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THE ICON INTERVIEW: THE FUTURE’S ALWAYS BRIGHT FOR HIM – Newspaper

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2026 is going to be exciting,” Abdullah Seja tells me.

You said the same about 2025, I remind him.

“I am going to tell you the same in 2027,” he grins.

He isn’t just saying this because it sounds good. Abdullah Seja really means it. He is one of the youngest producers in the Pakistani TV drama landscape — and a very successful one — and he talks about every drama that he has produced, under the iDream Entertainment banner, with great passion.

He’ll discuss the nuances of crafting together a story, certain scenes that he has liked, actors who have stood out in different projects, and trying out new ways of storytelling. You can tell that he loves what he does. It is this passion that has very quickly spiralled him upwards into the top ranks of Pakistani TV drama production.

“I always wanted to make TV dramas,” he tells Icon. “I think that, since sixth grade, I had decided that I would become a producer. I love developing content and creating stories. And when I tell a story, I don’t want to wrap it up in two hours. I want to take 10 to 12 hours, build up the various aspects of it, in order to tell it right.”

Abdullah Seja is one of the youngest producers in the Pakistani TV drama landscape. But with a slew of hits behind him, he’s also one of the most successful. Does he instinctively know what will be a hit? Why does he hate experimenting with storylines? And how does he deal with problematic actors?

It’s interesting talking to Abdullah Seja. In entertainment, often the focus is on actors, but the producers are the architects working behind the scenes, connecting the dots, making things happen. Abdullah’s particular brand of ‘architecture’ flits from one structure to another, completely different one — or rather, from one genre of drama to another.

“When I started working at iDream, I was told that it was important to create a bouquet of stories,” he says. “Every story needs to be different from the previous one, while also connecting with the audience.”

Abdullah’s metaphorical bouquet has been enticing the audience very well. iDream churned out a slew of solid hits last year — with Naumaan Ijaz playing the philandering middle-aged man in Bismil, Danish Taimoor breaking records as the titular Sher, and an exceptional ensemble cast forming the backbone of the neighbourhood drama Sharpasand. There are many other iDream dramas that have been memorable over the years; among them, the top-rated soaps Baby Baji and Baby Baji Ki Bahuwain and dramas Fraud, Ghisi Piti Mohabbat and Kaisi Teri Khudgharzi.

I recall meeting Abdullah at an event last year where he had animatedly shown me the promotional teaser for his drama Sher, which was then yet to air on TV. Flames lit up a battleground where an angry mob fought with each other while the two leads, played by actors Danish Taimoor and Sarah Khan, pointed guns at each other. It had all looked very cinematic, like a snippet from a movie rather than from a desi drama.

Some weeks later, he had invited me to a studio where Sher’s title track was being filmed as a full-blown music video. Musician Faisal Kapadia lip-synced to the parts that he had sung, with Arif Lohar’s vocals ringing out in between — perhaps his part had already been shot. Pairing two popular musicians with such disparate vocals was a great idea and it worked very well, with the drama’s director Aehsun Talish plugging in the song every time the drama took a tense turn.

“A drama OST [original soundtrack] is very important and we invest a lot of time into developing it,” says Abdullah. “Also, I never develop just one track for a drama. There need to be at least two tracks, so that different songs can fit into different situations over a drama that will span 30 episodes or more.”

Later last year, I was let in on the secret that the upcoming drama, Sharpasand, was going to feature a title track sung by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan and his son Shahzaman Ali Khan — another coup in the realm of drama OSTs. Once Sharpasand aired, I was invited to visit the set: a street created especially to emulate the mohalla where the plot would unfold.

“I am going to show you my next drama, Mirza Ki Heer’s trailer soon,” Abdullah promises me now.

From one drama to the other, his enthusiasm never wanes. Can you tell when a script is going to be a hit, I ask him. “No, there is no given formula for success,” he says. “I sincerely think that our productions have worked because God has held our hand throughout. We rely a lot on research, seeing what clicks with the audience and following the channel’s suggestions on what tropes should be added into the story.

“I don’t experiment — I don’t even like the word. I don’t want to try producing something that will alienate a large chunk of my core audience. Instead, I try to tell stories from new angles. Stories, around the world, are more or less the same. The way they are told keeps evolving. We are always trying to innovate and learn from our mistakes and, somehow, it’s been working well for us.”

When I started working at iDream, I was told that it was important to create a bouquet of stories,” he says. “Every story needs to be different from the previous one, while also connecting with the audience.”

With an increasing global audience gravitating towards Pakistani dramas, has the content that he is producing changed? “The content development is the same, but the production quality has improved, not just in my case but across the board for every channel and production house. When a drama rakes in two to three million views in a few hours — like Sher did — it means that it has a loyal international audience. To keep this audience hooked, we try to make the quality better, work on better locations and styling and introduce new technologies.”

Speaking of Sher, does he think that the mass popularity of the lead hero, Danish Taimoor, had a role to play in the drama’s success? “Danish is one of our biggest superstars and I definitely knew that half our work was done when we signed him and Sarah Khan for the drama. They are both extremely popular with the masses,” says Abdullah. “But based on the story, also, I knew that the drama would create a buzz. The director Aehsun Talish was also excited. We just didn’t know that it would be that big a hit.”

However, Danish Taimoor also occasionally becomes the target of social media criticism because of his controversial comments in interviews, and his predilection for playing the toxic hero on TV. From a more general perspective, is an actors’ popularity with the masses entirely unaffected by social media controversy?

“I think it does translate somewhere or the other,” Abdullah muses. “Social media discussions cannot be written off entirely, because they also affect the eyeballs that we get internationally. If an actor says something wrong, you will see effects of it in people’s reactions, and also in conversations that are taking place. Ratings, though, are more likely to suffer if an actor has said something wrong in his or her personal capacity. On the other hand, if an actor is playing a toxic character and people are criticising him or her [because of it], then that just means that the actor is doing a great job at convincing them.”

Some time ago, iDream Entertainment also produced one of their biggest hits, following the toxic stalker trope: 2022’s Kaisi Teri Khudgharzi. If he were to produce the drama today, would he still opt to do so?

“Absolutely,” he says. “I own up to having produced that drama and the basic premise of the story, focusing on stalking, is still a reality around us. However, today, I might tell the story from a different angle. The audience’s perception has changed and so have our own thought processes. Every time period teaches you something and there was a certain kind of content that was working back then and other content which is working today. The story probably cannot be told the same way today.”

The drama’s female lead, actress Durefishan Saleem, had once said in an interview that she would not want to work in such a drama again. What is Abdullah’s take on this? “It is her own opinion and her own journey. And you never know, she might say this today and, two years later, she might be acting in something similar.”

He continues, “She has a certain point of view and I respect that. What can also not be denied is that the project gave her career a boost, which allowed her to go on and do the kind of work that she wanted to do. She has accepted this fact in multiple places that, while she may not work in such a drama again, it did help her in her career.”

Kaisi Teri Khudgharzi, incidentally, was another iDream hit starring the eternally popular Danish Taimoor. “He was already a big star when he came on board but, for Dure, the drama was definitely a career boost. She is a brilliant actress and I had a great time working with her. We have been trying to coordinate for more projects together but the dates haven’t worked out. She is one of the most educated individuals that we have in the industry.”

Another actress who can credit iDream for one of her best-loved hits is Ramsha Khan, in the critically acclaimed Ghisi Piti Mohabbat from 2020. “It’s one of my favourite projects and four actresses backed out from playing the lead character because it was a very difficult one, with four different looks, four family set-ups and no constant hero. Fasih Bari wrote the script and Ahmed Bhatti did a great job directing the drama but, acting-wise, the project was solely relying on Ramsha’s shoulders. No one could have played the role as well as she did.”

Lately, iDream projects are being directed by Aehsun Talish — is the director now an official part of the production house? “Yes, Aehsun bhai is now exclusively working with us. At iDream, we like to build teams, with everyone working together, making improvements and learning from mistakes. If something goes wrong, we never place the blame on the director, actor, or producer. We all messed up, as a team, and we will learn from it and not make the same mistake again.”

Referring to Aehsun Talish’s recent work in the drama Sharpasand, Abdullah says, “Credit for telling the story so well truly goes to him, as well as the writer. There were scenes that Aehsun bhai shot so well that I was taken aback. It is a story navigating an entire neighbourhood and we haven’t dragged it at all, with every story track reaching its eventual conclusion.”

I comment that Abdullah’s various dramas negate the prevalent notion that Pakistani dramas are dominated by saas-bahu storylines. “I think the people that say this don’t actually see Pakistani dramas,” he rightly points out. “Mothers-in-law, mothers, sons and daughters are part of the Pakistani family structure and they may be part of the overall story. However, most dramas have additional plots and subplots with the family simply providing the basic framework.”

We’ve talked about some of his favourite experiences as a producer but he must have had bad experiences too. Does he, like his contemporaries in the field, have to deal sometimes with actors who suddenly disappear from the set, delaying production?

“Yes, that happens,” he accepts. “We try to avoid such problems by figuring out which actor might be troublesome, usually based on our past experiences. However, an actor who might have been very easy to work with in one project, may give us trouble in the next. Ultimately, we are all human. We make mistakes and so do actors. An actor may be going through a phase. That doesn’t mean that what they are doing is right but, at our end, we just have to figure out what to do.

“If my set is up and nine out of 10 actors have turned up, I can’t halt production because one actor isn’t there. And while we don’t believe in banning anyone, we might avoid working with a difficult actor for some time, at least.”

And do you sometimes ‘cheat’, trying to make it appear that the actor is there when he or she is not? “Yes, sometimes we have to do that.”

Have you tried using AI (Artificial Intelligence) to make it look like an actor is there, I ask. “We have tried it, but the technology isn’t as believable yet. Maybe by next year, we will be doing so easily.”

Actors, similarly, have their issues with producers, particularly with regards to late payments. What is his take on the situation?

“They aren’t lying. We do get late sometimes,” he says. “The problem is that we do not have a proper structure. An actor may make mistakes and create problems for the production house and vice versa, a production house may end up paying two to three weeks late. We are trying to fix this problem and, hopefully, over the next two to three years, contracts will get fulfilled from the producers’ as well as the actors’ end.”

What’s next for him, in the ‘exciting’ year ahead? “There’s Mirza Ki Heer, starring Ali Raza and Hina Afridi. They are a fresh new pair, very talented and we’ve also taken on a new challenge while filming the drama which I hope will work out,” he says mysteriously.

“There’s also Hey Fam, which has a very current script, with the story delving into issues that are faced by younger people. There is also another, really different project that we will be starting off later in the year. We’re trying to do a lot of things: build bankable new stars and trying out new concepts.

“And we already have our storylines locked in for the next year too.”

Abdullah Seja is right. There’s indeed a lot of excitement up ahead.

The writer is a fashion and entertainment journalist with over two decades of experience. She can be reached at maliharehman1@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, March 1st, 2026



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EXHIBITION: SUBVERTING THE GAZE – Newspaper

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All the Women in Me X

Farazeh Syed’s exhibition ‘All the Women in Me’ at Karachi’s Canvas Gallery prosecutes the colonial archive: its camera, its titles, its voracious gaze, while nurturing — patiently and insistently — the lives of women crushed by that record.

The exhibition brings together paintings on canvas and wasli that rework found colonial photographs of South Asian women, set in conversation with intimate personal images drawn from the artist’s familial past. Syed uses photographs of her legendary grandmother, the singer Malika Pukhraj, who spent her later years in Lahore. Syed spent several formative years closely attached to her and says that the photographs “represent a South Asian woman from the same era who was fierce and formidable in her strength and vulnerable and fallible in her humanness. They, thus, serve as a contrast to the denial of individuality, autonomy and agency in the colonial images.”

Syed reads violence in these images — violence through detached reflection, through distortion and erasure, through a gaze that spoke for women while denying them voice. In her paintings, that violence is neither sensationalised nor aestheticised — it is held in tension with a repaired register.

The works on wasli are the most evident attempt to undo this damage. By reimagining it through a South Asian female gaze, Syed loosens the archival grip that once fixed these women in place. Faces gain expression rather than vacancy and bodies shed their performative submission. The women are no longer captives to a controlling eye but conversers within a visual language that recognises them as individuals.

Farazeh Syed’s recent exhibition takes visual documentation of South Asian women by British colonialists and upends their ways of looking

Syed’s long engagement with the female body — shaped by years of rigorous training under the artist Iqbal Hussain who passed away recently, and informed by her immersion in music — rolls here with quiet confidence. The bodies in ‘All the Women in Me’ are not arranged to please. They occupy space with weight and purpose. Even when seated or motionless, they seem internally active, absorbed in private thought or reminiscence. The women are not there to be seen, they are there to be.

Colour and rhythm do much of the work. Flora and fauna appear as carriers of memory. These elements recall the orchards and animals of her grandmother’s Lahore home, and they also function symbolically, suggesting growth, interdependence and the non-human witnesses to women’s lives that archives ignore. While this exhibition is unmistakably political, the paintings do not lecture. The exhibition trusts viewers to feel their way into its arguments, to recognise the unease of the colonial image and the relief of its undoing.

All the Women in Me V

Syed’s interdisciplinary practice, her scholarship, her teaching, her deep relationship to music, all quietly underwrite the exhibition. One feels the discipline of years spent drawing the human form, the patience of research and the lyricism borrowed from raga and rhythm. I imagine that the “me” of the title is not autobiographical but instead expands outwards, encompassing mothers and daughters, known women and unnamed ones, those photographed and those who escaped the lens.

In a wasli painting derived from a colonial ethnographic photograph of a seated woman, the artist pares the scene down to its essentials. The Victorian paraphernalia that once framed the subject, such as long curtains, furniture, architectural prompts, has been stripped away. What remains is the woman, rendered with a gravity that counterattacks submission. Her eyes no longer slip past the viewer in rehearsed vacancy and instead hold a quiet, inward resolve.

The canvases based on photographs of Syed’s grandmother operate as a different chronicle altogether. Her figure fills the frames with unrepentant presence. The brushwork is emphatic but not forceful. Here, distinctiveness emphasises itself through various specifics: the tilt of the head, the compactness of the torso, the unapologetic weight of age and experience. This is not a metaphorical woman but a person whose authority derives from having lived.

Across the exhibition, moments like these accrue importance. The women are no longer frozen in time and are instead allowed to exist within it. In doing so, Syed offers more than a critique of the archive. She models an alternative archival practice that is grounded in empathy, composition and the determination that women’s bodies are not sites of display, but storehouses of lived knowledge.

‘All the Women in Me’ was on display at Canvas Gallery, Karachi from January 20-29, 2026

Rumana Husain is a writer, artist and educator. She is the author of two coffee-table books on Karachi, and has authored and illustrated 90 children’s books

Published in Dawn, EOS, March 1st, 2026



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PROFILE: THE RESTLESS ENTREPRENEUR

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Umair Masoom with Sumair Rizvi (to Umair's right) and the myco team at the inauguration of their new office premises in Karachi in January 2026
Umair Masoom with Sumair Rizvi (to Umair’s right) and the myco team at the inauguration of their new office premises in Karachi in January 2026

One thing is certain: Umair Masoom knows how to spot a trend early. He is also not averse to risk; some would say he courts it.

The instinct seems rooted in a curious restlessness that his outward calm does not betray. The same restlessness carried him through 12 jobs in as many years; it also secured him $3 million in seed funding within two weeks of his pitch.

That idea, now myco, is a Web3 streaming platform where users can co-own content. By 2024, the company was valued at $80 million, following a $10 million Series A round. It has also secured multi-million dollar deals for territorial streaming rights to ICC events and the English Premier League in Pakistan.

Twelve jobs, one failed start-up and a move to Dubai later, Umair Masoom is betting Pakistan’s streaming future on myco — and on his own inability to sit still

LEARNING THE HUSTLE

Born and raised in the measured quiet of Islamabad, Masoom moved with his family to frenetic Karachi in 2003. After missing the admission deadline for his first-choice university, he enrolled at the College of Business Management (CBM, now the Institute of Business Management). He scored a 4.0 GPA in his first semester and remained a high achiever throughout his four-year degree. He was also on the college football team.

In his fourth semester, Umair joined an automotive industry magazine, visiting showrooms and even mechanic workshops to secure advertisements. By graduation in 2007, he had spent 18 months at the ARY Group. “Juggling classes with work while managing grades was very tough,” he recalls. “But at the end of it, I was interviewing people, including my batchmates, as they applied for jobs.”

This practical experience, says Umair, not only gave him an edge over his peers but also taught him the art of the hustle.

NO STRAIGHT LINES

Masoom completed his MBA over weekends while working for marketing and sales at major TV channels. “But there was no digital media at that time, only broadcast, so it became boring,” he tells Eos.

He spent stints in banking and broadcasting across nearly a decade, moving between institutions including Faysal Bank, PTV, and Burj Bank. “It wasn’t the traditional career trajectory,” Masoom acknowledges, possible only because his former employers were keen to regain his services.

In 2017, he launched his first start-up idea, Cricket Junooni, ahead of the Pakistan Super League. It included fan packages to travel with teams and dine and interact with players. It went belly up within eight months. “I learned a lot from the failure. I realised it’s not just about a great idea,” he says. “There were mistakes — financial ones, structural issues and errors in hiring the team…”

EVERYTHING IN PLACE

At the end of 2019, he received a call from his former boss at Burj Bank, Ahmed Khizar Khan, who was now with the Gargash Group — a major conglomerate in the United Arab Emirates. The head of that group had also served on the board of Burj Bank and was acquainted with Masoom.

Khan offered Masoom a marketing role at Daman Services, the group’s financial services arm. This was a pivotal moment, reveals Umair, as he was professionally successful and well-known in the local broadcasting industry, with key relationships in place.

Masoom’s two siblings were already in the UAE. His mother wanted her three children to be in the same city, especially after the passing of Masoom’s father — venerated broadcast journalist Masoom Usmani — in 2017.

His move to Dubai was followed by the coronavirus, but he remained a stellar performer and was soon elevated to the position of chief marketing officer for the entire group. “I was making great money, driving the best car, and everything seemed ideal, but then the restlessness reared its head,” he says.

Umair Masoom at the office of crowdfunding platform Republic in New York City in June 2024 | myco
Umair Masoom at the office of crowdfunding platform Republic in New York City in June 2024 | myco

ALL IN

During this time, Masoom kept a keen eye on the evolution of media platforms, particularly over-the-top (OTT) platforms in India and Turkey. “I saw a huge opportunity to build a large-scale video streaming platform, which I know will be the cable-cord cutter,” he says. “TV consumption is shifting from cable to OTT,” he adds.

Masoom started discussing the idea with colleagues and friends, including Sumair Rizvi — his college friend and a leader in the local advertising industry. They focused on the intersection of technology, media and e-commerce, and also launched a token for content creators.

The initial success convinced Masoom to go all in. In December 2023, he shared his plans with his employers. To his surprise, they decided to back him. But the investment also brought with it the pressure of delivering results, says Masoom. “We had to repay their trust.”

It resulted in extreme highs and major lows, including days when deals fell through or investors backtracked. “For instance, weeks after cracking the biggest deal of your career, you find out you don’t even have enough money for salaries,” says Umair.

Meanwhile, with tokenisation still awaiting regulatory approval in the UAE — Masoom expects it to happen over the next two to five years — myco had to pivot. Currently, myco is focusing on the freemium model, blending SVOD (subscription video on demand) and AVOD (ad-supported video on demand); some content is free with ads, while premium content is ad-free behind a paywall.

Umair believes that such a service will be Pakistan’s next unicorn and myco could lead the way. “But it will be an aggregation and consolidation of multiple entities, believing in the vision of having a billion-dollar plus video streaming entity,” he says. “That’s the Pakistani vision.”

At the same time, myco is building audiences in the MENA region, having offices in Egypt and UAE along with penetration across the globe. Their Pakistan team has grown to 120 people from a handful three years ago. In January, it moved the team to their new office in a state-of-the-art building.

BUILDING THE MOAT

When I met Masoom on Christmas day, he told me that myco had 40 million registered users and over 10 million active users monthly — a number set to rise during the ongoing ICC T20 World Cup, for which myco has exclusive Pakistan rights.

At the same time, it has mastered the art of creating synergy with their competitors, such as the Tamasha app, convincing them on collective bids for streaming rights, bringing down their individual costs and averting pricey bidding wars. Ad revenue is similarly divided, with the same ads running across platforms.

Some major challenges remain, adds Masoom, such as piracy, where local cable providers illegally show channels airing EPL matches or ICC events. “We pay millions of dollars for a marquee asset, while cable operators land an illegal feed and distribute it, he says, adding that the regulator, Pemra, does support them from time to time. This explains why popular international sports channels go missing from local cable during high-profile events.

THE NEXT BET

Masoom’s days remain hectic — calls, investor updates for backers in Silicon Valley and New York, and projects spanning multiple countries — but he has made deliberate room for what he once neglected.

Mornings begin with his seven-month-old. An hour goes to the gym. He has elevated five team members to co-founder status and is actively stepping back from the micromanagement that defined his earlier years.

The restlessness, though, hasn’t gone anywhere. He is already an angel investor in a number of new start-ups, and a new e-commerce venture he is co-founder in, BuyPass, has secured its first funding. For someone who once cycled through 12 jobs before finding his footing, that probably isn’t surprising.

“Keep exploring,” he says. “The right idea reveals itself along the way.”

The writer is a member of staff.
X: @hydada83

Published in Dawn, EOS, March 1st, 2026



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AQUASPORTS: FROM ZERO TO HERO – Newspaper

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Freediver Akif Raj hunting a grouper underwater | Akif Raj

“We were a bunch of students picnicking at [Karachi’s coastal] Mubarak Village. We spent the entire day there trying to catch fish by lowering a string into the water from the rocks, but we caught nothing. By evening, we were not just empty-handed and hungry but sunburnt as well.” Deep sea freediver and spearfishing instructor Akif Raj laughs at the memory from 20 years ago. “What a waste of time and effort it was.”

Akif found himself watching a freediving video on YouTube one day. He says he had always felt a pull towards adventure sports. “I did not play cricket or football, neither did I ride bicycles as a kid. I did think about scuba diving but its equipment was too expensive. But the YouTube video got me thinking. I realised that one doesn’t need any equipment except for a spear, maybe. I built a spear from an aluminium rod for myself,” he says. 

“I knew swimming already and, after watching more freediving videos on Youtube, I started practising on my own. Honestly, it feels like you are floating in space with zero gravity when you are under water. That spear I had built came in handy after two years, when I managed to hunt my first fish, a 200g yellowfin bream.”

Akif waxes on about his first catch. “It wasn’t easy, as it required going very near the prey,” he says. “I was so proud of my accomplishment that I did not let anyone touch my catch after bringing it home, though my mother wanted to cook it. I kept it in the freezer, so I could take it out and admire it whenever I wanted. I did that often until, one day, when a cat ran off with my prized possession.” He laughs.   

Pakistan’s first deep sea freediver and spearfishing instructor learnt his trade from YouTube videos. But he’s now trained thousands of others and dreams of representing the country in international competitions

Looking to improve on his weaponry, Akif frequented the junk and scrap market in Karachi’s Shershah, where he was lucky to come across an underwater gun. “But it needed repairs. The stretchable rubber part in it, which created its slingshot effect, broke after only one use. I had to mend it somehow. I tried to replace the part using the air bladder inside a football and rubber sheets, but it was not working. Then, one day, while lending support to a friend whose uncle was on his deathbed in a hospital, I found exactly what I was looking for in the tubing of a blood pressure checking device. I wished the uncle well and left in a hurry to rush to the medical supply shops, where I asked for the tubing,” he says. 

The repairs to the gun helped Akif catch many fish underwater. But while he would bring all his catch home with him, Akif wouldn’t let anyone cook the fish. “They were too beautiful to eat,” he explains wistfully.

Meanwhile, his mother was getting very sick and tired of all the fish. “It came to this that, when I returned home, she would only let me inside if I were empty-handed. If I came with a catch, she would tell me to go back to where I found it,” he chuckles. 

Akif on a boat headed to a hunting expedition

“Her attitude forced me to sell my catches. The first time I sold a fish I had hunted, I sold it for nine thousand rupees. It was good money, 17 to 18 years ago,” he shares. It gave Akif encouragement to hunt more fish and sell them. Once, he didn’t come home for two days because he was hunting for fish. That is how he made Rs30,000 by selling those two days’ catch.

More money started coming in this way, enabling him to improve on his equipment. First, he ordered for himself a pair of swim fins from Lebanon. Later, he was approached by a brand, Triton, from Ukraine. They had heard about him and offered him sponsored equipment, which included better diving gear and hunting equipment. 

“I also started educating people about freediving through social media. It also got me more fame and more sponsors. I am a brand ambassador for seven companies now that produce high-quality gear for freediving and spearfishing, besides being their freediving product tester,” he tells me.  

A few years ago, Akif also thought of teaching others what he had taught himself. “I wish swimming was made compulsory in our schools,” he says. Starting by teaching his friends for free, he started taking on other students who paid him fees for the classes.

“Today, I have over 2,500 students,” he beams with pride. “I call my course, in which I teach my students to dive as deep as 30 to 40 feet, ‘Zero to Hero’.”

The biggest issue faced by Akif while teaching freediving is getting access to swimming pools. His course spans only four to five days, for which he rents out the pools. The clubs where he conducts his courses want his students to acquire membership, however.

He says there are big international freediving championships taking place in the world all the time, in which he would like to compete. The 2025 CMAS World Championship Freediving Depth took place in Greece, where the top diver hunted a 7kg grouper. “And here we are hunting 30 to 40kg groupers all the time, thanks to Pakistan’s rich marine life,” he says, adding that Pakistani waters have 38 of the world’s best table fish.  

Coming back to international freediving championships, he says that he has an invitation to participate in the next one but can’t because of our country’s lack of understanding about this sport.

“I emailed our sports minister to allow me to represent my country in international freediving competitions, but I was asked why I don’t dive with a ‘batli’. Yes, he called the diving oxygen cylinders ‘batli’! I tried explaining about freediving to him but he didn’t get it,” he says sadly.

He also informs me that neighbouring India has no freediver but he has trained so many here in Pakistan. Still, he admits, we have no female freediver till now. “That seat is vacant,” he smiles. 

In the meanwhile, Akif keeps himself busy in his own freediving adventures. He says that freediving also promotes sustainable and selective fishing. “Otherwise our fishing practices, where our fishermen often use illegal mesh, catch the smaller fish or eggs too, which is devastating for marine life,” he says. 

Akif shares an incident where he found a bottlenose dolphin calf tangled in such a net. “It was crying. I approached it with the intention of freeing it, and its mother came too. I swear, she looked like she was praying as she watched me cut away the net.

“It took me half an hour to release it but, in doing so, I gained the friendship of the dolphins. The mother, in particular, recognises my boat. Whenever I go out to sea, in the winter mostly, she comes. And she brings me her new babies, too, along with gifts. Once she brought me an empty cold drink bottle. At another time, she brought me a pink shopper,” he laughs.

The writer is a member of staff. X: @HasanShazia

Published in Dawn, EOS, March 1st, 2026



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