, YouTube, Instagram and Snapchat as these platforms have proven to be very effective in reaching young people. However, TV is still important in some cases because of its reach, especially when an event such as a cricket match is being aired or during Ramzan and Eid. We also use OOH and organise on-ground activities from time to time.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Is this true for your TGs in tier two and tier three cities as well?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; Yes, because people living in those cities don’t have electricity a lot of the time and are unable to watch TV, so they use their phones instead. In fact, the majority of TikTok users reside in these cities, not in the metros.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you rely on advertising agencies or is the creative work done in-house?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We have an in-house team that handles the majority of our projects, but we also work with agencies and production houses from time to time, especially for our more prominent campaigns such as Helipad Productions, Simi Productions and Quetzal Studios.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How are the habits of mobile users in Pakistan changing?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; They are becoming increasingly aware of the products they purchase, and whether or not they fulfil their requirements, as they now understand which features can impact the performance of a phone; this was not the case five years ago. However, people are now changing their phones less frequently due to inflation. For instance, two to four years ago, many people would buy a new phone every six months; now, they change their phones every 12 to 18 months in some segments as their priorities have changed as phones have become more expensive. A phone that used to cost Rs 20,000 now costs Rs 45,000 to 50,000. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How will 5G impact the telecom sector?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We have always been late as far as introducing new technologies is concerned, even compared to countries like Afghanistan. Even now, 4G is not functional across the entire country, especially in the non-metros. I think 5G will be an improvement but it is not about speed – it is more about things such as driverless cars, health applications and drone technology, and for such things to work in Pakistan, the infrastructure has to be put in place. We hear that the 5G auction will take place in the first quarter of 2025, but I don’t think this will change much, because implementing 5G is not that easy, and will probably be available in three to 10 major cities. What is more important to focus on for organisations like the PTA is on providing better quality service, signal strength and speed. Some of the MNOs have started sharing towers which will improve coverage and reduce costs. Nevertheless, despite these issues, in terms of technology overall, we have done quite well as 90% of the phones are now locally assembled. We need to focus more on localisation and technology transfer and start manufacturing accessories such as chargers, batteries, and printing materials. Ultimately, the concerned authorities should make an active effort to implement the 2019 Mobile Device Manufacturing Policy which encourages localisation.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How will the buyout of Telenor by PTCL affect the sector?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; This is how international companies tend to work globally. They work in a country for 10 to 12 years, and then leave after developing the market; this has been the case in countries such as India and Myanmar. I think this merger will prove to be beneficial because I always thought we had more MNOs than needed, as the more operators, the lower the quality of service, and their ARPU keeps on dropping. The merger will likely result in better service, increased digital inclusion and improved ARPU.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Do you plan to expand Sparx to countries other than Pakistan?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We would love to and we were excited to do so last year until the imposition of the 18% general sales tax which has become a big hurdle when it comes to exporting products. We are talking to the government to see how things can be improved. The government should come up with some kind of subsidy or tax holiday for exporters. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What are your short-term and long-term goals?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ZQ:&lt;/strong&gt; We want to establish ourselves as a brand that creates value for its customers and provides them with good quality products, with good after-sales service. We hope to go into product diversification and not limit ourselves to mobile phones and introduce household technology-based products. However, this will take between two to three years to realise. Our short-term goal is to strengthen our market share and continue to provide people with high-quality products at reasonable prices.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Zeshan Qureshi was in conversation with Mamun M. Adil.
&lt;a href="mailto:mamun.adil@gmail.com"&gt;mamun.adil@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>AURORA: You have worked at several prominent organisations prior to joining Sparx. How has your career in mobile technology progressed?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZESHAN QURESHI:</strong> My professional life, which spans nearly 22 years, has revolved around mobile technology and smart gadgets. I am very passionate about them and about bringing new technologies to Pakistan, localisation and job creation. I am a communication systems engineer, and I joined Samsung in 2003 when it was an emerging brand and not yet a Fortune 500 company. At Samsung, I had the opportunity to work in several countries including South Korea, Egypt, Turkey, Dubai and Pakistan and I eventually became the country head for Pakistan and Afghanistan. </p>
<p><strong>A: Why did you leave Samsung to join QMobile?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> Leaving Samsung for QMobile as a founding member was a very tough decision because by that time in 2010, Samsung was a Fortune 500 company and Qmobile a start-up, and the concept of start-ups was not as prevalent as it is today. However, at the time, although Nokia was a dominant player, their market share was diminishing. I realised that as Nokia would increasingly be focusing on Microsoft-related products, this would leave a vacuum for feature phones which QMobile was concentrating on. When QMobile started, the total market size in Pakistan was approximately 600,000 mobile units per month. We set our two-year target at one million phones. Within two years, the market grew to 1.8 million units and of that, QMobile was selling 1.1 to 1.2 million units and had captured about 72% of the market share. Qmobile was therefore a huge success.</p>
<p><strong>A: To what do you attribute to QMobile’s success?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We were able to customise phones according to the consumers’ needs at economical prices, and we were very agile, efficient and intelligent with our marketing spend. QMobile became a household name in two years’ time and one of the factors that contributed to this success was a campaign I worked on featuring Kareena Kapoor. However, I wanted to work more on localisation, and the opportunity came to work on this aspect with Haier which I joined in 2014 as their CEO for Pakistan and Afghanistan. They were launching mobile phones and laptops and we soon established a local assembly plant. In 2016, I was approached by the QMobile management to return to QMobile. I did so as I wanted to launch products under the Qmobile umbrella such as Q LED Lighting, Q Washing Machines, Q TVs and Q Motorcycles. However, things did not go according to plan and I eventually joined Sparx in 2022.</p>
<p><strong>A: Which brands does the Deploy Group, which owns Sparx, manufacture?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> The Deploy Group mainly manufactures smartphones and Sparx is their premium brand, in addition to brands such as Xmobile, which consists mainly of feature phones and primarily targets rural audiences. At present, it has a 19% market penetration. Another brand is Xcess, which makes products such as smartwatches, earbuds and power banks. All three brands have the letter X in common to create synergy between them.</p>
<p><strong>A: How has the response been to Sparx?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> Very positive. The first product campaign we rolled out featured Maya Ali and Wahaj Ali for our glass-finished phone – the Mi 7 Ultra. We have sold more than half a million units in 16 months and it is our most popular product. The product has evolved and includes models such as the Neo 7 Plus and Neo 8 Pro, which cost between Rs 20,000 and 35,000 rupees. We aim to further improve their price ranges and features. We also introduced our Edge series which is a high-end product at a very competitive price; Mahira Khan is the face of the brand. One of the reasons for the positive response to our products is the fact that compared to competing products, they have two to three more features and are more economical. </p>
<p><strong>A: Who is your target audience?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> It mainly includes 22 to 50-year-olds, most of whom live in tier two and tier three cities. The reason for this is that people residing in the metros have a lot more options than their non-metro counterparts. However, products from our Edge series also cater to urban audiences. Ultimately, we are trying to provide every market segment with a good product at a reasonable price so we can help people improve their lifestyles. In the segment in which we are operating (mainly cities and towns other than Islamabad, Karachi and Lahore), people earlier bought second-hand phones, especially in smaller cities and towns such as Faisalabad, Jhang, Okrara and Sahiwal. People there aspire to purchase a ‘<em>dabba</em> pack’ – a new phone – which has a warranty. We are penetrating that market, and provide phones with the features they require with warranties – at economical rates. </p>
<p><strong>A:Where are Sparx phones available?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We are available in almost 90% of the country.  We are now partnering with Muller and Phipps, a leading distribution company, and this should increase our reach further in terms of towns, cities and retailers.</p>
<p><strong>A: Where do the majority of your sales take place?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We have outlets that we operate ourselves, but they are few in number and the majority of our sales come through retailers. We are available on several online platforms, although our online sales do not constitute more than five percent of our overall sales, as people prefer to buy phones in person. In fact, the overall sales of mobiles on digital platforms do not exceed 10% in Pakistan.</p>
<p><strong>A: How many factories do you have?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We have one factory located in Korangi in Karachi. We place a lot of emphasis on localisation and all the products are assembled there. The factory has the capacity to produce half a million units per month and is one of the largest in Pakistan.</p>
<p><strong>A: There is a perception that foreign products are better in terms of quality compared to local products. How are you trying to overcome this perception?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> Generally speaking, people tend to undermine products made locally, no matter how good they are, and foreign brands take advantage of this although many of them use components made in China – even the iPhone. This mindset will take time to change, and the way we counter this is by providing a high-quality product at an economical price, and by focusing on providing efficient after-sales service. We also try very hard to facilitate our customers if they face any problems with our products to create goodwill. We have a network of 21 customer care centres, as well as more than 200 collection points, in addition to a functioning UAN number. If a product is under warranty, repairs are done free of charge within 24 to 72 hours. If the warranty has expired, we still make an active effort to resolve the issue.</p>
<p><strong>A: How can Sparx compete with foreign brands?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> What works for us is the fact that foreign brands manufacture their phones on a global scale and they do not make products specifically for Pakistan. On the other hand, we have the leverage and capability to make customised products that have features Pakistani consumers want. Features important for Pakistanis include a good screen, a high refresh rate, ROM, RAM and the front camera to take selfies, in addition to faster charging times for batteries. Our cameras are always better than the competition within the relevant price segment. Many of our products have a dragon trail or gorilla glass finish, while other mobile manufacturers have a plastic finish. Furthermore, we use MediaTek chipsets which have better processing speeds while others use Unistock chipsets, which are not as robust.</p>
<p><strong>A: Which marketing channels do you use to promote your products?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We are very active on TikTok, YouTube, Instagram and Snapchat as these platforms have proven to be very effective in reaching young people. However, TV is still important in some cases because of its reach, especially when an event such as a cricket match is being aired or during Ramzan and Eid. We also use OOH and organise on-ground activities from time to time.</p>
<p><strong>A: Is this true for your TGs in tier two and tier three cities as well?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> Yes, because people living in those cities don’t have electricity a lot of the time and are unable to watch TV, so they use their phones instead. In fact, the majority of TikTok users reside in these cities, not in the metros.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you rely on advertising agencies or is the creative work done in-house?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We have an in-house team that handles the majority of our projects, but we also work with agencies and production houses from time to time, especially for our more prominent campaigns such as Helipad Productions, Simi Productions and Quetzal Studios.</p>
<p><strong>A: How are the habits of mobile users in Pakistan changing?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> They are becoming increasingly aware of the products they purchase, and whether or not they fulfil their requirements, as they now understand which features can impact the performance of a phone; this was not the case five years ago. However, people are now changing their phones less frequently due to inflation. For instance, two to four years ago, many people would buy a new phone every six months; now, they change their phones every 12 to 18 months in some segments as their priorities have changed as phones have become more expensive. A phone that used to cost Rs 20,000 now costs Rs 45,000 to 50,000. </p>
<p><strong>A: How will 5G impact the telecom sector?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We have always been late as far as introducing new technologies is concerned, even compared to countries like Afghanistan. Even now, 4G is not functional across the entire country, especially in the non-metros. I think 5G will be an improvement but it is not about speed – it is more about things such as driverless cars, health applications and drone technology, and for such things to work in Pakistan, the infrastructure has to be put in place. We hear that the 5G auction will take place in the first quarter of 2025, but I don’t think this will change much, because implementing 5G is not that easy, and will probably be available in three to 10 major cities. What is more important to focus on for organisations like the PTA is on providing better quality service, signal strength and speed. Some of the MNOs have started sharing towers which will improve coverage and reduce costs. Nevertheless, despite these issues, in terms of technology overall, we have done quite well as 90% of the phones are now locally assembled. We need to focus more on localisation and technology transfer and start manufacturing accessories such as chargers, batteries, and printing materials. Ultimately, the concerned authorities should make an active effort to implement the 2019 Mobile Device Manufacturing Policy which encourages localisation.</p>
<p><strong>A: How will the buyout of Telenor by PTCL affect the sector?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> This is how international companies tend to work globally. They work in a country for 10 to 12 years, and then leave after developing the market; this has been the case in countries such as India and Myanmar. I think this merger will prove to be beneficial because I always thought we had more MNOs than needed, as the more operators, the lower the quality of service, and their ARPU keeps on dropping. The merger will likely result in better service, increased digital inclusion and improved ARPU.</p>
<p><strong>A: Do you plan to expand Sparx to countries other than Pakistan?</strong></p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We would love to and we were excited to do so last year until the imposition of the 18% general sales tax which has become a big hurdle when it comes to exporting products. We are talking to the government to see how things can be improved. The government should come up with some kind of subsidy or tax holiday for exporters. </p>
<p><strong>A: What are your short-term and long-term goals?</strong> </p>
<p><strong>ZQ:</strong> We want to establish ourselves as a brand that creates value for its customers and provides them with good quality products, with good after-sales service. We hope to go into product diversification and not limit ourselves to mobile phones and introduce household technology-based products. However, this will take between two to three years to realise. Our short-term goal is to strengthen our market share and continue to provide people with high-quality products at reasonable prices.</p>
<p><em>Zeshan Qureshi was in conversation with Mamun M. Adil.
<a href="mailto:mamun.adil@gmail.com">mamun.adil@gmail.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145323</guid>
      <pubDate>Wed, 22 Jan 2025 17:43:13 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Mamun M. AdilAurora)</author>
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      <title>“We made thrifting cool again by building a community and a culture around it”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145297/we-made-thrifting-cool-again-by-building-a-community-and-a-culture-around-it</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ALIFYA SOHAIL: Tell us the origin story of Swag Kicks.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NOFAL KHAN:&lt;/strong&gt; There is a personal story behind Swag Kicks. When I was in school, one of my co-founders (he was a childhood friend) used to take me to his dad’s warehouse. His dad was involved in the pre-loved trade, importing containers similar to the ones that supply traditional &lt;em&gt;landa&lt;/em&gt; bazaars in Pakistan. We would open the containers and find all kinds of shoe brands, like Air Jordans and Nikes. At the time you could not just walk into a Nike store and buy a pair of Jordans, and even if you could, the cost would have been Rs 60,000 to 70,000, which wasn’t something I could afford coming from a middle-class background. I have always been into shoes, but buying expensive new sneakers was not an option. I used to ask relatives abroad to bring me shoes, but I never knew what I would end up getting. I started hunting through my friend’s containers and ended up with some really cool sneakers and suddenly we were the coolest kids in school. I then noticed more and more people asking me where I got my shoes and I realised there was a huge demand for quality sneakers in Pakistan, especially among young people. So, we set out to democratise access to Jordans and Nikes by digitising the &lt;em&gt;landa&lt;/em&gt; bazaar experience and removing the stigma around second-hand shopping.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AS: How have consumer attitudes towards second-hand clothing changed since Swag Kicks began?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NK:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Landa&lt;/em&gt; bazaars are packed with people looking for deals on used clothes, but they are looked at as a ‘poor man’s solution’. It was never cool or aspirational. Swag Kicks changes that perception. We are not just selling second-hand clothes; we are selling an experience. That buying preloved items is not about settling for less – it is about making a conscious choice for something that has character. Our branding and storytelling play a big role in this. People associated second-hand with low quality, but once we started curating, showcasing and building a brand around thrifting, the narrative started to shift. Today, people don’t just shop with us for affordability; they shop for the thrill of discovery. We have positioned thrifting as not only sustainable but as something cool, aspirational and trendy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AS: How did you make thrifting ‘cool again’?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NK:&lt;/strong&gt; Coming from a marketing agency background, I realised that we needed to build an in-house marketing team and then focus on creating a brand rather than just marketing individual shoes. We knew we could not market individual products the way a traditional brand does, so we decided to create a culture around Swag Kicks. I took inspiration from brands like Coca-Cola and Red Bull that sell their product by building a lifestyle around it. We collaborated with break dancers, the basketball crowd and even mountaineers in Islamabad. We gave these communities a platform, adopted their vibe and made it part of our brand identity. Then we started engaging with the younger population. We identified where they hung out on social media and what topics they were interested in. For instance, a kid in Faisalabad might be into Quick Style. So we began collaborating with hip-hop artists in Karachi and Lahore, promoting them on our socials, and essentially aligning Swag Kicks with the cultural moments and movements that our audience cares about. We made thrifting cool again by building a community and a culture around it.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AS: Have inflation and boycott movements impacted your ability to source from global brands?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NK:&lt;/strong&gt; Thrift cycles have an inbuilt time lag, so the effects of any current boycott will not be felt in our inventory until next year. The immediate issue is inflation and the dollar-rupee parity. We buy everything in dollars and prices have essentially doubled. If we pass that cost to our customers, it becomes a problem because people are still very price-sensitive. A preloved pair of Nikes for six to seven thousand rupees makes sense, but if it jumps to Rs 10,000-11,000, it is not appealing anymore. We have tried selling cheaper shoes for Rs 2,500-3,000, but they do not last as the quality is already degraded and this ends up hurting our brand image. It is a constant struggle to figure out where to position ourselves. Right now, we are leaning toward sticking with shoes priced around six to seven thousand rupees, but it is a tough market to navigate. One of the reasons we are investing in our SaaS product is to create something in Pakistan that we can export globally and that will help us manage the impact on our direct-to-consumer (D2C) business.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AS: How does Swag Kicks give back to the local economy?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NK:&lt;/strong&gt; The best way of giving back is by investing heavily in local talent, and we have worked with artists, musicians and athletes – people who might not have the means to afford expensive gear. There is an athlete in Sukkur who cannot afford $200 shoes, but he buys a particular pair of Asics from us; this is the kind of impact we are making. We are democratising access to quality products and providing sustainable options. We are also creating opportunities within our own team. Our Shopify manager started out packing boxes in the warehouse. Over the years, he learnt data skills, SQL and Python, and he is now enrolled in a computer science programme and on track to becoming a data engineer. This is just one example and we have hundreds of stories like this. We are empowering people at every level, giving them opportunities to grow and build better futures.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AS: How does Swag Kicks differentiate itself from competitors?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NK:&lt;/strong&gt; The key differentiator is our customer and user experience. Since we are all sourcing similar products, there is no real product distinction. What sets us apart is how we communicate our brand story and interact with our customers online. Many thrift stores focus on being cheap and appealing; we wanted to move away from that narrative. We conducted research to understand who our customers are and found that a lot of young people relate to the message behind Swag Kicks. It was surprising to learn that half the classrooms in institutions like the Karachi Grammar School shop with us. This trickle-down effect means that if aspirational groups embrace us, it eventually spreads to others, regardless of social class. We nailed that approach, focusing on the quality of the experience rather than affordability.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AS: You said you want Swag Kicks to become the biggest thrift brand in the world. Are you on track to make that happen?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NK:&lt;/strong&gt; Our ultimate goal is not just to become the biggest D2C thrift brand in the world, but to be the leading force in digitising thrift globally. Although we are focused on D2C, we have also cracked supply, ensuring consistent, reliable access to quality products and we were the first to do this effectively. However, the bigger vision lies in our SaaS product and consultancy, helping other brands navigate the sustainable and preloved market. Global brands like Nike, Adidas and Lululemon are starting to go into resale, especially as European regulations mandate more sustainably sourced materials. However, these big players do not have the expertise or infrastructure to sell used products and this is where we come in. Major brands have approached us for advice on how to sell their own pre-loved items. So, whether it’s through D2C, our SaaS or consultancy, we aim to be the company that digitises thrifting on a global scale. That’s our real ambition, and we are well on track for it.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>ALIFYA SOHAIL: Tell us the origin story of Swag Kicks.</strong></p>
<p><strong>NOFAL KHAN:</strong> There is a personal story behind Swag Kicks. When I was in school, one of my co-founders (he was a childhood friend) used to take me to his dad’s warehouse. His dad was involved in the pre-loved trade, importing containers similar to the ones that supply traditional <em>landa</em> bazaars in Pakistan. We would open the containers and find all kinds of shoe brands, like Air Jordans and Nikes. At the time you could not just walk into a Nike store and buy a pair of Jordans, and even if you could, the cost would have been Rs 60,000 to 70,000, which wasn’t something I could afford coming from a middle-class background. I have always been into shoes, but buying expensive new sneakers was not an option. I used to ask relatives abroad to bring me shoes, but I never knew what I would end up getting. I started hunting through my friend’s containers and ended up with some really cool sneakers and suddenly we were the coolest kids in school. I then noticed more and more people asking me where I got my shoes and I realised there was a huge demand for quality sneakers in Pakistan, especially among young people. So, we set out to democratise access to Jordans and Nikes by digitising the <em>landa</em> bazaar experience and removing the stigma around second-hand shopping.</p>
<p><strong>AS: How have consumer attitudes towards second-hand clothing changed since Swag Kicks began?</strong></p>
<p><strong>NK:</strong> <em>Landa</em> bazaars are packed with people looking for deals on used clothes, but they are looked at as a ‘poor man’s solution’. It was never cool or aspirational. Swag Kicks changes that perception. We are not just selling second-hand clothes; we are selling an experience. That buying preloved items is not about settling for less – it is about making a conscious choice for something that has character. Our branding and storytelling play a big role in this. People associated second-hand with low quality, but once we started curating, showcasing and building a brand around thrifting, the narrative started to shift. Today, people don’t just shop with us for affordability; they shop for the thrill of discovery. We have positioned thrifting as not only sustainable but as something cool, aspirational and trendy.</p>
<p><strong>AS: How did you make thrifting ‘cool again’?</strong></p>
<p><strong>NK:</strong> Coming from a marketing agency background, I realised that we needed to build an in-house marketing team and then focus on creating a brand rather than just marketing individual shoes. We knew we could not market individual products the way a traditional brand does, so we decided to create a culture around Swag Kicks. I took inspiration from brands like Coca-Cola and Red Bull that sell their product by building a lifestyle around it. We collaborated with break dancers, the basketball crowd and even mountaineers in Islamabad. We gave these communities a platform, adopted their vibe and made it part of our brand identity. Then we started engaging with the younger population. We identified where they hung out on social media and what topics they were interested in. For instance, a kid in Faisalabad might be into Quick Style. So we began collaborating with hip-hop artists in Karachi and Lahore, promoting them on our socials, and essentially aligning Swag Kicks with the cultural moments and movements that our audience cares about. We made thrifting cool again by building a community and a culture around it.</p>
<p><strong>AS: Have inflation and boycott movements impacted your ability to source from global brands?</strong></p>
<p><strong>NK:</strong> Thrift cycles have an inbuilt time lag, so the effects of any current boycott will not be felt in our inventory until next year. The immediate issue is inflation and the dollar-rupee parity. We buy everything in dollars and prices have essentially doubled. If we pass that cost to our customers, it becomes a problem because people are still very price-sensitive. A preloved pair of Nikes for six to seven thousand rupees makes sense, but if it jumps to Rs 10,000-11,000, it is not appealing anymore. We have tried selling cheaper shoes for Rs 2,500-3,000, but they do not last as the quality is already degraded and this ends up hurting our brand image. It is a constant struggle to figure out where to position ourselves. Right now, we are leaning toward sticking with shoes priced around six to seven thousand rupees, but it is a tough market to navigate. One of the reasons we are investing in our SaaS product is to create something in Pakistan that we can export globally and that will help us manage the impact on our direct-to-consumer (D2C) business.</p>
<p><strong>AS: How does Swag Kicks give back to the local economy?</strong></p>
<p><strong>NK:</strong> The best way of giving back is by investing heavily in local talent, and we have worked with artists, musicians and athletes – people who might not have the means to afford expensive gear. There is an athlete in Sukkur who cannot afford $200 shoes, but he buys a particular pair of Asics from us; this is the kind of impact we are making. We are democratising access to quality products and providing sustainable options. We are also creating opportunities within our own team. Our Shopify manager started out packing boxes in the warehouse. Over the years, he learnt data skills, SQL and Python, and he is now enrolled in a computer science programme and on track to becoming a data engineer. This is just one example and we have hundreds of stories like this. We are empowering people at every level, giving them opportunities to grow and build better futures.</p>
<p><strong>AS: How does Swag Kicks differentiate itself from competitors?</strong></p>
<p><strong>NK:</strong> The key differentiator is our customer and user experience. Since we are all sourcing similar products, there is no real product distinction. What sets us apart is how we communicate our brand story and interact with our customers online. Many thrift stores focus on being cheap and appealing; we wanted to move away from that narrative. We conducted research to understand who our customers are and found that a lot of young people relate to the message behind Swag Kicks. It was surprising to learn that half the classrooms in institutions like the Karachi Grammar School shop with us. This trickle-down effect means that if aspirational groups embrace us, it eventually spreads to others, regardless of social class. We nailed that approach, focusing on the quality of the experience rather than affordability.</p>
<p><strong>AS: You said you want Swag Kicks to become the biggest thrift brand in the world. Are you on track to make that happen?</strong></p>
<p><strong>NK:</strong> Our ultimate goal is not just to become the biggest D2C thrift brand in the world, but to be the leading force in digitising thrift globally. Although we are focused on D2C, we have also cracked supply, ensuring consistent, reliable access to quality products and we were the first to do this effectively. However, the bigger vision lies in our SaaS product and consultancy, helping other brands navigate the sustainable and preloved market. Global brands like Nike, Adidas and Lululemon are starting to go into resale, especially as European regulations mandate more sustainably sourced materials. However, these big players do not have the expertise or infrastructure to sell used products and this is where we come in. Major brands have approached us for advice on how to sell their own pre-loved items. So, whether it’s through D2C, our SaaS or consultancy, we aim to be the company that digitises thrifting on a global scale. That’s our real ambition, and we are well on track for it.</p>
<p><em>For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145297</guid>
      <pubDate>Wed, 22 Jan 2025 11:08:54 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Alifya Sohail)</author>
      <media:content url="https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/221234012229a7a.png?r=123425" type="image/png" medium="image" height="840" width="1400">
        <media:thumbnail url="https://i.dawn.com/thumbnail/2025/01/221234012229a7a.png?r=123425"/>
        <media:title/>
      </media:content>
    </item>
    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>A Portrayal Drawn in Music</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145316/a-portrayal-drawn-in-music</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;At the age of five, Usman Riaz was already playing his grandmother’s harmonium with an extraordinary deftness that left his family at a loss for words. Recognising his talent, his parents enrolled him in classical piano lessons. And thus began the story of Usman Riaz.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“We all grew up under the shade of Dada Mamu”, says Riaz, alluding to the scale of Zia Mohyeddin’s influence on his family. “I was lucky to be born into a creative and artistic family.” Given that his great-grandfather was a music professor and violinist, his grandmother a classically trained singer, his father an actor and his mother an artist, he faced no resistance in his decision to pursue his dreams.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I have been drawing ever since I could hold a pencil; in fact, longer than I have been playing music.” It is one of the reasons why he was so drawn to animation, and in a way, filmmaking combines all his passions – storytelling, drawing and music. “I still find it difficult to believe I have made a feature film. It’s strange because I am such a fan of film, and now I have my own, and that’s a special feeling.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2024/12/2413455025b5ba6.png?r=135154'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was a viewing of Disney’s &lt;em&gt;The Lion King&lt;/em&gt; that altered the course of his life. “I was only three when I watched it, but I remember how the colours and vividness spoke to me.” Later, he would go on to watch Studio Ghibli’s &lt;em&gt;Princess Mononoke&lt;/em&gt;, a seminal film that further entrenched him in the world of hand-drawn animation. “I have been obsessing over Hayao Miyazaki’s work ever since, and Studio Ghibli put me on the path I am on now.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Learning to play the piano at a young age helped him develop a deep understanding of classical music, allowing him to co-compose the score for &lt;em&gt;The Glassworker&lt;/em&gt; with his friend, Carmine Diflorio. He also plays the guitar, and it was his dexterity in percussive guitar that paved his way to TED.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="when-i-look-back-it-feels-as-though-i-have-been-on-a-path-but-in-the-moment-everything-just-felt-extremely-organic" href="#when-i-look-back-it-feels-as-though-i-have-been-on-a-path-but-in-the-moment-everything-just-felt-extremely-organic" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #ce6933; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;“When I look back, it feels as though I have been on a path, but in the moment everything just felt extremely organic.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After finishing school, he joined the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture as an illustration and graphic design major, where he spent two and a half years before being selected for the TED Fellowship and embarking on a world tour. At a Google conference during his fellowship with TED, he was approached by the Berklee College of Music’s dean of admissions and offered a scholarship. He studied at Berklee for two years before setting off on a TED trip to Japan, where he was invited to speak about his animation work.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In Japan, Riaz visited animation studios, including “my favourite animation studio in the world” – Studio Ghibli – an experience he describes as “magical.” He was fortunate enough to observe Miyazaki and describes being able to study the maestro at work as “a spiritual experience. I cried a lot during that trip; I felt like I was meant to be there and see those things.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2024/12/24135125dc61ddf.jpg?r=135154'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After a period of vacillation, he made the difficult decision of withdrawing from Berklee to pursue his dream of filmmaking and animation. “I am a two-time university dropout,” he admits with a smile.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="it-was-scary-dropping-out-of-berklee-because-i-had-a-full-scholarship-and-i-didnt-want-to-be-ungrateful-but-i-had-to-follow-my-instincts-and-my-heart" href="#it-was-scary-dropping-out-of-berklee-because-i-had-a-full-scholarship-and-i-didnt-want-to-be-ungrateful-but-i-had-to-follow-my-instincts-and-my-heart" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #ce6933; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;“It was scary dropping out of Berklee because I had a full scholarship and I didn’t want to be ungrateful, but I had to follow my instincts and my heart.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was during a trip to the Murano glass factory in Italy that he conceived the initial idea for &lt;em&gt;The Glassworker&lt;/em&gt;. “It was such an eye-opening experience. I had no choice but to pocket the visual.” In 2013, he began writing and conceptualising a few stories, &lt;em&gt;The Glassworker&lt;/em&gt; being one of them. He eventually settled on a film that married elements of glassblowing with violin music, thinking that it would be less ambitious. “I was naive,” he laughs, “it turned out to be extremely difficult.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In 2015, he formed Mano Animation Studios with his wife, Mariam Riaz Paracha. Modelling his approach to Japanese filmmakers like Miyazaki and Mamoru Hosoda, he started by drawing the storyboard for the entire film. “I knew exactly what I wanted and how long each scene had to be. I drew a whole comic book of the movie.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As a graduate of the Miyazaki school of thought, he was careful to take a staunch anti-war stance in the film. “I was really drawn to the metaphor of a glass shop during wartime,” emphasising his decision to layer themes of vulnerability against violence.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2024/12/24125129c2d8892.jpg?r=135154'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The anti-war message is also close to his heart, and a significant theme in the film is how war results in the destruction of relationships and contributes to anxiety. “If children can grasp these concepts, I think I have done a decent job.” He also drew from the concept of unattainable love, a hallmark of Urdu &lt;em&gt;shayari&lt;/em&gt;, when he wrote the love story of Vincent and Alliz, the two protagonists. On this score, he cites David Lean’s &lt;em&gt;Dr Zhivago&lt;/em&gt; as a major influence. “I really wanted to encapsulate an old-timey and romantic Hollywood feel in the film.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;While working on the film, Riaz opted for a rather unusual setup – a piano positioned at the rear of his animation desk. “I would draw and then swivel my chair to play something on the piano.” Working this way allowed the music and visuals to interact from the film’s embryonic stages.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="often-the-music-pulled-me-in-directions-that-informed-the-visuals" href="#often-the-music-pulled-me-in-directions-that-informed-the-visuals" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #ce6933; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;“Often, the music pulled me in directions that informed the visuals.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;To consistently work on one project requires grit and perseverance – the work had to be done even when Riaz didn’t feel like it because there was a schedule to adhere to. “I am very disciplined when it comes to my work – just not when it comes to life.” He admits that sometimes he was swallowed by “the enormity of the task” but propelled to continue by faith and that “this film was made purely on stubbornness.” Directing the film was akin to conducting an orchestra and he felt like he was reprising his role as a conductor at Berklee. As the conductor, he embodied the qualities of a metronome and artfully staggered the pulse of music, allowing every section to shine, from the woodwinds to the percussion.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2024/12/2413512520135c6.png?r=135154'  alt='' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Emerging from the cave of creation once the film was released was like exiting a “bizarre black hole.” And, having been so completely submerged in the project, Riaz sacrificed a great deal of himself to ensure the film’s completion. Slowly and surely, he is finding himself again and hopes to cork that “feeling of the world having changed around me but me staying the same.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;There are many things to look forward to concerning &lt;em&gt;The Glassworker&lt;/em&gt;, especially since it is in the running for Best International Feature Film and Best Animated Feature Film as Pakistan’s official submission to the 97th Academy Awards, but Riaz is eagerly anticipating his “long holiday” – an indulgence he has forfeited for a decade.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;At only 33, Usman Riaz stands before us as the director, lead animator and co-composer of Pakistan’s first hand-drawn animated film, in his all-black ensemble and signature scarf styled with a Parisian knot at  the neck.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Photos: Mano Animation Studios&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>At the age of five, Usman Riaz was already playing his grandmother’s harmonium with an extraordinary deftness that left his family at a loss for words. Recognising his talent, his parents enrolled him in classical piano lessons. And thus began the story of Usman Riaz.</p>
<p>“We all grew up under the shade of Dada Mamu”, says Riaz, alluding to the scale of Zia Mohyeddin’s influence on his family. “I was lucky to be born into a creative and artistic family.” Given that his great-grandfather was a music professor and violinist, his grandmother a classically trained singer, his father an actor and his mother an artist, he faced no resistance in his decision to pursue his dreams.</p>
<p>“I have been drawing ever since I could hold a pencil; in fact, longer than I have been playing music.” It is one of the reasons why he was so drawn to animation, and in a way, filmmaking combines all his passions – storytelling, drawing and music. “I still find it difficult to believe I have made a feature film. It’s strange because I am such a fan of film, and now I have my own, and that’s a special feeling.”</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2024/12/2413455025b5ba6.png?r=135154'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>It was a viewing of Disney’s <em>The Lion King</em> that altered the course of his life. “I was only three when I watched it, but I remember how the colours and vividness spoke to me.” Later, he would go on to watch Studio Ghibli’s <em>Princess Mononoke</em>, a seminal film that further entrenched him in the world of hand-drawn animation. “I have been obsessing over Hayao Miyazaki’s work ever since, and Studio Ghibli put me on the path I am on now.”</p>
<p>Learning to play the piano at a young age helped him develop a deep understanding of classical music, allowing him to co-compose the score for <em>The Glassworker</em> with his friend, Carmine Diflorio. He also plays the guitar, and it was his dexterity in percussive guitar that paved his way to TED.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="when-i-look-back-it-feels-as-though-i-have-been-on-a-path-but-in-the-moment-everything-just-felt-extremely-organic" href="#when-i-look-back-it-feels-as-though-i-have-been-on-a-path-but-in-the-moment-everything-just-felt-extremely-organic" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #ce6933; text-align: left;" markdown="1">“When I look back, it feels as though I have been on a path, but in the moment everything just felt extremely organic.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>After finishing school, he joined the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture as an illustration and graphic design major, where he spent two and a half years before being selected for the TED Fellowship and embarking on a world tour. At a Google conference during his fellowship with TED, he was approached by the Berklee College of Music’s dean of admissions and offered a scholarship. He studied at Berklee for two years before setting off on a TED trip to Japan, where he was invited to speak about his animation work.</p>
<p>In Japan, Riaz visited animation studios, including “my favourite animation studio in the world” – Studio Ghibli – an experience he describes as “magical.” He was fortunate enough to observe Miyazaki and describes being able to study the maestro at work as “a spiritual experience. I cried a lot during that trip; I felt like I was meant to be there and see those things.”</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2024/12/24135125dc61ddf.jpg?r=135154'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>After a period of vacillation, he made the difficult decision of withdrawing from Berklee to pursue his dream of filmmaking and animation. “I am a two-time university dropout,” he admits with a smile.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="it-was-scary-dropping-out-of-berklee-because-i-had-a-full-scholarship-and-i-didnt-want-to-be-ungrateful-but-i-had-to-follow-my-instincts-and-my-heart" href="#it-was-scary-dropping-out-of-berklee-because-i-had-a-full-scholarship-and-i-didnt-want-to-be-ungrateful-but-i-had-to-follow-my-instincts-and-my-heart" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #ce6933; text-align: left;" markdown="1">“It was scary dropping out of Berklee because I had a full scholarship and I didn’t want to be ungrateful, but I had to follow my instincts and my heart.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>It was during a trip to the Murano glass factory in Italy that he conceived the initial idea for <em>The Glassworker</em>. “It was such an eye-opening experience. I had no choice but to pocket the visual.” In 2013, he began writing and conceptualising a few stories, <em>The Glassworker</em> being one of them. He eventually settled on a film that married elements of glassblowing with violin music, thinking that it would be less ambitious. “I was naive,” he laughs, “it turned out to be extremely difficult.”</p>
<p>In 2015, he formed Mano Animation Studios with his wife, Mariam Riaz Paracha. Modelling his approach to Japanese filmmakers like Miyazaki and Mamoru Hosoda, he started by drawing the storyboard for the entire film. “I knew exactly what I wanted and how long each scene had to be. I drew a whole comic book of the movie.”</p>
<p>As a graduate of the Miyazaki school of thought, he was careful to take a staunch anti-war stance in the film. “I was really drawn to the metaphor of a glass shop during wartime,” emphasising his decision to layer themes of vulnerability against violence.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2024/12/24125129c2d8892.jpg?r=135154'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>The anti-war message is also close to his heart, and a significant theme in the film is how war results in the destruction of relationships and contributes to anxiety. “If children can grasp these concepts, I think I have done a decent job.” He also drew from the concept of unattainable love, a hallmark of Urdu <em>shayari</em>, when he wrote the love story of Vincent and Alliz, the two protagonists. On this score, he cites David Lean’s <em>Dr Zhivago</em> as a major influence. “I really wanted to encapsulate an old-timey and romantic Hollywood feel in the film.”</p>
<p>While working on the film, Riaz opted for a rather unusual setup – a piano positioned at the rear of his animation desk. “I would draw and then swivel my chair to play something on the piano.” Working this way allowed the music and visuals to interact from the film’s embryonic stages.</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="often-the-music-pulled-me-in-directions-that-informed-the-visuals" href="#often-the-music-pulled-me-in-directions-that-informed-the-visuals" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #ce6933; text-align: left;" markdown="1">“Often, the music pulled me in directions that informed the visuals.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>To consistently work on one project requires grit and perseverance – the work had to be done even when Riaz didn’t feel like it because there was a schedule to adhere to. “I am very disciplined when it comes to my work – just not when it comes to life.” He admits that sometimes he was swallowed by “the enormity of the task” but propelled to continue by faith and that “this film was made purely on stubbornness.” Directing the film was akin to conducting an orchestra and he felt like he was reprising his role as a conductor at Berklee. As the conductor, he embodied the qualities of a metronome and artfully staggered the pulse of music, allowing every section to shine, from the woodwinds to the percussion.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2024/12/2413512520135c6.png?r=135154'  alt='' /></picture></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>Emerging from the cave of creation once the film was released was like exiting a “bizarre black hole.” And, having been so completely submerged in the project, Riaz sacrificed a great deal of himself to ensure the film’s completion. Slowly and surely, he is finding himself again and hopes to cork that “feeling of the world having changed around me but me staying the same.”</p>
<p>There are many things to look forward to concerning <em>The Glassworker</em>, especially since it is in the running for Best International Feature Film and Best Animated Feature Film as Pakistan’s official submission to the 97th Academy Awards, but Riaz is eagerly anticipating his “long holiday” – an indulgence he has forfeited for a decade.</p>
<p>At only 33, Usman Riaz stands before us as the director, lead animator and co-composer of Pakistan’s first hand-drawn animated film, in his all-black ensemble and signature scarf styled with a Parisian knot at  the neck.</p>
<p><em>Photos: Mano Animation Studios</em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145316</guid>
      <pubDate>Sat, 18 Jan 2025 12:15:27 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Sophia Khan)</author>
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    <item xmlns:default="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/">
      <title>“Pakistani writing in English has a much wider perspective than most people credit it for”</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145317/pakistani-writing-in-english-has-a-much-wider-perspective-than-most-people-credit-it-for</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AURORA: WHAT WERE THE INFLUENCES THAT TOOK YOU ON THIS VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MUNEEZA SHAMSIE:&lt;/strong&gt; Books were always central to my family life. In a sense, we lived in an anglicised world, even though we were in a bilingual home. My father, Isha’at Habibullah, was sent to boarding school in England at the age of eight and came back to India at age 20, during which time he visited India once when he was 18 – between Oxford and school. My father belonged to a &lt;em&gt;taluqdar&lt;/em&gt; (landowning nobility) family from Oudh. His father was the vice-chancellor of Lucknow University and his mother was a women’s rights activist. In fact, it was exactly 100 years ago that my paternal grandmother, Begum In’am Fatima Habibullah, visited her sons in England. She wrote a book about it: &lt;em&gt;Ta’ssurat-i Safar-i Yurup (Impressions of a Journey to Europe)&lt;/em&gt;. On board a ship, my grandparents met a Turkish gentleman who was rather disparaging about Indians; although my grandfather became rather annoyed about it, my grandmother started to ask him about the Turkish feminist movement. When she arrived in England, the gentleman sent her a whole lot of books about the lives of Turkish women, which she read avidly – supporting the narrative that is now coming out, that there was a much longer tradition of literacy among Indian women, than the British narrative provided. My grandmother became Lucknow’s first woman municipal commissioner. She set up many schools and did a lot to promote welfare. She also joined the Muslim League. She was the one who proposed the resolution that there be a women’s wing of the Muslim League. My father’s family was very anglicised. The Habibullah brothers were known to be a bit eccentric; they were very angrez. My father, having been a communist during his Oxford years, became a lawyer; and, much to my grandfather’s dismay, he joined the Imperial Tobacco Company in Calcutta which he loved. He came to Pakistan after Partition and played an important role in setting up Pakistan’s corporate sector. In those days, one had to negotiate one’s way through colonial times with the British, which was not always easy. In Pakistan, he was the chairman and MD of the Pakistan Tobacco Company.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What about your mother’s side of the family?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; My mother, Begum Jahanara Habibullah, belonged to the princely state of Rampur. Her family had mutinied; they descended from a ruler called Najib Khan Rohilla, who played an important role in history.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Did the whole family join the Indian Mutiny in 1857?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; Well, one of them joined the mutiny, and as the relatives say, they all became guilty by association. The family fort was invaded, the brothers were captured, strung up and hanged, and the rest of the family had to flee. Eventually, the British decided that they had treated this family unfairly – they were restored to favour and given land. My maternal grandfather became the chief minister of Rampur. As a result of the mutiny, many writers and painters from Lucknow and Delhi fled to Rampur and it became a great cultural centre. The Rampuris were great patrons of the arts. My maternal grandmother was from Delhi; she belonged to the princely family of Loharu. My mother was educated in Urdu, Arabic and Persian. She and her sister discarded &lt;em&gt;purdah&lt;/em&gt; in their teens because my &lt;em&gt;khala&lt;/em&gt; had contracted TB and an uncle suggested she go to Switzerland. To do this, my grandfather decided to take his daughters out of &lt;em&gt;purdah&lt;/em&gt;, leaving the rest of the family aghast. In Switzerland, my &lt;em&gt;khala&lt;/em&gt; was completely cured, after which she and my mother were taken on a grand tour of Europe. My mother has written about this in her memoirs. When they returned home, they became part of the entire social world of British India.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How did your parents meet?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; They met in Mussoorie, India. My father was posted in Lahore but he often went to Mussoorie in the summer. My father loved reading and he wanted to read the classics at Oxford, but my grandfather insisted he do law. He continued to read the &lt;em&gt;Iliad&lt;/em&gt; in Greek until his dying day; the book was always by my father’s bedside. He taught my daughter Kamila (Shamsie) about Greek mythology at the age of three, delighted that his little grandchild was so enchanted by it. The novel &lt;em&gt;Home Fire&lt;/em&gt; is Kamila’s reconstruction of Antigone’s story. He would have been so delighted! I grew up in a bilingual home where everybody loved books. Although I went to an English-medium school, my mother was very keen that I should not forget Urdu. Every morning before school, a &lt;em&gt;maulvi sahab&lt;/em&gt; came to teach me the Quran. I learned to write Urdu on a &lt;em&gt;takhti&lt;/em&gt; (slate) which I loved. Why aren’t children nowadays taught to write Urdu on a takhti? It would make it so much more exciting! After kindergarten, I went to another school. In those days, the British presence was very strong and the school I went to had only recently started to admit local pupils; the rest were &lt;em&gt;angrez&lt;/em&gt;. I don’t know what the issue was, whether it was me or the school, but I started doing badly and didn’t want to go to school anymore. In the end, my uncle, Sahibzada Mohammed Yaqub Ali Khan, my mother’s only sibling in Pakistan, advised her to send me to boarding school in England.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How long were you at school in England?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; Nine years. I did my A-levels there. I took A-level history, chemistry and biology. I wanted to be a scientist but my father said that there were no women scientists in Pakistan!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: When did your interest in reading deepen?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; The interest began for a very simple reason. Growing up in England, I was terribly aware that the world I inhabited did not exist in any of the books I read. Yes, there was &lt;em&gt;The Jungle Book&lt;/em&gt;, and I loved it because it had characters with names like Baloo and Sher Khan. But with whom could I share this with? The school was full of colonials. So the reading began because my world did not exist in the books I read. However, I knew that there was such a thing as desis writing in English. My aunt Attia Hosain, married to my eldest &lt;em&gt;chacha&lt;/em&gt;, published her first collection of short stories, &lt;em&gt;Phoenix Bled&lt;/em&gt;, in 1953, and &lt;em&gt;Sunlight on a Broken Column&lt;/em&gt; in 1961 – the book she is best remembered for. Her son, Waris Hussein, is a film director and her daughter, Shama Habibullah, is a film producer.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Were there any writers who evoked this anglicised world in English or Urdu?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; Qurratulain Hyder did. But it was only when I came back from England that I discovered that world. One of the reasons for my interest in Pakistani English literature was because I grew up in England, so I was aware of this way of thinking of yourself as English and everybody there reminding you that you aren’t while everybody here reminded you of another culture that you left behind.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How old were you when you came back to Pakistan?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; I was 19. Before that, I spent a year at Queen’s Secretarial College in London. The curious thing is that exactly 50 years later, I went to London to judge the DSC Prize for South Asian Literature, and we stayed in a hotel located just a few houses from Queen’s.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What did you do when you came back to Pakistan?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; In those days, no one sent their children to be educated abroad with the idea that they would stay on. You came home and contributed to your country; if you didn’t, you were considered unpatriotic. When I came back, I started working for the Belgian Embassy. I also discovered writers like Ahmed Ali, Kaleem Omar and Adrian Husain. They were writing in English and creating worlds I didn’t know about. After I married, I didn’t want to go to coffee parties; they were so boring! I was always reading and my friend, Naz Ikramullah, encouraged me to write. Her mother, Begum Ikramullah, took me under her wing and introduced me to Urdu literature. She introduced me to all sorts of books and also encouraged me to write.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: When did your literary career begin in earnest?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; It began on a completely nepotistic note. A lot of foreign films were being shown in Karachi and some were directed by Waris Husein. When I went to England, I asked Waris for an interview – he had won a BAFTA for &lt;em&gt;Edward and Mrs Simpson&lt;/em&gt; in 1979. The interview was published in the &lt;em&gt;Morning News&lt;/em&gt;. I then interviewed Begum Ikramullah’s daughter, Princess Sarvath El Hassan of Jordan, which was published in &lt;em&gt;Dawn&lt;/em&gt;. The next morning, Zubeida Mustafa rang me up to ask whether I would like to write for &lt;em&gt;Dawn&lt;/em&gt;. I nearly fell off my chair; I was so bowled over. That changed everything. I became a feature writer for the newspaper. I was sent here and there and I loved it. It got me out of my enclosed world and opened up a new one. Then, Muhammad Ali Siddiqui discovered I liked to read and he started giving me book reviews to write for &lt;em&gt;Dawn&lt;/em&gt;. Hanif Kureishi, who I coincidentally interviewed again recently, was one of my earliest interviewees, as was Deborah Moggach. Gradually, my work began to focus entirely on literature.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Was that when you started to focus on Pakistani English literature?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; I was following it from the beginning. It was one of the reasons why I started publishing anthologies. Everyone had forgotten the debate about why desis should not be writing in English.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: When did this debate start?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; Post-Partition. The thought process was that one wrote in English to impress the angrez, but now that they were gone, why write in English? When Ahmed Ali’s wife translated his novel, &lt;em&gt;Twilight in Delhi&lt;/em&gt;, into Urdu, many people felt it had been restored to its natural language. Indeed, Ahmed Ali introduced all kinds of new things in his English prose. He used Urdu words, he translated Urdu poetry. He captured the sounds of Delhi and the subcontinent in English. All this is appreciated now, but it wasn’t then and he was criticised for it. Ahmed Ali made quite a dent as an Urdu writer, but he also wrote in English to convey an alternative view of India to the British. He didn’t write for the British. In &lt;em&gt;Twilight in Delhi&lt;/em&gt;, which was published in 1940, he wrote about the Indian Mutiny of 1857 and the 1928 epidemic, among other things. It was fascinating. I reread the book during Covid and the kind of resonance it had was extraordinary. It was a very anti-colonial narrative.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: How do you respond to the criticism that English is an
elitist language?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; Are we saying that people who lead elite lives have no right to express themselves? If someone comes from the elite and writes in Urdu, you don’t object. Why criticise an elite person writing in English? Furthermore, elitist or not, in the context of English world literature, you are writing from the margins and filling in gaps. Especially in the diaspora, you have authors writing in English about their family experiences and the working class experience. John Siddique writes about his father walking across the Punjab during Partition and the immigrant experience in England. Zaffar Kunail is a highly awarded poet. His father was a Pakistani Kashmiri – he came from a family of bricklayers and he evokes that world. Pakistani writing in English has a much wider perspective than most people credit it for. Remember, there is a difference between what is read in the West and what we read. Some of the books that are rejected by a British publisher will be accepted by a publisher in India or Pakistan. In India, the tradition of writing in English developed faster than in Pakistan, but it is coming to be accepted here as well. We don’t ask the younger generation why they aren’t writing in Urdu, yet in the sixties and seventies, Pakistanis writing in English had to face this question.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Shouldn’t these books be translated at least?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS&lt;/strong&gt;: Of course they should. Aamer Hussein, who wrote in English all his life, started writing Urdu stories and translating them into English. Mohammad Hanif is very strong in both languages and has translated his books into Urdu. A lot of our writers are bilingual. Harris Khalique writes in three languages; Punjabi, Urdu and English. Osama Siddique writes fiction and non-fiction in English and Urdu; I am fascinated by bilingual writers. You ask them what it is that makes them express themselves in a particular language and they tell you it’s because one language offers them one thing and the other language something else.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: When was your first book published?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; In 1999. It was &lt;em&gt;A Dragonfly in the Sun&lt;/em&gt;, an anthology of English literature published by OUP. It brought together 44 writers of Pakistani origin writing in English. The anthology was my introduction to the School of Oriental &amp;amp; African Studies (SOAS) and put me in touch with a more academic environment. I also started writing for the &lt;em&gt;Literary Encyclopaedia&lt;/em&gt; and I am now their area editor. In 2004, I became the bibliographer for Pakistan for the &lt;em&gt;Journal of Commonwealth Literature&lt;/em&gt;, now known as &lt;em&gt;Literature, Critique, and Empire Today&lt;/em&gt;. My predecessors included people such as Maya Jamil, Alamgir Hashmi and Syed Ali Asha. All this expanded my horizons. My second anthology, &lt;em&gt;Leaving Home&lt;/em&gt;, was a collection of prose. The book covers the Pakistani experience of leaving home from a wider perspective – during Partition, into the diaspora, and from the rural areas into the cities. My third book began as a conversation with Ritu Menon, the Indian publisher of &lt;em&gt;Women Unlimited&lt;/em&gt;, about a book on women. This became &lt;em&gt;And the World Changed&lt;/em&gt;. To my amazement, the US edition of the book won the Gold IPPY Award and the Bronze Foreword Award. In 2017, I published &lt;em&gt;Hybrid Tapestries&lt;/em&gt;, which was an exploration of the development of Pakistani English literature.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: What is next?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; I am working on a new anthology called &lt;em&gt;In the New Century&lt;/em&gt;; it is a follow-up to &lt;em&gt;A Dragonfly in the Sun&lt;/em&gt;. I already have 84 writers on board; it goes from 1997 to 2017.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A: Looking back at your contributions to Pakistani English literature, what does it feel like?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MS:&lt;/strong&gt; Well, I am just working away. It all is a bit amazing. It takes me by surprise, especially when there are moments like going to London for the DSC Prize and staying down the road from where I had done my course at Queen’s 50 years ago. I still think to myself – who could have imagined this future?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Muneeza Shamsie was in conversation with Mariam Ali Baig.
For feedback: &lt;a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com"&gt;aurora@dawn.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p><strong>AURORA: WHAT WERE THE INFLUENCES THAT TOOK YOU ON THIS VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY</strong>?</p>
<p><strong>MUNEEZA SHAMSIE:</strong> Books were always central to my family life. In a sense, we lived in an anglicised world, even though we were in a bilingual home. My father, Isha’at Habibullah, was sent to boarding school in England at the age of eight and came back to India at age 20, during which time he visited India once when he was 18 – between Oxford and school. My father belonged to a <em>taluqdar</em> (landowning nobility) family from Oudh. His father was the vice-chancellor of Lucknow University and his mother was a women’s rights activist. In fact, it was exactly 100 years ago that my paternal grandmother, Begum In’am Fatima Habibullah, visited her sons in England. She wrote a book about it: <em>Ta’ssurat-i Safar-i Yurup (Impressions of a Journey to Europe)</em>. On board a ship, my grandparents met a Turkish gentleman who was rather disparaging about Indians; although my grandfather became rather annoyed about it, my grandmother started to ask him about the Turkish feminist movement. When she arrived in England, the gentleman sent her a whole lot of books about the lives of Turkish women, which she read avidly – supporting the narrative that is now coming out, that there was a much longer tradition of literacy among Indian women, than the British narrative provided. My grandmother became Lucknow’s first woman municipal commissioner. She set up many schools and did a lot to promote welfare. She also joined the Muslim League. She was the one who proposed the resolution that there be a women’s wing of the Muslim League. My father’s family was very anglicised. The Habibullah brothers were known to be a bit eccentric; they were very angrez. My father, having been a communist during his Oxford years, became a lawyer; and, much to my grandfather’s dismay, he joined the Imperial Tobacco Company in Calcutta which he loved. He came to Pakistan after Partition and played an important role in setting up Pakistan’s corporate sector. In those days, one had to negotiate one’s way through colonial times with the British, which was not always easy. In Pakistan, he was the chairman and MD of the Pakistan Tobacco Company.</p>
<p><strong>A: What about your mother’s side of the family?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> My mother, Begum Jahanara Habibullah, belonged to the princely state of Rampur. Her family had mutinied; they descended from a ruler called Najib Khan Rohilla, who played an important role in history.</p>
<p><strong>A: Did the whole family join the Indian Mutiny in 1857?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> Well, one of them joined the mutiny, and as the relatives say, they all became guilty by association. The family fort was invaded, the brothers were captured, strung up and hanged, and the rest of the family had to flee. Eventually, the British decided that they had treated this family unfairly – they were restored to favour and given land. My maternal grandfather became the chief minister of Rampur. As a result of the mutiny, many writers and painters from Lucknow and Delhi fled to Rampur and it became a great cultural centre. The Rampuris were great patrons of the arts. My maternal grandmother was from Delhi; she belonged to the princely family of Loharu. My mother was educated in Urdu, Arabic and Persian. She and her sister discarded <em>purdah</em> in their teens because my <em>khala</em> had contracted TB and an uncle suggested she go to Switzerland. To do this, my grandfather decided to take his daughters out of <em>purdah</em>, leaving the rest of the family aghast. In Switzerland, my <em>khala</em> was completely cured, after which she and my mother were taken on a grand tour of Europe. My mother has written about this in her memoirs. When they returned home, they became part of the entire social world of British India.</p>
<p><strong>A: How did your parents meet?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> They met in Mussoorie, India. My father was posted in Lahore but he often went to Mussoorie in the summer. My father loved reading and he wanted to read the classics at Oxford, but my grandfather insisted he do law. He continued to read the <em>Iliad</em> in Greek until his dying day; the book was always by my father’s bedside. He taught my daughter Kamila (Shamsie) about Greek mythology at the age of three, delighted that his little grandchild was so enchanted by it. The novel <em>Home Fire</em> is Kamila’s reconstruction of Antigone’s story. He would have been so delighted! I grew up in a bilingual home where everybody loved books. Although I went to an English-medium school, my mother was very keen that I should not forget Urdu. Every morning before school, a <em>maulvi sahab</em> came to teach me the Quran. I learned to write Urdu on a <em>takhti</em> (slate) which I loved. Why aren’t children nowadays taught to write Urdu on a takhti? It would make it so much more exciting! After kindergarten, I went to another school. In those days, the British presence was very strong and the school I went to had only recently started to admit local pupils; the rest were <em>angrez</em>. I don’t know what the issue was, whether it was me or the school, but I started doing badly and didn’t want to go to school anymore. In the end, my uncle, Sahibzada Mohammed Yaqub Ali Khan, my mother’s only sibling in Pakistan, advised her to send me to boarding school in England.</p>
<p><strong>A: How long were you at school in England?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> Nine years. I did my A-levels there. I took A-level history, chemistry and biology. I wanted to be a scientist but my father said that there were no women scientists in Pakistan!</p>
<p><strong>A: When did your interest in reading deepen?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> The interest began for a very simple reason. Growing up in England, I was terribly aware that the world I inhabited did not exist in any of the books I read. Yes, there was <em>The Jungle Book</em>, and I loved it because it had characters with names like Baloo and Sher Khan. But with whom could I share this with? The school was full of colonials. So the reading began because my world did not exist in the books I read. However, I knew that there was such a thing as desis writing in English. My aunt Attia Hosain, married to my eldest <em>chacha</em>, published her first collection of short stories, <em>Phoenix Bled</em>, in 1953, and <em>Sunlight on a Broken Column</em> in 1961 – the book she is best remembered for. Her son, Waris Hussein, is a film director and her daughter, Shama Habibullah, is a film producer.</p>
<p><strong>A: Were there any writers who evoked this anglicised world in English or Urdu?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> Qurratulain Hyder did. But it was only when I came back from England that I discovered that world. One of the reasons for my interest in Pakistani English literature was because I grew up in England, so I was aware of this way of thinking of yourself as English and everybody there reminding you that you aren’t while everybody here reminded you of another culture that you left behind.</p>
<p><strong>A: How old were you when you came back to Pakistan?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> I was 19. Before that, I spent a year at Queen’s Secretarial College in London. The curious thing is that exactly 50 years later, I went to London to judge the DSC Prize for South Asian Literature, and we stayed in a hotel located just a few houses from Queen’s.</p>
<p><strong>A: What did you do when you came back to Pakistan?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> In those days, no one sent their children to be educated abroad with the idea that they would stay on. You came home and contributed to your country; if you didn’t, you were considered unpatriotic. When I came back, I started working for the Belgian Embassy. I also discovered writers like Ahmed Ali, Kaleem Omar and Adrian Husain. They were writing in English and creating worlds I didn’t know about. After I married, I didn’t want to go to coffee parties; they were so boring! I was always reading and my friend, Naz Ikramullah, encouraged me to write. Her mother, Begum Ikramullah, took me under her wing and introduced me to Urdu literature. She introduced me to all sorts of books and also encouraged me to write.</p>
<p><strong>A: When did your literary career begin in earnest?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> It began on a completely nepotistic note. A lot of foreign films were being shown in Karachi and some were directed by Waris Husein. When I went to England, I asked Waris for an interview – he had won a BAFTA for <em>Edward and Mrs Simpson</em> in 1979. The interview was published in the <em>Morning News</em>. I then interviewed Begum Ikramullah’s daughter, Princess Sarvath El Hassan of Jordan, which was published in <em>Dawn</em>. The next morning, Zubeida Mustafa rang me up to ask whether I would like to write for <em>Dawn</em>. I nearly fell off my chair; I was so bowled over. That changed everything. I became a feature writer for the newspaper. I was sent here and there and I loved it. It got me out of my enclosed world and opened up a new one. Then, Muhammad Ali Siddiqui discovered I liked to read and he started giving me book reviews to write for <em>Dawn</em>. Hanif Kureishi, who I coincidentally interviewed again recently, was one of my earliest interviewees, as was Deborah Moggach. Gradually, my work began to focus entirely on literature.</p>
<p><strong>A: Was that when you started to focus on Pakistani English literature?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> I was following it from the beginning. It was one of the reasons why I started publishing anthologies. Everyone had forgotten the debate about why desis should not be writing in English.</p>
<p><strong>A: When did this debate start?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> Post-Partition. The thought process was that one wrote in English to impress the angrez, but now that they were gone, why write in English? When Ahmed Ali’s wife translated his novel, <em>Twilight in Delhi</em>, into Urdu, many people felt it had been restored to its natural language. Indeed, Ahmed Ali introduced all kinds of new things in his English prose. He used Urdu words, he translated Urdu poetry. He captured the sounds of Delhi and the subcontinent in English. All this is appreciated now, but it wasn’t then and he was criticised for it. Ahmed Ali made quite a dent as an Urdu writer, but he also wrote in English to convey an alternative view of India to the British. He didn’t write for the British. In <em>Twilight in Delhi</em>, which was published in 1940, he wrote about the Indian Mutiny of 1857 and the 1928 epidemic, among other things. It was fascinating. I reread the book during Covid and the kind of resonance it had was extraordinary. It was a very anti-colonial narrative.</p>
<p><strong>A: How do you respond to the criticism that English is an
elitist language?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> Are we saying that people who lead elite lives have no right to express themselves? If someone comes from the elite and writes in Urdu, you don’t object. Why criticise an elite person writing in English? Furthermore, elitist or not, in the context of English world literature, you are writing from the margins and filling in gaps. Especially in the diaspora, you have authors writing in English about their family experiences and the working class experience. John Siddique writes about his father walking across the Punjab during Partition and the immigrant experience in England. Zaffar Kunail is a highly awarded poet. His father was a Pakistani Kashmiri – he came from a family of bricklayers and he evokes that world. Pakistani writing in English has a much wider perspective than most people credit it for. Remember, there is a difference between what is read in the West and what we read. Some of the books that are rejected by a British publisher will be accepted by a publisher in India or Pakistan. In India, the tradition of writing in English developed faster than in Pakistan, but it is coming to be accepted here as well. We don’t ask the younger generation why they aren’t writing in Urdu, yet in the sixties and seventies, Pakistanis writing in English had to face this question.</p>
<p><strong>A: Shouldn’t these books be translated at least?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS</strong>: Of course they should. Aamer Hussein, who wrote in English all his life, started writing Urdu stories and translating them into English. Mohammad Hanif is very strong in both languages and has translated his books into Urdu. A lot of our writers are bilingual. Harris Khalique writes in three languages; Punjabi, Urdu and English. Osama Siddique writes fiction and non-fiction in English and Urdu; I am fascinated by bilingual writers. You ask them what it is that makes them express themselves in a particular language and they tell you it’s because one language offers them one thing and the other language something else.</p>
<p><strong>A: When was your first book published?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> In 1999. It was <em>A Dragonfly in the Sun</em>, an anthology of English literature published by OUP. It brought together 44 writers of Pakistani origin writing in English. The anthology was my introduction to the School of Oriental &amp; African Studies (SOAS) and put me in touch with a more academic environment. I also started writing for the <em>Literary Encyclopaedia</em> and I am now their area editor. In 2004, I became the bibliographer for Pakistan for the <em>Journal of Commonwealth Literature</em>, now known as <em>Literature, Critique, and Empire Today</em>. My predecessors included people such as Maya Jamil, Alamgir Hashmi and Syed Ali Asha. All this expanded my horizons. My second anthology, <em>Leaving Home</em>, was a collection of prose. The book covers the Pakistani experience of leaving home from a wider perspective – during Partition, into the diaspora, and from the rural areas into the cities. My third book began as a conversation with Ritu Menon, the Indian publisher of <em>Women Unlimited</em>, about a book on women. This became <em>And the World Changed</em>. To my amazement, the US edition of the book won the Gold IPPY Award and the Bronze Foreword Award. In 2017, I published <em>Hybrid Tapestries</em>, which was an exploration of the development of Pakistani English literature.</p>
<p><strong>A: What is next?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> I am working on a new anthology called <em>In the New Century</em>; it is a follow-up to <em>A Dragonfly in the Sun</em>. I already have 84 writers on board; it goes from 1997 to 2017.</p>
<p><strong>A: Looking back at your contributions to Pakistani English literature, what does it feel like?</strong></p>
<p><strong>MS:</strong> Well, I am just working away. It all is a bit amazing. It takes me by surprise, especially when there are moments like going to London for the DSC Prize and staying down the road from where I had done my course at Queen’s 50 years ago. I still think to myself – who could have imagined this future?</p>
<p><em>Muneeza Shamsie was in conversation with Mariam Ali Baig.
For feedback: <a href="mailto:aurora@dawn.com">aurora@dawn.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145317</guid>
      <pubDate>Fri, 17 Jan 2025 13:09:38 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (AuroraMariam Ali Baig)</author>
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      <title>Substance Over Symbolism</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145327/substance-over-symbolism</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;As the first female Director of Marketing in Pakistan’s agricultural sector – traditionally governed by patriarchal norms and glacially slow administrative machinations – Rabel Sadozai has grown accustomed to the spotlight.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Publications laud her “first woman” accomplishments, while industry events scramble to book her for keynote sessions. But for this marketing executive, the titles and accolades, although appreciated, have never been the focal point.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Rather, her ambitions revolve around sparking systemic change – innovations and infrastructures that will outlast any single leader, including herself. “Leadership is not about titles. It is about creating space for others, about moving the conversation forward.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In the agricultural sector which defines the livelihoods of more than half of Pakistan’s population, leadership positions are often relegated to a handful of elite figures who perpetuate the status quo. Against this backdrop, Sadozai’s swift rise over two decades, culminating in her directorship at the Fatima Group – a major fertiliser company – signalled an atypical break in those power structures. While many are quick to shine a spotlight on her gender, she prefers to highlight the work that truly matters to her: stewarding Pakistan’s agricultural industry toward a more equitable, innovative future.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;That future, she believes, is shaped by the experiences and voices of people closest to the issues. “You have to listen to the people closest to the issues – they are the ones who know most clearly what needs to be done.” Respect and recognise the limitations of your lived experiences by valuing the lived experiences of those you have professed to help, is Sadozai’s ethos.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This philosophy is, in many ways, rooted in her upbringing. Born and raised in Karachi, Sadozai found herself surrounded by, in her words, “legendary” women from a young age. She attended St. Joseph’s Convent School, where, she recalls, the nuns didn’t just teach us subjects. They taught us how to think, how to push boundaries.“&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In her broader family circle, formidable women were also front and centre. Her &lt;em&gt;khala&lt;/em&gt; (maternal aunt), the celebrated playwright Haseena Moin, penned some of Pakistan’s most iconic television serials.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Her heroines were bold, unafraid to speak their minds,” Sadozai said. “That left a mark on me.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Sadozai did her MBA from the Institute of Business Administration (IBA, Karachi). While the institution is well-known for producing some of Pakistan’s top corporate leaders, for Sadozai, the degree was a stepping stone toward honing a deeper understanding of what she calls “ecosystemic marketing”: a holistic view of how a product, a target market and societal needs intersect. “For me, marketing is about connecting the dots,” she explained. “You need to understand the entire ecosystem – what your product is, who your audience is, and how you can bridge that gap in a way that creates real value.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Her early career path zigzagged through various planning and management positions, and by 2013, she joined the Fatima Group as a planning manager. Those who worked alongside her describe a colleague with a penchant for detail and a willingness to roll up her sleeves. Junior employees found her door always open – a corporate rarity. Within a few years, she rocketed up the corporate ladder, taking on increasing responsibilities until she was named Director of Marketing and Sales.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;While the headlines applauded ‘the first female director of marketing in the agriculture industry of Pakistan’, Sadozai was hard at work. In 2023, the company’s sales volume in fertilisers surged to 2.8 million metric tons, grossing Rs 235 billion. Although these numbers draw applause from shareholders and local media, for Sadozai, market performance alone isn’t sufficient to gauge success.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“You learn the most when you are challenged,” she noted. “I had to make difficult decisions, especially when market conditions were not favourable. But those are the moments that test and push you to innovate.” Her daily to-do list goes beyond typical corporate tasks; it involves collaboration with agronomists, rural communities and governmental agencies.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“We cannot afford to think in silos or in terms of quick fixes,” she said, tapping her pen on a handwritten list of ongoing projects. “The solutions we come up with today need to be viable 10 years from now.” This long-term vision sets her apart in an industry where many leaders focus on short-term gains. Part of this vision involves recognising that the private sector cannot operate in isolation. Sadozai believes in the idea that industries like agriculture have a responsibility: “We have to think about the communities we affect, the jobs we create, and the long-term impact of our projects.” If one thrives at the expense of the other, the entire system suffers in the long run.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Sadozai insists that gender is only a small part of the narrative. She acknowledges that the presence of a woman in such a high-ranking position can inspire others. But she is equally firm that headline-friendly notions of tokenism should not overshadow the agricultural sector’s most pressing concerns – sustainability, food security and financial inclusion.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“It’s a reality, but the story is about how we are transforming the agricultural landscape and making decisions today that will affect generations,” she said.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;At the same time, she understands the magnetic pull her story has for young women who might never have pictured themselves in a corporate role, let alone in agriculture. She sees value in providing a role model, but she bristles at the idea that being a woman in leadership should overshadow systemic issues that require urgent attention.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“My gender is not the story,” she reiterates. “However, if my being here encourages another young woman to think about a career in agriculture, that is a positive outcome. But it is not the main point. The point is that we need more capable people in this field, period – men and women.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Her management style exemplifies that same emphasis on competence. Hierarchies, she contends, can often stifle innovation by discouraging open dialogue from entry-level employees. Instead, she prefers to cultivate a work environment where bright ideas from any corner of the office can rise to the top.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Diversity is not just about ticking boxes; it is about bringing different perspectives to the table,” she said, citing the numerous ways in which inclusive brainstorming has sparked breakthroughs in marketing campaigns and product rollouts.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;One of Sadozai’s most public-facing ventures was the “Rabia Sultan” campaign, which featured a female farmer as its central figure. The decision was met with scepticism even within her own team. Critics argued that male farmers, who still make up the bulk of decision-makers in rural settings, might not relate to a female protagonist in an advertisement.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  w-full  w-full  media--stretch  media--embed  '&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  media__item--youtube  '&gt;&lt;iframe src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/-tJ22-R8dxU?enablejsapi=1&amp;controls=1&amp;modestbranding=1&amp;rel=0' loading='lazy' allowfullscreen='' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' width='100%' height='100%'&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Everyone told me it wouldn’t work,” she recalled with a knowing smile. “But the campaign shattered stereotypes and resonated deeply with the rural and urban audience alike.”
In 2017, Sadozai took her message beyond the boardroom by launching a web series that spotlighted female farmers from Pakistan’s diverse provinces – Punjab, Sindh, Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Far from glossy TV dramas, these short documentaries were often filmed in fields under the scorching sun, capturing the grit and gumption of women who are the backbone of Pakistan’s rural economy.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Why aren’t we celebrating them?” she asked, her tone tinged with frustration. “These women represent the spirit of Pakistan  yet their stories remain untold because they lack the glitz and glamour that mainstream media craves.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Among these unsung heroines was a Sindhi woman named Nazo, whose story has become something of a legend. At 18, Nazo’s family land came under threat from armed cousins after the murder of her brother and the imprisonment of her father. For 18 hours, she defended the land herself, wielding guns against attackers intent on seizing the property.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  w-full  w-full  media--stretch  media--embed  '&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  media__item--youtube  '&gt;&lt;iframe src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/byJMWfP6sJI?enablejsapi=1&amp;controls=1&amp;modestbranding=1&amp;rel=0' loading='lazy' allowfullscreen='' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' width='100%' height='100%'&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“She’s not a &lt;em&gt;bechari&lt;/em&gt;,” Sadozai said, using an Urdu term often translated as ‘helpless woman.’ “She’s a fighter. That’s the narrative we need to amplify.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Sadozai’s dedication to spotlighting such figures didn’t end with the web series. She took Nazo and other female farmers to the Dubai Expo, providing a global stage for their powerful stories. Language barriers notwithstanding, their testimonies riveted international audiences.  “They couldn’t speak English, but we translated for them and their strength left everyone in awe. This is Pakistan’s real story – they are the women we should be talking about.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Despite the rigours of her professional life, Sadozai is equally attuned to the roles she plays outside of work: mother of two (aspiring painter and aspiring lawyer, if Sadozai gets her way), daughter, wife, sister and friend. She grew up in a tightly knit family that valued both career ambition and personal nourishment. Her mother, a teacher, emphasised that professional success rings hollow if one neglects loved ones.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“There is this expectation that you need to be one thing or the other – that you can’t be both professional and nurturing,” Sadozai said. “That is a false choice.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;That perspective has helped her find balance in a society where professional women are often expected to adopt either a hyper-masculine leadership style or a soft, maternal approach. Sadozai sees no reason why she cannot embody a blend of both.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I can be one person in the morning and someone entirely different by the evening,” she joked. “It’s about making space for all facets of who you are.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;On a humid afternoon in Karachi, just before a scheduled flight to Pakistan’s southern region for a meeting with local farmers, Sadozai paused to reflect on the legacy she hopes to leave. Unlike many corporate leaders, she does not aim for monuments or plaques heralding her contributions. Instead, her ambitions lie in the quotidian changes – the shift in attitudes when a rural woman realises she can be both mother and entrepreneur, the moment a junior team member sees their idea take flight in a major marketing campaign or the sustainable practices that become the new normal for an industry desperately in need of modernisation.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“The solutions we build today must outlast our own time in these positions,” she said. “True leadership is about sowing seeds that someone else will water.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Suppose that is the benchmark for genuine progress. In that case, the seeds planted by Rabel Sadozai may well bloom into the paradigm shift Pakistan’s agriculture sector has long been waiting for. And in that quiet, enduring transformation, one sees the real legacy of a woman who has never wanted to be confined by labels like “trailblazer,” yet has undeniably blazed a trail for countless others.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Correction:&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;The print version of this article in the November-December 2024 issue stated the gross profit as Rs 235, instead of Rs 235 &lt;strong&gt;billion&lt;/strong&gt;. The error is regretted.&lt;/em&gt;
– Ed&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>As the first female Director of Marketing in Pakistan’s agricultural sector – traditionally governed by patriarchal norms and glacially slow administrative machinations – Rabel Sadozai has grown accustomed to the spotlight.</p>
<p>Publications laud her “first woman” accomplishments, while industry events scramble to book her for keynote sessions. But for this marketing executive, the titles and accolades, although appreciated, have never been the focal point.</p>
<p>Rather, her ambitions revolve around sparking systemic change – innovations and infrastructures that will outlast any single leader, including herself. “Leadership is not about titles. It is about creating space for others, about moving the conversation forward.”</p>
<p>In the agricultural sector which defines the livelihoods of more than half of Pakistan’s population, leadership positions are often relegated to a handful of elite figures who perpetuate the status quo. Against this backdrop, Sadozai’s swift rise over two decades, culminating in her directorship at the Fatima Group – a major fertiliser company – signalled an atypical break in those power structures. While many are quick to shine a spotlight on her gender, she prefers to highlight the work that truly matters to her: stewarding Pakistan’s agricultural industry toward a more equitable, innovative future.</p>
<p>That future, she believes, is shaped by the experiences and voices of people closest to the issues. “You have to listen to the people closest to the issues – they are the ones who know most clearly what needs to be done.” Respect and recognise the limitations of your lived experiences by valuing the lived experiences of those you have professed to help, is Sadozai’s ethos.</p>
<p>This philosophy is, in many ways, rooted in her upbringing. Born and raised in Karachi, Sadozai found herself surrounded by, in her words, “legendary” women from a young age. She attended St. Joseph’s Convent School, where, she recalls, the nuns didn’t just teach us subjects. They taught us how to think, how to push boundaries.“</p>
<p>In her broader family circle, formidable women were also front and centre. Her <em>khala</em> (maternal aunt), the celebrated playwright Haseena Moin, penned some of Pakistan’s most iconic television serials.</p>
<p>“Her heroines were bold, unafraid to speak their minds,” Sadozai said. “That left a mark on me.”</p>
<p>Sadozai did her MBA from the Institute of Business Administration (IBA, Karachi). While the institution is well-known for producing some of Pakistan’s top corporate leaders, for Sadozai, the degree was a stepping stone toward honing a deeper understanding of what she calls “ecosystemic marketing”: a holistic view of how a product, a target market and societal needs intersect. “For me, marketing is about connecting the dots,” she explained. “You need to understand the entire ecosystem – what your product is, who your audience is, and how you can bridge that gap in a way that creates real value.”</p>
<p>Her early career path zigzagged through various planning and management positions, and by 2013, she joined the Fatima Group as a planning manager. Those who worked alongside her describe a colleague with a penchant for detail and a willingness to roll up her sleeves. Junior employees found her door always open – a corporate rarity. Within a few years, she rocketed up the corporate ladder, taking on increasing responsibilities until she was named Director of Marketing and Sales.</p>
<p>While the headlines applauded ‘the first female director of marketing in the agriculture industry of Pakistan’, Sadozai was hard at work. In 2023, the company’s sales volume in fertilisers surged to 2.8 million metric tons, grossing Rs 235 billion. Although these numbers draw applause from shareholders and local media, for Sadozai, market performance alone isn’t sufficient to gauge success.</p>
<p>“You learn the most when you are challenged,” she noted. “I had to make difficult decisions, especially when market conditions were not favourable. But those are the moments that test and push you to innovate.” Her daily to-do list goes beyond typical corporate tasks; it involves collaboration with agronomists, rural communities and governmental agencies.</p>
<p>“We cannot afford to think in silos or in terms of quick fixes,” she said, tapping her pen on a handwritten list of ongoing projects. “The solutions we come up with today need to be viable 10 years from now.” This long-term vision sets her apart in an industry where many leaders focus on short-term gains. Part of this vision involves recognising that the private sector cannot operate in isolation. Sadozai believes in the idea that industries like agriculture have a responsibility: “We have to think about the communities we affect, the jobs we create, and the long-term impact of our projects.” If one thrives at the expense of the other, the entire system suffers in the long run.</p>
<p>Sadozai insists that gender is only a small part of the narrative. She acknowledges that the presence of a woman in such a high-ranking position can inspire others. But she is equally firm that headline-friendly notions of tokenism should not overshadow the agricultural sector’s most pressing concerns – sustainability, food security and financial inclusion.</p>
<p>“It’s a reality, but the story is about how we are transforming the agricultural landscape and making decisions today that will affect generations,” she said.</p>
<p>At the same time, she understands the magnetic pull her story has for young women who might never have pictured themselves in a corporate role, let alone in agriculture. She sees value in providing a role model, but she bristles at the idea that being a woman in leadership should overshadow systemic issues that require urgent attention.</p>
<p>“My gender is not the story,” she reiterates. “However, if my being here encourages another young woman to think about a career in agriculture, that is a positive outcome. But it is not the main point. The point is that we need more capable people in this field, period – men and women.”</p>
<p>Her management style exemplifies that same emphasis on competence. Hierarchies, she contends, can often stifle innovation by discouraging open dialogue from entry-level employees. Instead, she prefers to cultivate a work environment where bright ideas from any corner of the office can rise to the top.</p>
<p>“Diversity is not just about ticking boxes; it is about bringing different perspectives to the table,” she said, citing the numerous ways in which inclusive brainstorming has sparked breakthroughs in marketing campaigns and product rollouts.</p>
<p>One of Sadozai’s most public-facing ventures was the “Rabia Sultan” campaign, which featured a female farmer as its central figure. The decision was met with scepticism even within her own team. Critics argued that male farmers, who still make up the bulk of decision-makers in rural settings, might not relate to a female protagonist in an advertisement.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  w-full  w-full  media--stretch  media--embed  '>
        <div class='media__item  media__item--youtube  '><iframe src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/-tJ22-R8dxU?enablejsapi=1&controls=1&modestbranding=1&rel=0' loading='lazy' allowfullscreen='' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' width='100%' height='100%'></iframe></div>
        
    </figure></p>
<p>“Everyone told me it wouldn’t work,” she recalled with a knowing smile. “But the campaign shattered stereotypes and resonated deeply with the rural and urban audience alike.”
In 2017, Sadozai took her message beyond the boardroom by launching a web series that spotlighted female farmers from Pakistan’s diverse provinces – Punjab, Sindh, Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Far from glossy TV dramas, these short documentaries were often filmed in fields under the scorching sun, capturing the grit and gumption of women who are the backbone of Pakistan’s rural economy.</p>
<p>“Why aren’t we celebrating them?” she asked, her tone tinged with frustration. “These women represent the spirit of Pakistan  yet their stories remain untold because they lack the glitz and glamour that mainstream media craves.”</p>
<p>Among these unsung heroines was a Sindhi woman named Nazo, whose story has become something of a legend. At 18, Nazo’s family land came under threat from armed cousins after the murder of her brother and the imprisonment of her father. For 18 hours, she defended the land herself, wielding guns against attackers intent on seizing the property.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  w-full  w-full  media--stretch  media--embed  '>
        <div class='media__item  media__item--youtube  '><iframe src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/byJMWfP6sJI?enablejsapi=1&controls=1&modestbranding=1&rel=0' loading='lazy' allowfullscreen='' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' width='100%' height='100%'></iframe></div>
        
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<p>“She’s not a <em>bechari</em>,” Sadozai said, using an Urdu term often translated as ‘helpless woman.’ “She’s a fighter. That’s the narrative we need to amplify.”</p>
<p>Sadozai’s dedication to spotlighting such figures didn’t end with the web series. She took Nazo and other female farmers to the Dubai Expo, providing a global stage for their powerful stories. Language barriers notwithstanding, their testimonies riveted international audiences.  “They couldn’t speak English, but we translated for them and their strength left everyone in awe. This is Pakistan’s real story – they are the women we should be talking about.”</p>
<p>Despite the rigours of her professional life, Sadozai is equally attuned to the roles she plays outside of work: mother of two (aspiring painter and aspiring lawyer, if Sadozai gets her way), daughter, wife, sister and friend. She grew up in a tightly knit family that valued both career ambition and personal nourishment. Her mother, a teacher, emphasised that professional success rings hollow if one neglects loved ones.</p>
<p>“There is this expectation that you need to be one thing or the other – that you can’t be both professional and nurturing,” Sadozai said. “That is a false choice.”</p>
<p>That perspective has helped her find balance in a society where professional women are often expected to adopt either a hyper-masculine leadership style or a soft, maternal approach. Sadozai sees no reason why she cannot embody a blend of both.</p>
<p>“I can be one person in the morning and someone entirely different by the evening,” she joked. “It’s about making space for all facets of who you are.”</p>
<p>On a humid afternoon in Karachi, just before a scheduled flight to Pakistan’s southern region for a meeting with local farmers, Sadozai paused to reflect on the legacy she hopes to leave. Unlike many corporate leaders, she does not aim for monuments or plaques heralding her contributions. Instead, her ambitions lie in the quotidian changes – the shift in attitudes when a rural woman realises she can be both mother and entrepreneur, the moment a junior team member sees their idea take flight in a major marketing campaign or the sustainable practices that become the new normal for an industry desperately in need of modernisation.</p>
<p>“The solutions we build today must outlast our own time in these positions,” she said. “True leadership is about sowing seeds that someone else will water.”</p>
<p>Suppose that is the benchmark for genuine progress. In that case, the seeds planted by Rabel Sadozai may well bloom into the paradigm shift Pakistan’s agriculture sector has long been waiting for. And in that quiet, enduring transformation, one sees the real legacy of a woman who has never wanted to be confined by labels like “trailblazer,” yet has undeniably blazed a trail for countless others.</p>
<hr />
<p><em>Correction:</em> <em>The print version of this article in the November-December 2024 issue stated the gross profit as Rs 235, instead of Rs 235 <strong>billion</strong>. The error is regretted.</em>
– Ed</p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145327</guid>
      <pubDate>Wed, 07 May 2025 12:19:35 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com (Alifya Sohail)</author>
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      <title>Pakistan’s Storytelling Powerhouse</title>
      <link>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145345/pakistans-storytelling-powerhouse</link>
      <description>&lt;p&gt;As the day breaks and the world begins to awaken, Farhat Ishtiaq is already at her desk, surrounded by her notes and the quiet stillness of the rising morning. In these hours, uninterrupted by the bustle of the day, she draws upon her creative flow to weave the stories that will captivate millions across Pakistan. “These are my best hours,” she says. “It’s when I feel closest to my characters; when I can really let their stories unfold. Characters need backstories and depth. If they are flawed, there is a reason why, and I need to understand why.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ishtiaq’s journey as a writer is rooted in a childhood rich with experiences and exposure to literature. She spent her early years in Tokyo, where her father worked for PIA. Enveloped by the stillness of snowy nights, she would gaze at the stars and spin tales. “It was always there,” she says of her gift for storytelling, which she cultivated upon returning to Pakistan, growing up in a house full of books and where her family encouraged her love for reading.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;When not writing, she finds inspiration in a variety of shows and films, absorbing storytelling from different genres and cultures. “I watch a lot of content from around the world; Korean, Turkish, Egyptian… anything that resonates with human emotions – dramas that delve into relationships, struggles and victories.” This is what fuels her creativity and allows her to create stories that capture public imagination.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Although she initially pursued a degree in civil engineering, Ishtiaq’s path changed when she wrote a short story during a break from her studies. The piece was published, marking the beginning of her career as a writer, although she continued to work as a civil engineer while simultaneously writing.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Seeing her work in print gave her the confidence to write regularly for digests, (known for their wide reach and loyal readership), rapidly gaining immense popularity among digest fiction readers. So popular that her serialised episodes were later compiled and published as novels, many of which became bestsellers. It was, however, the success of &lt;em&gt;Humsafar&lt;/em&gt; that gave her the confidence to leave her job and focus solely on writing. “I have a degree in civil engineering and I had a steady job, but I am a storyteller at heart.” Now, with a legacy of hit dramas such as &lt;em&gt;Humsafar&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Udaari&lt;/em&gt; and her latest super hit, &lt;em&gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&lt;/em&gt;, she has become one of Pakistan’s most cherished screenwriters.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/0915054366f2c2c.jpg'  alt='Mahira Khan and Fawad Khan in &amp;lt;em&amp;gt;Humsafar&amp;lt;/em&amp;gt;' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        &lt;figcaption class='media__caption  '&gt;Mahira Khan and Fawad Khan in &lt;em&gt;Humsafar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/figcaption&gt;
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ishtiaq’s dramas capture the struggles and dreams of Pakistan’s middle class, a demographic that faces challenges that are at once universal and uniquely Pakistani. Her work is celebrated for its honesty, emotional depth and relatability. Her latest masterpiece, &lt;em&gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&lt;/em&gt;, starring Fahad Mustafa and Hania Aamir, has made history as Pakistan’s most-watched drama serial. Directed by Badar Mehmood, the show tells the classic “opposites attract” love story between Mustafa and Sharjeena. The drama has entertained over 158 million viewers and averaged a record-breaking 43.7 million views per episode. It achieved over 1.4 billion views on YouTube and a remarkable IMDB rating of 9.2. Not only has the series trended across Pakistan, but it has also resonated deeply with international viewers, solidifying Ishtiaq’s reputation as a powerhouse in Pakistani storytelling.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;    &lt;figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '&gt;
        &lt;div class='media__item  '&gt;&lt;picture&gt;&lt;img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/09150257a1eab5b.jpg'  alt='Fahad Mustafa and Hania Amir in &amp;lt;em&amp;gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&amp;lt;/em&amp;gt;' /&gt;&lt;/picture&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
        &lt;figcaption class='media__caption  '&gt;Fahad Mustafa and Hania Amir in &lt;em&gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/figcaption&gt;
    &lt;/figure&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Talking about her creative process, Ishtiaq is quick to credit her family for their support. The process is collaborative, enriched by her family’s involvement. Her sister Huma has been a crucial partner from the start, bringing new insights and helping shape pivotal scenes. “Huma is more than a sister; she is my creative ally,” she says, recalling a scene in &lt;em&gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&lt;/em&gt; where a bride’s request for food on her wedding night added a humorous touch with the groom bringing her an entire &lt;em&gt;daigh&lt;/em&gt; of &lt;em&gt;biryani&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Her cousin Sikandar, in whose office we are conducting the interview, has also played a critical role in her work, especially with stories that involve legal and investigative elements, providing insights into the procedures of government agencies and even helping shape scenes where the characters are interrogated or arrested. “Sikandar helped bring those scenes to life. He explained the body language, the dialogue – it added a layer of realism that I could not have achieved alone,” she says.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Her nephew, Hasan, who recently graduated in computer science, helped her develop the character of a professional gamer in &lt;em&gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&lt;/em&gt;, adding authenticity to scenes. “Hasan walked me through everything – from gaming strategies to how a young gamer would react in tense situations.” For Ishtiaq, these collaborations with family not only enrich her stories but make her process deeply personal.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Ishtiaq is now stepping into the global arena. Her upcoming Netflix series, &lt;em&gt;Jo Bachay Hain Sang Samait Lo&lt;/em&gt;, is based on her novel of the same name and will become Pakistan’s first Netflix original. “It’s a challenge, balancing international expectations while staying true to my roots,” she says. The series will feature a stellar Pakistani cast, including Mahira Khan and Fawad Khan, and explores different timelines, blending traditional Pakistani storytelling with a faster Netflix-style format. “They approached us because they wanted an authentic Pakistani story. The beauty of our dramas is their simplicity and depth. This is something I will not compromise on.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;h4&gt;&lt;a id="despite-kabhi-mein-kabhi-tum-being-the-biggest-hit-on-pakistani-television-and-her-netflix-series-on-the-horizon-farhat-ishtiaq-shows-no-signs-of-slowing-down-she-is-also-working-on-her-first-romantic-comedy-meem-se-mohabbat-a-genre-shift-that-she-describ" href="#despite-kabhi-mein-kabhi-tum-being-the-biggest-hit-on-pakistani-television-and-her-netflix-series-on-the-horizon-farhat-ishtiaq-shows-no-signs-of-slowing-down-she-is-also-working-on-her-first-romantic-comedy-meem-se-mohabbat-a-genre-shift-that-she-describ" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div style= "color: #6f894b; text-align: left;" markdown="1"&gt;Despite &lt;em&gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&lt;/em&gt; being the biggest hit on Pakistani television and her Netflix series on the horizon, Farhat Ishtiaq shows no signs of slowing down. She is also working on her first romantic comedy, &lt;em&gt;Meem Se Mohabbat&lt;/em&gt;, a genre shift that she describes as “refreshing but challenging. Comedy is hard; it is easy to make someone cry, but making them laugh is an art.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;hr /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;For Ishtiaq, storytelling is more than entertainment – it’s a responsibility. Her drama &lt;em&gt;Udaari&lt;/em&gt;, which tackled child abuse, opened doors to conversations long considered taboo. “Writing that script changed me and some nights I couldn’t sleep,” she recalls, describing the emotional toll of speaking to survivors and their families. “It was painful but necessary.” The show received widespread praise, strengthening her belief that stories can be a mirror and a guide for society.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Despite &lt;em&gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&lt;/em&gt; being the biggest hit on Pakistani television and her Netflix series on the horizon, Ishtiaq shows no signs of slowing down. She is also working on her first romantic comedy, &lt;em&gt;Meem Se Mohabbat&lt;/em&gt;, a genre shift that she describes as “refreshing but challenging. Comedy is hard; it is easy to make someone cry, but making them laugh is an art.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Reflecting on her journey, she is grateful for her family’s support and the collaborative spirit that defines her career. Ishtiaq’s stories, grounded in empathy and rich with cultural insight, are a testament to the power of family, connection and authenticity. “I wouldn’t be here without them.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;In an industry focused on spectacle, her work reminds us of the beauty in simplicity. Her dramas do more than entertain – they connect, inspire and foster a sense of belonging. As she brings Pakistani storytelling to new audiences, one thing is certain. Farhat Ishtiaq’s stories will endure, bridging worlds by speaking to the soul of Pakistan and beyond.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Shahrezad Samiuddin works in communications and is an agony aunt. &lt;a href="mailto:shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com"&gt;shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
</description>
      <content:encoded xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><![CDATA[<p>As the day breaks and the world begins to awaken, Farhat Ishtiaq is already at her desk, surrounded by her notes and the quiet stillness of the rising morning. In these hours, uninterrupted by the bustle of the day, she draws upon her creative flow to weave the stories that will captivate millions across Pakistan. “These are my best hours,” she says. “It’s when I feel closest to my characters; when I can really let their stories unfold. Characters need backstories and depth. If they are flawed, there is a reason why, and I need to understand why.”</p>
<p>Ishtiaq’s journey as a writer is rooted in a childhood rich with experiences and exposure to literature. She spent her early years in Tokyo, where her father worked for PIA. Enveloped by the stillness of snowy nights, she would gaze at the stars and spin tales. “It was always there,” she says of her gift for storytelling, which she cultivated upon returning to Pakistan, growing up in a house full of books and where her family encouraged her love for reading.</p>
<p>When not writing, she finds inspiration in a variety of shows and films, absorbing storytelling from different genres and cultures. “I watch a lot of content from around the world; Korean, Turkish, Egyptian… anything that resonates with human emotions – dramas that delve into relationships, struggles and victories.” This is what fuels her creativity and allows her to create stories that capture public imagination.</p>
<p>Although she initially pursued a degree in civil engineering, Ishtiaq’s path changed when she wrote a short story during a break from her studies. The piece was published, marking the beginning of her career as a writer, although she continued to work as a civil engineer while simultaneously writing.</p>
<p>Seeing her work in print gave her the confidence to write regularly for digests, (known for their wide reach and loyal readership), rapidly gaining immense popularity among digest fiction readers. So popular that her serialised episodes were later compiled and published as novels, many of which became bestsellers. It was, however, the success of <em>Humsafar</em> that gave her the confidence to leave her job and focus solely on writing. “I have a degree in civil engineering and I had a steady job, but I am a storyteller at heart.” Now, with a legacy of hit dramas such as <em>Humsafar</em>, <em>Udaari</em> and her latest super hit, <em>Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum</em>, she has become one of Pakistan’s most cherished screenwriters.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch    media--uneven  media--stretch'>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/0915054366f2c2c.jpg'  alt='Mahira Khan and Fawad Khan in &lt;em&gt;Humsafar&lt;/em&gt;' /></picture></div>
        <figcaption class='media__caption  '>Mahira Khan and Fawad Khan in <em>Humsafar</em></figcaption>
    </figure></p>
<p>Ishtiaq’s dramas capture the struggles and dreams of Pakistan’s middle class, a demographic that faces challenges that are at once universal and uniquely Pakistani. Her work is celebrated for its honesty, emotional depth and relatability. Her latest masterpiece, <em>Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum</em>, starring Fahad Mustafa and Hania Aamir, has made history as Pakistan’s most-watched drama serial. Directed by Badar Mehmood, the show tells the classic “opposites attract” love story between Mustafa and Sharjeena. The drama has entertained over 158 million viewers and averaged a record-breaking 43.7 million views per episode. It achieved over 1.4 billion views on YouTube and a remarkable IMDB rating of 9.2. Not only has the series trended across Pakistan, but it has also resonated deeply with international viewers, solidifying Ishtiaq’s reputation as a powerhouse in Pakistani storytelling.</p>
<p>    <figure class='media  sm:w-full  w-full  media--stretch  '>
        <div class='media__item  '><picture><img src='https://i.dawn.com/large/2025/01/09150257a1eab5b.jpg'  alt='Fahad Mustafa and Hania Amir in &lt;em&gt;Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum&lt;/em&gt;' /></picture></div>
        <figcaption class='media__caption  '>Fahad Mustafa and Hania Amir in <em>Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum</em></figcaption>
    </figure></p>
<p>Talking about her creative process, Ishtiaq is quick to credit her family for their support. The process is collaborative, enriched by her family’s involvement. Her sister Huma has been a crucial partner from the start, bringing new insights and helping shape pivotal scenes. “Huma is more than a sister; she is my creative ally,” she says, recalling a scene in <em>Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum</em> where a bride’s request for food on her wedding night added a humorous touch with the groom bringing her an entire <em>daigh</em> of <em>biryani</em>.</p>
<p>Her cousin Sikandar, in whose office we are conducting the interview, has also played a critical role in her work, especially with stories that involve legal and investigative elements, providing insights into the procedures of government agencies and even helping shape scenes where the characters are interrogated or arrested. “Sikandar helped bring those scenes to life. He explained the body language, the dialogue – it added a layer of realism that I could not have achieved alone,” she says.</p>
<p>Her nephew, Hasan, who recently graduated in computer science, helped her develop the character of a professional gamer in <em>Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum</em>, adding authenticity to scenes. “Hasan walked me through everything – from gaming strategies to how a young gamer would react in tense situations.” For Ishtiaq, these collaborations with family not only enrich her stories but make her process deeply personal.</p>
<p>Ishtiaq is now stepping into the global arena. Her upcoming Netflix series, <em>Jo Bachay Hain Sang Samait Lo</em>, is based on her novel of the same name and will become Pakistan’s first Netflix original. “It’s a challenge, balancing international expectations while staying true to my roots,” she says. The series will feature a stellar Pakistani cast, including Mahira Khan and Fawad Khan, and explores different timelines, blending traditional Pakistani storytelling with a faster Netflix-style format. “They approached us because they wanted an authentic Pakistani story. The beauty of our dramas is their simplicity and depth. This is something I will not compromise on.”</p>
<hr />
<h4><a id="despite-kabhi-mein-kabhi-tum-being-the-biggest-hit-on-pakistani-television-and-her-netflix-series-on-the-horizon-farhat-ishtiaq-shows-no-signs-of-slowing-down-she-is-also-working-on-her-first-romantic-comedy-meem-se-mohabbat-a-genre-shift-that-she-describ" href="#despite-kabhi-mein-kabhi-tum-being-the-biggest-hit-on-pakistani-television-and-her-netflix-series-on-the-horizon-farhat-ishtiaq-shows-no-signs-of-slowing-down-she-is-also-working-on-her-first-romantic-comedy-meem-se-mohabbat-a-genre-shift-that-she-describ" class="heading-permalink" aria-hidden="true" title="Permalink"></a><strong><div style= "color: #6f894b; text-align: left;" markdown="1">Despite <em>Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum</em> being the biggest hit on Pakistani television and her Netflix series on the horizon, Farhat Ishtiaq shows no signs of slowing down. She is also working on her first romantic comedy, <em>Meem Se Mohabbat</em>, a genre shift that she describes as “refreshing but challenging. Comedy is hard; it is easy to make someone cry, but making them laugh is an art.”</strong></h4>
<hr />
<p>For Ishtiaq, storytelling is more than entertainment – it’s a responsibility. Her drama <em>Udaari</em>, which tackled child abuse, opened doors to conversations long considered taboo. “Writing that script changed me and some nights I couldn’t sleep,” she recalls, describing the emotional toll of speaking to survivors and their families. “It was painful but necessary.” The show received widespread praise, strengthening her belief that stories can be a mirror and a guide for society.</p>
<p>Despite <em>Kabhi Mein Kabhi Tum</em> being the biggest hit on Pakistani television and her Netflix series on the horizon, Ishtiaq shows no signs of slowing down. She is also working on her first romantic comedy, <em>Meem Se Mohabbat</em>, a genre shift that she describes as “refreshing but challenging. Comedy is hard; it is easy to make someone cry, but making them laugh is an art.”</p>
<p>Reflecting on her journey, she is grateful for her family’s support and the collaborative spirit that defines her career. Ishtiaq’s stories, grounded in empathy and rich with cultural insight, are a testament to the power of family, connection and authenticity. “I wouldn’t be here without them.”</p>
<p>In an industry focused on spectacle, her work reminds us of the beauty in simplicity. Her dramas do more than entertain – they connect, inspire and foster a sense of belonging. As she brings Pakistani storytelling to new audiences, one thing is certain. Farhat Ishtiaq’s stories will endure, bridging worlds by speaking to the soul of Pakistan and beyond.</p>
<p><em>Shahrezad Samiuddin works in communications and is an agony aunt. <a href="mailto:shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com">shahrezadsamiuddin@hotmail.com</a></em></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <category>People</category>
      <guid>https://aurora.dawn.com/news/1145345</guid>
      <pubDate>Sat, 11 Jan 2025 09:32:59 +0500</pubDate>
      <author>none@none.com ()</author>
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