Let’s start at the beginning—what first drew you into music and composition? Was there a specific moment or influence in your early life that made you realize music would be your path?

Music has always been my first language. I grew up in a mixed household, and sound was one of the first places I found comfort and meaning. My dad would play old records – Indian classical, Bob Marley, East African fusion, and my Mom would play Abba and Joni Mitchell…and I remember lying on the carpet, just absorbing. One of the first moments I knew this would be my path was as a teenager, when I started writing songs on acoustic guitar. I realized then that I could process and create meaning in the world through this magical medium.

Your work blends a rich fusion of folk, soul, and world music with East African and Indian influences. How did your Indo-Tanzanian heritage and Canadian upbringing shape your unique sonic palette?

My sound is really a reflection of the cultural conversations happening inside me. I’m the child of an immigrant – my father is Indo-Tanzanian and my mother is Irish/Scottish Canadian. So growing up, I’d hear Swahili and Hindi alongside English; I’d hear tablas and harmoniums, but also Joni Mitchell and Motown. That layering of identity and rhythm became intuitive. As I started producing my own music, I realized I didn’t have to choose one side or sound – I could weave it all together in a way that felt honest.

You recently composed the score for The Queen of My Dreams, which earned you a Canadian Screen Award nomination. What was it like scoring a film so deeply rooted in cultural storytelling, and how did you approach its emotional and musical layers?

Composing for The Queen of My Dreams was one of the most meaningful projects I’ve ever worked on. 

It was an incredibly personal and expansive experience. Fawzia Mirza, the director, brought such intention to every frame and I felt deeply honoured to be part of the storytelling. The film dances between Pakistan and Canada, past and present, mother and daughter – and those contrasts became my guide for the score. I used modal singing, analog synths and live strings to reflect both cultural specificity and universal emotion.

Now that The Queen of My Dreams is releasing in the U.S., how are you feeling about it reaching a broader audience?

I’m excited and hopeful. This film holds such tenderness, complexity and joy, and it centers stories that are rarely shown on a big screen. For it to now be shared with a wider audience, especially in the U.S. where diasporic stories are still so underrepresented; feels powerful. I hope it resonates with people who have ever felt in between worlds or longed for understanding across generations.

You’ve collaborated with artists like Desirée Dawson—how do you approach producing music for other artists compared to your own work?

When I’m producing for someone else, I step into the role of musical midwife; I’m there to help birth the vision that exists in the artist. With Desirée, who is such a thoughtful and intentional artist, the process is deeply collaborative. I am in service of the song and the process itself. My goal is always to focus as much on the EQ of the energy in the room as what I’m seeing on the screen; something I think female and gender expansive producers and engineers are uniquely gifted with.

As a self-produced artist and audio engineer, you’ve maintained a rare level of creative control. What are some of the challenges—and freedoms—that come with wearing so many hats in the production process?

The freedom is in being able to shape the music exactly as I feel it; from the vocal tone to the mix reverb. That control has been essential, especially as a woman of colour in a field where our sonic voices are often filtered through someone else’s lens. The challenge, though, is in the weight of it all. Producing, writing, engineering, mixing – it can be a lot to hold emotionally and technically. But I’d rather carry that load than dilute the intention of the work. Over time, I’ve also built a community with other producers and engineers I trust, so I don’t always have to do it alone. I prefer collaboration these days.

You’re currently teaching at Berklee College in the Music Production and Engineering department. How has stepping into the role of educator influenced your perspective on music production, and what do you hope your students take away from your classes?

Teaching has been such a beautiful mirror. It’s made me reflect on how I’ve learned; often through trial, error and intuition, and how I can demystify that process for others. I tell my students: production is not just about gear or plugins – it’s about listening deeply, trusting your instincts and holding space for emotion. I hope they leave my class not only with technical skills, but with the confidence to trust their unique sonic voice, especially those who’ve been told they don’t belong in the studio.

You’ve worked internationally and draw from a global range of sounds – are there particular cultures or musical traditions you find yourself returning to again and again for inspiration?

Yes…modal music always calls me home. Whether it’s Indian raga, Arabic maqam, or Irish folk, there’s something about that open-ended, non-Western approach to melody that resonates in my bones. I’m also continually inspired by rhythms from the African diaspora; Swahili coastal music, Afro-Brazilian percussion, and West African polyrhythms. These traditions are not only musically rich – they carry stories, resistance, revolution and connection.

rom JUNO-nominated albums to socially impactful compositions like the World Down Syndrome Day Theme Song, your work often carries a message. How do you balance artistry with activism, and do you believe music still holds the power to shift cultural narratives?

I do. Music is one of the most ancient tools we have for healing, remembrance and collective awakening. For me, activism is not separate from artistry; it’s embedded in the intention. The craft must be strong, the emotion genuine.  When done with care, a song can be a form of resistance, a balm, or a bridge. I still believe music can help shift hearts and when hearts shift, systems eventually follow.

Looking ahead, are there any new projects or collaborations you’re especially excited about? Whether it’s your own music, another film score, or something you’re working on at Berklee, what can we look forward to next?

There’s so much on the horizon that I’m excited about. I’m working on a new album that’s the most rhythmically bold and sonically expansive thing I’ve done; it blends my love of ancestral grooves with future-forward textures. I’m also producing a few albums for artists I deeply respect and continuing to compose for film. At Berklee, I’m building a new curriculum that centers gender-expansive and culturally rooted approaches to production. My dream is always the same: to keep making honest, heart-led work and helping others do the same.

Interview by Alex Petkovski

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