About me

My life’s trajectory is rooted in my heritage and the understanding it has given me: I became curious about people’s journeys and the need to tend to trauma because I saw and experienced the impact of emotional wounding and dislocation on my extended family – I am the child of parents forced to change their lives due to unjust circumstances, which they refused to be held back by and yet which invariably altered the course of their own aspirations.

My ancestral lineage – born in Britain, descended from Pakistani roots that stretched to Uganda before being uprooted and rerouted to England – like everyone’s to varying degrees, contains suffering as well as success.

I could, and have, gotten stuck in stories of disaffection and despair at humanity, which has led me down some useful paths devoted to uncovering the truth of our history and understanding why it is so. It’s also led to some not so helpful ones, akin to picking at scabs, piling hurt upon hurt, and fuelling more rage and discord than reconciliation.

I’d also describe myself as a recovering intelletualiser, because for a long time, I thought that finding clever answers and figuring everything out would help me make sense of things.

All of that was a necessary part of the process.

Matters of truth and (mis)understanding

I began writing stories and poetry as a child, and dreamed of becoming an author from the age of five. It’s a calling that came from an early curiosity about the why, what, how, where and when of human nature. This is what drew me to work in journalism many moons ago, and continues to move me still.

It’s the sense of wanting to inquire and understand, more than the search for absolute answers or certainty. In fact, I think the latter can lead us into a trap of rigid thinking and limiting views, closing more doors than it opens. Although of course, it can be a survival as much as a socialised instinct to find firm footing and reasons why people are the way they are and things appear as we find them.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned through multiple practice modalities is that yes, it’s important to unpack and unpick stories, to tell the truth, to clarify misunderstanding – and then, for the sake of our individual and collective mental health, we have to let them go.

We don’t always get to resolve everything. Past hurts won’t always get healed or reconciled. We can suffer because of the stories we tell ourselves. We can see the world through murky lenses. And/or we can tell different stories, ones that expand our view and open our minds. The way we describe our experiences can shape the way we see - and help us realise that beyond the clouds and beneath the surface misreads, there is a deeper, wider and brighter side to life. With our imagination and insight, we can conjure different worlds, different views, more expansive understandings of the truth of our full potential.

My story

My life’s work (25+ years) has been devoted to supporting marginalised and misunderstood people – first as a journalist, then working in communications for a London-based charity advocating for the rights of asylum seekers and refugees, and subsequently as a freelancer, especially supporting mental health charities and NGOs as they advocate for people’s rights and provide rehabilitative support.

My work in communications and wellbeing, alongside my own healing work, has been driven by a firm belief that everyone can benefit when given the time and guidance to navigate life’s difficulties in a way that honours their needs.

The people and organisations I’ve worked with a voluntary capacity have also been driven by this intention – to contribute my energy, time and skills in a way that makes a positive difference and contributes to meaningful change. I’ve been a listener with The Samaritans, taught yoga and meditation to recovering addicts with the Bristol Drugs Project, mentored people through their mental health journey with Second Step, and was a teacher and a non-executive director with the Bristol Yoga Roots Project.

Life is more than the sum total of our wounding. One of the greatest services we can offer ourselves and each other is to set ourselves free from limiting narratives, to disentangle from what holds us back, so that we can be free of delusion and distortion – and ultimately, free to just be. That might sound idyllic bordering on utopic. Nonetheless, in significant increments, in every interaction, relationship and piece of work, that intention has the potential and the power to contribute towards a greater good. That, I believe, makes for a life well lived.

More on my work and my story