1. Tell us about your background; what inspired you to start your creative journey?
It wasn’t a romantic beginning—no divine calling or lifelong dream. I was sixteen, the recession had just hit, and I needed something to put on my CV. I’d always loved drawing and reading comics, but I hadn’t actually made anything of my own. I didn’t go to a school with lots of extracurriculars, and I wasn’t on any sports teams, so I felt like I had nothing that made me stand out. I thought, if I don’t put something out into the world, I can’t complain about not being noticed. So I made a comic.
That one decision set everything in motion. I just wanted to show I could do a project from start to finish. Fifteen years later, here I am—with a career in comics, book deals, and an Ignatz Award. I kind of fell into it. But looking back, that urge to create something on my own terms was always there.
“I didn’t start comics because of some grand artistic vision—I just didn’t want to work in an office.”
2. Where do you get your comic ideas from? How has your identity influenced your comics?
A lot of my work is autobiographical, and even the fictional stories are deeply informed by my identity. I’m Bangladeshi, Muslim, queer, and part of the diaspora. That context seeps into everything, even when the characters aren’t explicitly South Asian.
Take BUUZA! for example: none of the main characters are South Asian, but it’s still a South Asian comic through and through. It explores themes like religious diversity, community, and displacement. That layered religious coexistence is something very familiar to anyone from South Asia or the diaspora. It’s also reflective of how I grew up in multicultural, spiritual spaces where difference was the norm.
More recently, I’ve started leaning even more consciously into my identity, particularly in visual storytelling. I’m working on a fantasy project now that pulls from South Asian aesthetics instead of defaulting to Western fairy tales. I’m also interested in how things like femininity, memory, and grief are shaped by culture. The project talks about family graves and the pain of living far away from family, and ultimately, missing time with them. These things don’t need to be explained—they just need to exist in the work.
“I made peace with the fact that some people won’t get it. The work isn’t for everyone—and that’s fine.”
3. Let’s talk about BUUZA!—your Ignatz Award-winning webcomic. What was it like writing and illustrating something episodic? How did you keep yourself motivated?
BUUZA! was a huge commitment—it ran for years, and the pacing was very episodic. It wasn’t just about drawing the comic; it was writing, illustrating, editing, and publishing all at once. Honestly, what kept me going was how much the story meant to me.
The comic is about connection—how people build relationships, communities, and healing spaces in the aftermath of trauma. And that’s something I kept coming back to, especially during tough periods. Readers also kept me going. Seeing how people engaged with the characters, how they saw themselves in them—that was hugely motivating.
I’m really proud of BUUZA! and what it means to people. Even though it’s currently on hiatus, I’m always thinking about ways to expand or return to it. It was never just a comic—it was a space for people like me to exist.
4. How do you balance being a writer, an illustrator, and a business? (Asking for a friend) (me)
It’s a juggling act, honestly. Being a writer and illustrator feels natural—they’re both storytelling tools. But being a business? That’s the part most creatives struggle with.
We don’t talk enough about the logistics: budgeting, forecasting, tax prep. Luckily, I enjoy that part. I love spreadsheets, and I like doing my taxes. I track all my projects, plan ahead for when payments will arrive, and stretch budgets across dry periods. I used to teach this stuff, so I’ve developed systems to make it sustainable.
Right now, I work on a mix of big publishing projects, online sales, commissions, teaching, and event appearances. I know when my big payouts are coming, and I plan smaller things—like online shop drops or zine fairs—around them. It’s still unstable, but it’s manageable. Having an agent now helps massively, too.
“I love making comics—but I also love knowing when I’ll get paid.”
5. You’ve been part of several panels about representation in comics, from Thought Bubble to First Graphic Novel. What stood out to you during these discussions? What are the biggest challenges to representation in the industry?
The biggest challenge is budgets. Publishers are hesitant to invest in books by creators of colour unless they’re sure it will sell. But then they don’t give those books the marketing push needed to find their audience. So, of course, the sales suffer—it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Representation also often comes with conditions. There’s this pressure to be palatable, to explain everything, to cater to white readers. I don’t want to do that. And I’m not interested in being the only brown person on a panel anymore. Most of the panels I’ve done still have a white moderator or audience in mind. The conversation needs to move beyond “why representation matters” into “how do we dismantle the structures preventing it?”
6. What has been your favourite thing about being an artist?
Drawing. Simply put—I love it. I love the act of sitting down and translating an idea into an image. It’s a challenge every time, and I get a real sense of satisfaction from improving, experimenting, and pushing myself. Drawing is how I make sense of the world. It helps me remember, process, and connect.
“Drawing is a challenge, a memory tool, and a joy. It’s how I exist in the world.”
7. What are your aspirations for the South Asian creative community? What changes do you hope to see in the next few years?
I just want to see more of us. More South Asian creators, more stories, more weird little projects that don’t feel like they need to explain themselves. And I want to see more young people getting involved, especially those who might not feel “allowed” to take up creative space.
The real issue is access. We need more arts funding, more educational support, and more visibility for alternative creative paths. Too many young South Asian people are pushed out before they’ve even had the chance to explore. My dream is to open a free comics library and café someday, somewhere kids can read manga, make art, and feel like they belong.
8. What advice would you give to emerging artists and writers trying to navigate the comics industry, especially from underrepresented backgrounds?
Believe in yourself. And if you can’t believe in yourself, be angry. Let that anger fuel you.
You’ll constantly be made to feel like you don’t belong. That you’re not good enough. But you are. Imposter syndrome needs to die - so many mediocre people thrive in this industry because they show up with confidence. We have to work twice as hard, so don’t let it take root. Get better at your craft, yes—but don’t shrink yourself. Be bold, be honest, and don’t wait for permission.
“If you’ve had to fight to be in the room, take up space when you get there.”
9. What projects are you currently working on, and where can we expect to see your work in the coming months?
BUUZA! is on hiatus, but all current volumes are available through my website and at events. There might be some exciting news about that series coming soon...
I also have a historical fiction graphic novel coming out with Penguin this summer—What Was Built to Be the Ship of Dreams: The Titanic, written by Emmett Nahil and illustrated by me. It follows two real Syrian children who survived the sinking, and it’s aimed at younger readers.
You can catch me at events like MCM London, Sequential Scotland, Zinezilla Bristol, and Thought Bubble later this year. I always post updates and event details on Instagram.
10. And finally—the most important question. What is your favourite South Asian sweet?
Rasmalai, 100%. But gajar ka halwa, kulfi, and semiya (sweet vermicelli) are also up there. If you give me rasmalai and kulfi together? That’s a power move.
