Tell us about your earliest memories of reading and the kinds of books, comics, or magazines you read while growing up that first drew you into stories.

My earliest memories of reading were mostly comics that I found in my grandmother’s home in Vellore—Phantom, Richie Rich, Mandrake, and then I progressed to reading Enid Blyton, which my aunt introduced me to. My father was an avid reader as well, but he read in Urdu which I hadn’t learnt at that time. Nevertheless, he got me the books I asked for, which were the ones kids in my time read—Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, etc. I also had several copies of the magazine Misha which was very popular in the late 1980s and early 90s. What fascinated me about reading was how easily it could take me out of where I was, into another world altogether and the more I read, the more I wanted that.

When did the idea of becoming a writer first feel real to you? Were there particular authors, teachers, or family members who encouraged you to take your writing seriously?

I was eight when I decided I wanted to become a writer. It was a solitary moment in father’s home office in Hong Kong where we used to go for our summer vacations when we were kids. He wasn’t in the office then, so I went in and sat on the revolving chair, which I found very fascinating. But as the chair spun, and my hands found the desk as the chair slowed down, I had this intense urge to do something, to write, and I decided that was what I was going to do.

My family members have always been very encouraging, but one especially, my granduncle Mohammed Abdul Latheef, who was a professor of English and the head of the department at New College, Chennai, loved receiving the stories I would write and post to him. He would always applaud my efforts and push me to keep writing. Unfortunately, he passed away a few years before my first novel was published, and he didn’t get to see me become a writer.

Bengaluru is a constant setting in many of your books. How has the city shaped your imagination and your understanding of urban middle-class life as you explore it in your work?

As a writer, I’ve always wanted to be authentic in everything I write. For this, I had to draw from my own experiences, and they were rather limited, I felt. So I focused on what I knew, what I could see, and what I could access, and this became the lens through which I saw my stories in the world. Until 2025, I’d never lived anywhere else other than Bengaluru, so it became natural that my writing would feature the city that I called my home. I’ve been in this city for more than four decades, and I’ve seen its evolution, so a good deal of my understanding comes from my lived experiences here.

You write across multiple genres—from romance and YA novels to horror and mystery. How do you switch from one genre to another in your writing process, and which genre feels most creatively rewarding for you at this point in your career?

I switch genres when I feel like I’ve been tied down to a particular one for a long time. Also, there are times when I just feel like working on a horror novel instead of romance, so I give in to those creative urges and see where it takes me. Writing romance feels easy, but it isn’t because I don’t want to go down the clichéd path. I want to write something that feels fresh every time, and that can be difficult. Writing horror is very challenging because creating fear and unease in the reader’s mind is not easy. Fear is a very subjective matter after all.

As for the most creatively rewarding, it would have to be writing Young Adult fiction, which has always been closest to my heart. As I grow older, I used to feel I wouldn’t be able to connect with young adults easily. I still feel there are some hits and misses, but the feeling of needing to find oneself, the feeling of insecurity, and that confusion seem to be something that’s universal across young adults, irrespective of the generation they belong to.

Over the past two decades you have published a number of books while also managing your family responsibilities. How challenging has it been to balance family life with consistent writing practice, and what has helped you sustain this rhythm of bringing out a book every year or so?

I’ve been very lucky to have a supportive family from the very beginning of my writing career. They’ve indulged me and let me do what I want, which is a privilege, I’ve realised, because I’ve seen other writers struggle in this same thing. My challenge has been to be consistent more than anything else.

In your books, Muslim women feature prominently as main protagonists. Do you feel contemporary Indian fiction still lacks nuanced portrayals of the everyday lives of Muslim women beyond the usual stereotypes? What kinds of stories about them do you wish were written about more often?

I think I’ve always seen myself as belonging to the mainstream and not the “other”. And this was something I’ve always taken for granted. So when I started writing books, naturally, I was going to centre Muslim women because who else will tell our stories if not someone with the lived experience of what it means to be a Muslim woman? I can’t make a blanket statement about contemporary Indian fiction and how Muslim women have been portrayed in it because to be honest, I haven’t read that much recently.

My reading has mostly revolved around reading YA and middle grade fiction written by Indian authors which undeniably has my heart. As for the stories that I wish were written, I think I want to see stories of Muslim women owning who they are and going out to achieve whatever they want, just like everyone else. I want to see stories where there isn’t a “saviour” who comes in to show the right way. I want to see stories of Muslim women putting themselves first. Like Abir in my novel The Henna Start-up.

The book chronicles her personal losses during the second wave of COVID-19 in 2021, when her husband and mother-in-law passed away. She uses the everyday act of making tea as a lens to explore survival, loneliness, and rebuilding daily life while grappling with grief and loss of loved ones. | Photo Credit: By Special Arrangement

Do you ever feel the burden of being seen as a “representative” voice for your community when you write about Muslim characters, especially in today’s polarised climate where Muslims are frequently stereotyped and demonized in mainstream media and Bollywood movies? How do you negotiate that expectation?

When I started writing, I never really considered this aspect. My only focus was on telling a good story and telling it well. If the characters were Muslim, that was entirely incidental. Even now, I write stories featuring “normal Muslims” but the onus has shifted and I’m often lauded for bringing this aspect into the world, so people can see what “normal Muslims” are like. And this frankly baffles me. What else can we be like? And then I see the stereotyping and demonising in popular culture and I understand that as much as I shrug it off, it has become important in its own way. I don’t take the responsibility lightly now but it also makes me very uneasy.

In your YA novels and children’s books, young characters are constantly negotiating peer pressure, social media, and family expectations. When you meet young readers and teens, what are some of the anxieties, desires, and ambitions they most want to see reflected in the books they read?

While young adults of all generations go through their own tumult, I think teens today have been through more than their share, be it the pandemic, unrest across the world, wars, and also because they have access to information and misinformation at the same time. I think with so much stimulation, there’s always a temptation to disconnect, to cocoon themselves in things that make sense to them in a way that won’t to someone from another generation. But what I have seen is that there’s an underlying need to be understood, even if they’re unable to communicate it. I’ve always thought of books as safe spaces, so I try to create a safe space for them in mine as well, to let them understand that there are times when life will be out of control and it’s okay if they can’t verbalise it or articulate it right away.

In today’s age of constant screens and social media distractions, how can children and teens discover the joy of reading more books? What role can parents and teachers play to help in this regard?

For a good number of children, reading is always connected to something that brings tangible results, especially in the eyes of their parents. The focus is always on “learning” and making sure that it can be applied somewhere in the real world (exams). These are things that instantly rob the joy from reading. If children are allowed to read for pleasure, they will certainly read more, although it is getting more and more difficult, given the lack of attention spans and the access to a lot of mind-numbing entertainment. But the point is: read to enjoy, not always to learn. That might tip the scales in the favour of reading, I hope.

In your recent memoir, you write about the grief of losing your husband and mother-in-law during the spread of COVID-19. Did the act of writing this memoir help you make sense of that loss, and has it changed the themes you want to explore more in your future work?

Writing is how I make sense of the world around me. So naturally, writing the memoir was a way for me to understand who I have become in the aftermath of that loss. But it was also about healing, about preserving the reality of those lockdown days, of looking at what happened before memories fade. Before 2021, I did write about death. I’ve seen it first-hand over the years of course. In fact, I wrote about a protagonist’s father dying in More Than Just Biryani and I felt I had conveyed the despair and anguish of the mother adequately.

But somewhere, I think there was a mild sense of detachment, a feeling that this isn’t how I would react if I were in that position. But going through it, losing my husband in the pandemic, made me realise that nothing could really prepare me for losing my loved ones like that. That I might have bounced back seemingly easily, and I might look normal on the outside, but on the inside, there was a well of grief that didn’t let go of me easily. So I think in the books I’ve written since then, I feel like I have tackled death differently. In my latest novel Until We Meet Again, the protagonist’s father dies, but there’s a world of difference in the way I handled it now and the way I wrote it in More Than Just Biryani.

Could you name a few writers and books—Indian or international—that you return to often, that have also influenced and shaped your own writing over the years?

There are so many! In India, I absolutely devour anything that Shabnam Minwalla writes. There are others as well, who are “auto-buy” authors for me, such as Bijal Vachcharajani, Menaka Raman, Lavanya Karthik, Paro Anand, Aparna Kapoor and Sanjana Kapoor to name a few. I also love books by Shilpa Suraj, Apeksha Rao, Zarreen Khan and Milan Vohra. I recently read Rudraneil Sengupta’s The Beast Within and loved it.

Internationally, my tastes veer towards romance, crime and YA fantasy, so I enjoy books by Lisa Jewell, Ali Hazelwood, Clare Mackintosh, Gillian McAllister, Sabaa Tahir, Leigh Bardugo and Holly Jackson to name a few. I’m not sure if these have actively influenced my work but I read for pleasure and to decompress and I’m sure subliminally, they’ve helped me become a better writer.

When you look back at your writing and publishing journey so far, what are some key lessons it has taught you that might be useful for writers who are just starting out?

So, publishing is a long process and the key is to not lose patience. Things happen slowly on that front. It was also one of the reasons I switched to self-publishing some of my romance novels. But what I’ve learnt is that it helps to write in a bubble. By that, I mean, it’s easy to lose hope and feel despair when you see others succeed. It’s important to stay focused on your own work and know that things will work out for you when the time is right. It might not happen immediately, but have faith that it will happen eventually. So don’t get distracted by the accolades that others are receiving, be it publishing deals or awards, or movie adaptation deals. Good things come to those who wait (and keep writing!)

For readers interested in books that explore contemporary Muslim lives in India, are there any novels or nonfiction works you would recommend?

I would highly recommend Zara Chowdhary’s The Lucky Ones. It’s gut-wrenching and real.