Before becoming a journalist I was a baker. So I wrote about all of the bad bits of baking for a living for Vice. Read it. It’s good.
There were lots of great things about my old job too. My favourite parts were ‘pinching the peaks’ on lemon meringue pies, scooping golden syrup up with my hand to pour onto individual puddings and coating chocolate cakes in fudge icing. I still love to bake now but the shoddy oven at my new place is broken.
I love weddings. Especially Asian weddings. So I really enjoyed writing this piece on how to photograph South Asian weddings for IdeasTap magazine.
The photo above is by Bhavna Barratt – you can see more of her great work here.
I wrote for The Debrief on the positives and negatives of having immigrant parents. Have a read here.
As with a lot of opinion pieces I write, I never fully realise how much a topic makes me angry until I sit down and actually start writing it. I hate anti-immigrant bullshit with a passion and I hope it comes across in this piece.
I wrote about Pakistan, food and domestic servants for Munchies. Read it here.
Want to buy a property before house prices shoot through the roof?
Take a look at this feature I wrote for IdeasTap magazine on How to get a mortgage when you’re self-employed in the arts. It’s full of lots of useful information. I promise.
Below is my poor attempt at drawing a house, which clearly illustrates why I’m a writer and not an artist. I think she looks melancholy. I can’t make her look any happier. I think it’s the poor placement and size of the windows.
I wrote something funny about my other half for Lifetime TV. You can take a look here if you are so inclined.
I wrote a funny piece on Ramadhan for Vice magazine’s new food site called Munchies. You can check it out here.
Here’s a piece I wrote for The Guardian:
I know it’s unfashionable to stick up for school meals but as a British Asian growing up in a household where kebabs and curry were the norm and shepherd’s pie and rice pudding were alien entities, I have very fond memories of my school dinners.
Everything we ate at home was jazzed up Pakistani-style – even omelettes had dried chilli, coriander seeds and turmeric in them. It was eating at school that taught us about traditional English food; the good and the bad. It was exciting to have buttery mash and a pie for lunch instead of a fiery dopiaza, and fun to eat jelly and ice cream for dessert instead of sipping milky cardamom-infused tea. School meals were the definition of exotic. I didn’t want a chapati and lentils; I wanted lancashire hotpot. It may not have been sensitively prepared by artisan chefs, but it had gravy in it. Continue reading