A 20-Year Reflection
It’s that time of year when I experience my annual “George Bailey” moment — a meaningful period for reflection and gratitude. This year is particularly special as I celebrate 20 years of my humanitarian, development, and peacebuilding journey. While some may hesitate to celebrate personal achievements in the wake of tragedy, I view the 2004 tsunami as a pivotal moment that reshaped my life — just as it did for countless others. This catastrophic event acted as a powerful catalyst, propelling me away from a conventional career in civil engineering that I had pursued since graduating from university in 2000.
After the devastating loss of five family members to the tsunami, I made a bold and transformative decision. I left behind everything I knew: I packed my belongings, rented out my house, and bravely returned to Sri Lanka — a country I had known only through summer vacations — as a volunteer to help the community. More than just a homecoming, this was a bold step into a new chapter filled with opportunity and purpose.
I was tasked with establishing the Muslim Aid Sri Lanka field office from the ground up. This role demanded strategic vision and leadership in hiring new staff and creating operational systems to meet the urgent needs in the aftermath of the disaster. Starting in 2006, as the civil conflict in Sri Lanka reignited, my focus evolved towards conflict resolution and peacebuilding. This shift allowed me to channel my energy into initiatives that fostered collaboration and dialogue among diverse groups, bridging gaps in a deeply divided society.
Over the past twenty years, I have transitioned through various roles, working with a think tank, engaging with a peacebuilding organisation, and providing consultancy to many entities, including the United Nations. Today, I am honoured to be part of the world’s largest and oldest humanitarian network.
Throughout my journey, I have faced challenges, each bringing opportunities. Many, including parts of my family, initially struggled to comprehend my choice to move away from a lucrative engineering career into the nonprofit sector. It was not typical in the early noughties for a young South Asian man graduating from one of the top Engineering universities in the UK to move from the coveted role of engineer with a prestigious engineering company to a humanitarian worker working with a faith-based NGO. People didn’t fully grasp the significance of humanitarian work. Some accused me of being in trouble and escaping and running away. Others thought I was having a mid-life crisis (at 26!!). While some may not fully understand where I work or what I do, I stand firm in my conviction that making that shift in 2004 was one of my life's best decisions.
Nevertheless, I have navigated and continue to navigate challenges, especially self-doubt and imposter syndrome. Being a natural introvert, it is often hard to make oneself heard in a world of jargon and goodwill, and people feel self-important because of the latter. In an ecosystem struggling to articulate a decolonised approach, trying to buck the trend is challenging, as people ‘question’ your abilities or experience or, worse still, your colour (and faith) can be limiting. It is even more challenging when I see peers excelling in their careers and receiving accolades for achievements after spending decades perfecting their singular crafts whilst I have moved around here and there. It can be easy to feel overshadowed.
I consistently ask myself critical questions about my impact and whether my presence makes a difference. I constantly question as to whether I made the right choice in 2004.
These questions have become louder recently, especially over the last 18 months. I have witnessed global inaction regarding protecting innocent lives. This is a challenging reality. It is easy to succumb to despair, and it isn't easy to overcome it. Yet, it is one’s responsibility to do so. You must believe that every contribution counts, focusing on the lives you touch and the positive change you can help create.
I draw strength from the people I serve and collaborate with every day. I cherish the smiles that emerge when your interventions meet their basic needs, whether providing food, shelter, or emotional support. I am inspired by the resilience of those who lose everything yet stand firm in hope and with a smile. The unwavering spirit of individuals who dedicate their time and resources to help others energises me and reinforces my purpose. I find profound joy in the prayers of gratitude of those in need, knowing their voices are heard.
Being paid to do this work is an incredible honour and privilege. Muhammad Ali famously said, “Service is the rent you pay for a room on this earth,” I wholeheartedly embrace this philosophy. Along with the Qur’anic injunction that “if you save the life of one person, it would be as if you have saved the whole of humanity” (5:32), these statements have motivated my sustained commitment to this field for the past two decades.
Throughout my career, I have had the honour of traveling to numerous countries and immersing myself in diverse cultures and traditions. I have engaged with remarkable individuals, from heads of state and royalty to activists, writers, and everyday people. This experience has reinforced a powerful truth: at our core, we all share a common desire to improve our lives and the lives of our families. We all value our loved ones, and we naturally have fears about what we do not understand and who we do not know.
When we humanise one another and break down barriers, we uncover the reality that the “other” is navigating life the same way we are — step by step. This recognition represents a crucial breakthrough that fosters respect, acceptance and understanding. I firmly believe that authentic dialogue is essential for promoting trust and respect. While we may not always agree, we can create a safe and courageous space for open communication and learning.
There is strength in difference. Diversity is a fact; Inclusion is an act, and Belonging is an outcome. As we confront the complexities of our interconnected world, we must acknowledge that we cannot simply avoid one another. We are responsible for coexisting, supporting each other, and honouring our shared humanity. We must do more to ensure belonging and inclusion, but this does not mean acquiescence or compromise.
I’ve understood that personal and professional lives are intricately intertwined and embedded. There is no separation or professional/personal life balance. There is just life balance. Achieving a balance in life comes from what you make of it; you are judged for all you have done and how you have treated people in all aspects of life. How you show up in one part of life depends on other parts. Suppose you have had a bad day at home; this can happen at work and vice versa. You need to show up 100% in whatever you do, and that means that things are not in silos but connected. I have learnt that on your deathbed, the most important thing is about the people you touch, the relationships you build, the experiences you have, the kindness you display and the compassion you have in dealing with things.
Life (careers, personal, family) is like a mango tree. It must develop deep roots in the ground to ensure proper nutrients and a solid foundation, spreading the networks wide and getting influences from all over. A solid trunk is needed to act as an appropriate support to hold the weight of all the expectations. That trunk grows with time but needs the roots to feed it. The foliage and the branches spread far and wide, providing opportunities for sun and rain. The branches and leaves provide much-needed shelter, cover and comfort for those seeking it, especially during rain or extreme sun. The branches offer opportunities to climb to pick the fruit, yet you never climb vertically. To get to the top of the mango tree, you need to move up, come down or move sideways. This is what life is. Getting ahead in life is never a straight climb up a ladder. Lastly, like a mango tree, you must return fruit when a stone is thrown at it.
I am incredibly privileged to be working in a social movement alongside 17 million other people who passionately and sincerely believe in promoting human dignity for all, preventing and alleviating human suffering wherever it may be found, and not discriminating as to nationality, race, religious beliefs, class or political opinions using the tools of neutrality (to take sides in hostilities or engage at any time in controversies of a political, racial, religious or ideological nature) and independence through voluntary service, unity and universality. While these Fundamental Principles of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement have been sorely tested and challenged, they remain essential as a north star and compass to navigate these difficult times. It is an honour to be part of the work of these individuals and others who conform daily to the code of conduct.
When I look back at the last 20 years, I can only ponder that it is through God’s grace that I have climbed the mango tree in the way I have. I am grateful to God for the opportunities and challenges (that have helped me grow) that have come my way. Without His Mercy, Guidance and Comfort (especially during some of the darkest times), I would not have made it through. I am grateful to my family and friends who are too numerous to cite by name, who have and continue to support me. Special shout out to my wife and son for their patience and support during these times, especially when I am away from home (supporting other families instead of mine). I am grateful to the guidance and mentorship of my late father (may God be pleased with him), on whose shoulders I stand, trying to push forward a vision of making the world a better place. I am grateful for the ongoing support and mentorship from my dear sister, Dr Jemilah Mahmood, who continues to support, inspire, and guide me. Is there any time I need to seek advice? I am also thankful for my spiritual guru, Rev Ebenezer Joseph, who routinely helps me appreciate and understand the role of faith in our work and helps me know that you can still do interfaith work without compromise. All that is needed is trust-building, dialogue and patience. He routinely reminds me of the need to pause and listen.
As I continue my journey, I remain confidently committed to making a meaningful impact in the lives of those I come across — hoping that my work matters and that every small change contributes to a greater collective good. I am unsure where the next 20 years will take me, if I will be alive in the next 20 years, or whether the next branch of life I will climb will be like the last.
I am at a crossroads as I now ponder my legacy and what I want to leave my son and the world. I don’t know if the next 20 years will be focused on more humanitarian, peacebuilding or development work or something completely different. There are hopes and aspirations for what might be, but what will be is something for the future. I pray that whatever I do or wherever I go if I can help make the world slightly better than when I found it, this will be done my way.
