A Small Note About Where I Come From?

I suppose I should clarify something before it becomes a theory of its own.

I am a product of Karachi, New York, and London-in no particular order, and very much all at once. If that sounds confusing, it’s because it is. It has confused me too, on occasion.

I was born in Manama, Bahrain, but I was raised emotionally and intellectually across these three cities. Karachi gave me my spine. New York gave me my nerve. London gave me my manners- at least on good days.

Karachi is my darling. It’s the city that doesn’t ask permission to exist. It’s chaotic, affectionate, exhausting, generous, infuriating, and deeply loyal. Karachi teaches you early that life doesn’t come with instructions, but it does come with people-lots of them-and you’d better learn how to deal with all kinds. It gave me instinct, resilience, and a sense of humor sharp enough to survive anything. If you can laugh in Karachi, you can laugh anywhere.

New York, on the other hand, taught me speed and audacity. There is no place on earth like it. It is ten thousand miles from the rest of the United States and at least a million miles from the rest of the world. New York doesn’t wait for you to explain yourself. It doesn’t care who you are. It only cares whether you’re awake.

Growing up there-in fragments, in phases-was fun in a way that feels illegal elsewhere. You learn quickly that ambition is not arrogance, that reinvention is not dishonesty, and that anonymity can be a kind of freedom. New York lets you fail publicly and recover privately, which is a very useful life skill.

London was quieter, but no less influential. It had green apples, Vimto syrup, long walks, and a certain understated discipline that never announced itself. London doesn’t rush you. It observes you. It teaches you that intelligence doesn’t need to shout, (and that irony is often more powerful than volume). My brother and I were well knit there, discovering small pleasures and building a shared sense of the world that didn’t yet need explanation.

Somewhere between these three cities, I became… this.

People sometimes ask how I ended up doing so many different things. The honest answer is that I never learned how to be one thing at a time. Karachi made me adaptable. New York made me curious. London made me reflective. Together, they made compartmentalization impossible.

I should also admit something else.

When the International Association of High-IQ Polymaths shortlisted me for an honor connected to this work, I genuinely didn’t see it coming. I was more perplexed than they were. I don’t walk around feeling particularly “high-IQ.” My social media handles often read “always happy,” which is not branding-it’s confession. I am childlike to the core, and I’ve never believed that seriousness is a prerequisite for intelligence.

Once, during an assessment, I managed to confuse the Myers-Briggs test so thoroughly that the evaluators thought I had memorized it and was deliberately manipulating the results. The truth was far less impressive: I answered instinctively. Creativity, I’ve learned, does not coexist well with calculation. To remain creative, one has to stay utterly innocent-unguarded, unstrategic, and occasionally misunderstood.

Perhaps that’s why cities matter so much to me. Cities raise you. They teach you rhythm, tolerance, contradiction, and timing. Karachi taught me heart. New York taught me courage. London taught me restraint. Between them, they kept me from becoming brittle.

I’ve lived a joyful life. A full one. I’ve traveled extensively, met extraordinary people, and experienced moments-some intense, some absurd-that many never encounter. Through it all, I’ve tried not to lose curiosity, humor, or the ability to be delighted by unnecessary things.

If there is anything I hope comes through in my work, it is this:

that intelligence does not require solemnity,
that adulthood should occasionally be spoiled,
and that no matter how complex life becomes, it helps to remember where you were shaped.

In my case, that would be Karachi, New York, and London-arguing constantly in my head, and somehow getting along just fine.

A special thanks to Lahore for being there when no one else was.