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Abdul-Rehman Malik (VO): Welcome to This Being Human. I’m your host, Abdul-Rehman Malik. On this podcast, I talk to extraordinary people from all over the world, whose life, ideas, and art are shaped by Muslim culture. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: I don’t want to be dead while I’m alive. I want to feel every single thing. The pain that passes by me. The tears that, you know, come through my eyes. I want to experience everything because it’s all custom designed for me. It’s for me. 

 

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Abdul-Rehman Malik (VO): Yousuf Bashir Qureshi—or YBQ, as he’s affectionately known—is a fashion designer, artist, farmer, community builder, and storyteller. From designing for global icons like Madonna and Keanu Reeves to creating spaces for cultural dialogue in cosmopolitan Karachi, YBQ’s journey has been anything but ordinary. His work is rooted in a deep reverence for heritage while remaining vibrantly present, offering a unique blend of tradition and innovation. Raised between the fields of rural Sindh and the bustling streets of Karachi, YBQ’s life took him from military school to studying food science in Nebraska, and eventually to the glitzy streets of Los Angeles. Today he’s back in Pakistan and alongside his fashion line and cultural curation, he’s recently started acting in popular television dramas. I’ve never met anyone who’s come closer to my idea of a “renaissance man.” In this conversation, we delve into his fearless embrace of life’s challenges, his philosophy of awareness and love, and his commitment to creating spaces that foster connection and creativity. YBQ reminds us of the importance of authenticity, of looking within for answers, and of welcoming every experience as a guide from beyond.

 

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Abdul-Rehman Malik: I was introduced to the world of YBQ through one of your iconic designs, the YBQ dhoti. And as we were getting ready for this interview, you had mentioned that the dhoti, this, you know, the village sarong, is what you wear all the time. It’s part of your dress. The YBQ dhoti is like an iconic fashion object. I mean, you live in Karachi. I don’t associate the dhoti, the village sarong, with urban living. Yet here was this eminently desirable fashion item. Qureshi saab, when you decide to create something like the YBD dhoti, the garment from the village, from your roots, and you re-imagine it for the city and for a cosmopolitan world, what’s your intention?

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: You know, I became a fashion designer through the school of hard knocks. I never went to school for it. You know, in English, you’re in artist. In Urdu, you become a funkar. In Punjabi, you become a mirasi. When I understood the meaning of mirasi, it’s the person, you know, who’s taking charge of the miras, of the history, of our heritage. So I said, this is such a, why are we so ashamed of this word? And as a child, I was very infatuated by wearing the dhoti, so I always wore a dhoti, even as a child. So, you know, people made fun of me. And I wore a turban. I was like seven years old. And everyone, including the family, was making fun of, you know, what’s wrong with this little child, he’s wearing a turban, he’s got this fake mustache. And when I was in America, I was very into martial arts. So I used to, you know, take kendo. And that’s when I realized that clothes were made, not to hide, but to protect. So my protection side of that came from kendo. So it ties almost like a kimono. And the feel is of a dhoti. So a lot of people say, you know, we’re so scared, you know, will it fall off or something? I was like, no, no, I can guarantee my dhotis won’t fall, but, you know, the wind might blow it. So you take care of the wind and I take care of the fall. [laughter] It’s a dress for the aware. You always have to be aware. It becomes a Speedo in less than five seconds [laughter]. And you always have to be aware because, you know, it’s open from the front. This dress, you know, if you’re not aware, you know, then you’re naked. Then you’re not protecting yourself. So for me, it creates awareness for me. That I have to be, all the time, even when I’m sleeping, I’m in my dhoti. I’m sleeping in a place so that I don’t wake up with the dhoti in my face. It has to be where it should be. And my dhotis are different because they’ve got pockets. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: They do. They do! That’s what my brother-in-law said! He said these have pockets. It’s amazing. Tell us a little bit about where you are right now, Qureshi saab. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: Where I am is, it’s called Mirpur Sakro. It’s about 100 kilometres from Karachi. It’s my ancestral village. When I was born in ‘71, there was war, so I was brought here. So all our friends and some close families were here because Karachi was apparently being bombed. So this was a safe place. I was born and raised here in a lot of ways. My grandfather used to live here. And he had brought, back in the ‘50s, you know, these chikoo trees from Philippines and coconut trees from Sri Lanka. He actually flew them in! At that time, people hardly had passports and he was flying these plants in. And people are so amazed looking at the chikoos like, you know, there’s some guy who’s brought these potatoes that grow on trees. So people had not seen chikoos in this region at that time. 

 

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Abdul-Rehman Malik (VO): Although he is only 53 years old, YBQ has become something of a sagely figure for young artists. He still has a fashion line and convenes creatives from across Pakistan and around the world at his commune, but he offers something more. His online “sessions” attract tens of thousands of viewers and what he delivers is at once poetic, folksy, and poignant. YBQ is a man on a mission.

 

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Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: 25 years ago, I had written something that, you know, the problem in Pakistan is not poverty. I’m no expert, but again, you know, I’ve lived this life for 52 years and I lived every bit of it. So, you know, what I feel is in Pakistan, the problem is this poor mentality that doesn’t want to work, that wants to blame someone else, and that’s what killed us. And for that, we all need one, rehab. So I wanted to have a place here at the farm because I have these trees. You know, I want to have this sanctuary that I could heal people and I want to heal them through craft. I want to teach them a skill. If you have a skill, then only you will have a will to do something. You feel that you have power. When we say, you know, educate people, education is not just ABCD or, you know, giving your Cambridge exams, you know, it is a lot of things. And people before us, they were less educated than us, but they were not jahil. And now we are more educated and we are jahil. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Such a paradox, isn’t it? This idea that ignorance is not related to education or just the acquisition of education or knowledge, but it’s a deeper state of being, isn’t it? 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: It is. It is an awareness of being. It is why you are here. The reason that you belong. You know, our lines have not been written. It’s not a scribble. My lines and your lines connect today that we were supposed to meet. This was written. And a lot of times people say, you know, I wish I knew my future. I wish I do not know anything about the future. I will not have the will to love. I will not have the will to live, then. Then it’s not life. Then it’s just, you know, it’s a script then, that I already know.

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: That’s a beautiful and challenging proposition. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: It’s not challenging! If you’re in a situation, if you’re not thankful, then you’re nowhere. So, you know, that’s all I have. That’s all I get. And that’s all I need. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Your journey takes you from Karachi, this bustling city full of contrasts. And you found yourself studying food science in Lincoln, Nebraska. How did it feel to go from this colorful, cosmopolitan mad metropolis to this completely different world? 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: At that time, nobody knew where Nebraska was. The reason why I knew about it was because my grandfather had gone in the ‘50s with a farmers leader delegation, and he was awarded the honorary citizenship for the state of Nebraska. So that’s why I knew Nebraska. And then I was in a military school. I was in a cadet college here. And I just wanted freedom. And I had an aunt who used to live in New York and then some more family on the coasts. I said, I want to be in a place where there’s no one around, remotely close to me. I landed in Nebraska in December of 1989 in a blizzard. And in March was the first spring break, I think. And they hooked us with the host parents, host family. This host family had a farm, and they drove a combine! I was like, wow, I get to drive a combine. And they had horses. I was like, perfect. And they’re great. I am going to be their son. And they, you know, and we came and we chatted and they really liked me. And so like, okay, great, why don’t you come over spring break. So I’m all excited to go ride horses and ride the combine and live on the farm and, you know, missed my farm and tell my grandfather that I’m on a farm and I’m becoming a farmer. So I go to the farm, you know, there’s like, 500 pigs. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Wow. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: Man. I was like, Nancy, Robert, I love you to bits. But, you know, this pig business, I’m a Muslim man, you know, this pig business cannot happen. I mean, you touch pig, you can’t touch me. I mean, you go to that barn and you can’t come to my room. You smell like pig, you know, I am not hugging you, so I’m this cocky Pakistani, three months been in the States and thick Pakistani accent, like, “No, no, no, no. Pork is haram. You cannot do pork…”, you know? So we said, you know what Nancy did? What Nancy did, she drove to town, which was 30 miles. And she replaced every utensil in the house. You know, these people woke up and ate bacon. In the afternoon, they had ham  and at night, they had pork chops. And, you know, I was there for 15 days. These 15 days, these people did not eat anything. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: That’s very sweet.

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: You tell me, would I do something like that? No, I would not. I would not have done. Only now that I’m aware that there are people like this who exist,  that’s why I have become tolerant. You know, if we invite a Hindu in our house, we will eat our food and not be concerned, you know, it is offensive to them. That’s why I went to Nebraska. The people were beautiful. They were so loving. Beautiful humans. And they still are. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: And are you still in touch with them, Yousuf bhai? 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: Yes! My birthdays, my wedding, my children’s birthdays. They remember all that.

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: That’s stunning.

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: That is my family. You know, they gave me everything. Not just respect, love and space. They gave me a place in their heart.

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Wow. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: I learned so much from them. And I, you know, I owe this to, you know, a lot of these…I owe this to America also, because I learned a lot from all the people there. There’s not a namaz that goes by that I do not pray for everyone that’s helped me out there. That made me the person that I am today. Yes, my parents, of course. But these people, yes, they shaped up my life when my parents weren’t there, my brother wasn’t there, my sister wasn’t there, my friends weren’t there. These people who did not know me, were not from my race, not from my language, not of my color, you know, still open their hearts and their homes for a stranger, especially one like me – very cocky and very arrogant and very Pakistani! [laughter]

 

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Abdul-Rehman Malik (VO): Strangely, it was with his host family that Yousuf first became interested in designing clothes. Nancy and Steve had show horses, and Yousuf would participate in these horse shows, but he would wear very regal Pakistani clothes that, these days, men would only wear, perhaps, on their wedding day.

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: In shows, I used to wear costumes. I used to tell Ma, make me a shirwani and jamavar and a churidar or something, and I’d wear my pag and it was like, wow, what is this? They got fascinated.

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik (VO): After studying food science, Yousuf found himself briefly working as a microbiologist growing molds and didn’t exactly love it. He found himself searching for a new path. He wrote a column for the local paper every Wednesday. And after a while, people in Lincoln started to get to know him and the culture he came from. In the mid-’90s, he came across an abandoned pub in town and decided he would open up a cafe. It was called Silk Cafe and they served samosas, chai, and nihari – which he, of course, made and served himself. 

 

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Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: So I opened up the place in two months, you know, and the whole menu I cooked myself. I had laccha and roti. I had lassi. And, you know, these things, in the Midwest. And I made samosas with Spanish herbs. So the flavor was, you know, as a food scientist, I experimented and I was creative, you know, I said, okay, let’s give it a little thing. And it worked really well on my opening. You know, the governor of Nebraska, at that time, was Ben Simon and Ben Simon was governor and his wife actually came and, you know, did the inauguration. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: That’s amazing.

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: And I became the entrepreneur of the year and started this really nice…and it was called the Silk Cafe!

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: I love it. That move, Yousuf bhai, from running the Silk Cafe in Lincoln, Nebraska. And beginning to design. And then that shift to Los Angeles. And then, at that point, for those reading your bio, things sort of explode into all kinds of wacky directions. Madonna, The Matrix. Major brands. Yousuf bhai, what happened in L.A. that that was kind of the nexus of you jumping into this whirlwind?

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: See, in L.A. what had happened. I did a show in Vegas, The Magic Show. It was a trade show. And there, there were some Pakistani venture capitalists who had seen my stuff. And they’re like, what the hell are you doing in Nebraska? Come over to L.A. You know, at that time, we were just very struggling artists. And, you know, I’m just cooking at the Silk Cafe and, you know, doing this. And I just had it, so I said, you know, I need to see the real America now. And I got this opportunity. So I moved to L.A. with them. And initially, it was just great, great people to work with. But unfortunately, it was a little scam deal that these people would take companies public and they got indicted or something and they ran away and we were sent to the dogs. I mean, my visa status, everything, got totally floored in that. Initially, it was great. You know, I was driving these fancy cars and sports cars and stuff, and all of a sudden everything’s taken off and I’m on a bus and homeless with a child and a wife. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Wow. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: And I was like, what do I do? My father said, come back home. I don’t want to come back home like this. Do something, then come back home. So I got a job at a store called Mariani on Beverly Drive, which is right adjacent to Rodeo Drive. And the store was owned by this Georgian guy. Really fancy. Mike and his wife, who’s Russian, Kate. The sweetest couple. And they gave me a job as an assistant to manage the store. You know, she said, what do you do? I was like, I’m a designer. She’s like, oh, you’re a designer? I had some collections done by that time from Nebraska that I showed Kate. She just was like, why don’t you just do the display, our display, like that? I said, okay. 

 

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Abdul-Rehman Malik (VO): So Yousuf filled the window with all kinds of knick-knacks from back home. A village cot, some ornate jackets, some embroidered blankets. For LA in the 1990s, seeing traditional South Asian objects in the windows of Beverly Hills felt like something completely fresh and new. He started getting work as a window dresser for other brands, and began making a name for himself as a designer, eventually finding a studio space to work out of. But it wasn’t easy. He found himself getting a little tired of the LA lifestyle.

 

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Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: I was a struggling artist at that time. And I was doing stuff for free for so long and not making, you know, it was becoming hard. And I do this extra work. So one day, you know, I had this studio and this stylist, he just walked in and started looking at the clothes and I was in a bad mood. And, you know, I always obliged. Every time he came, I gave him so many clothes to wear and then him, for him also to wear. But he never gave me any work. And he walked into my studios in a bad mood and I was like, yes, how can I help you? He was like, oh, don’t worry, just do your work, I’m just looking around. I was like, your mother never taught you to knock before? [laughter] He said, what? Do you know who you’re talking to? I was like, right now, you’re in my space. Get out and knock. So he went out and knocked and I said, no, go away, I don’t want to see you today. Come tomorrow. He said, I’m going to make sure that nobody in Hollywood works with you and blah, blah, blah. I came outside with a baseball bat! I was like, one more thing, tell them all that I broke your legs as well. And I’m going to Mexico and from there I’m going to Pakistan. [laughter] So, I mean, he was an important guy. But I said, you know, I’m not getting paid and I’m not interested in being a celebrity. So why the hell am I doing this? So, like, you know, next time you want something, you pay for it and you’ll be polite. So I became, you know, all of a sudden, the nicest guy on the planet became this arrogant Pakistani anger boss, you know, keeping this baseball bat with him wherever he’s going and looking like this! You know, I was scary looking, too. [laughter] My closest friend was my grandfather, because he never understood what I was doing. But he never questioned it either. And he loved me regardless. And he used to come to America. And his daughters were there. His other grandchildren were there. He’d come stay with me and say, whoever wants to come meet me, come see me at Yousuf’s. If I was living in an apartment, if I was living in a mansion, it didn’t matter. He came and he stayed with me. It was a one bedroom apartment, my wife slept in the other room, and me and my grandfather and my son, we slept in one room. So it was, you know, that kind of thing. And one day, he called me up and he said, Yousuf, you know something, I miss you a lot, and I miss your kids a lot. So why don’t you just send your kids for a bit? And that was it. I told my wife, I was like, we’re moving. So I said, you know, I need to go back because…I didn’t want to go, everyone was going back home to die. I wanted to go back home to live. 

 

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Abdul-Rehman Malik: I have a small favor to ask you. If you enjoy this show, there’s a really quick thing you can do to help us make it even better. Just take five minutes to fill out a short survey. This is the Aga Khan Museum’s first-ever podcast and a little bit of feedback will help us measure our impact and reach more people with extraordinary stories from some of the most interesting artists, thinkers, and leaders on the kaleidoscope of Muslim experience. To participate, go to agakhanmuseum.org/tbhsurvey. That’s agakhanmusic.org/tbhsurvey.  The link is also in the show notes. Thanks for listening to This Being Human. Now, back to the interview.

 

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Abdul-Rehman Malik: In L.A., all of these experiences are sparking. It sounds like, as you’re describing it, you know, a life that is constantly…I mean, this incredibly creative life, emergent life. Things are sparking off. You’re designing, you’re with community, you and your beloved wife are raising a family, and then this decision to come to Pakistan at the…not even the request of your grandfather, but, you know, just at the words of your grandfather. I mean, it’s such a beautiful testimony to love. That love of family and elders and lineage. It makes total sense to me. You know, I think some people would read your story and say yeah, he’s at the cusp of all this acclaim and celebrity greatness, yet it’s the greatness of granddad, it’s the greatness of dada that brings you back. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: It was just, you know, I do not want… everyone said, do you regret coming back? Because if you would have been there, you would have done so well and you would have been this and that. I wish I had this awakening before. You know, I had a beautiful 7 or 8 years with him. I don’t even remember. I’ve forgotten the day he died. I don’t want to remember. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Yousuf bhai, you know, you returned from the United States. In a way, you cut a renaissance figure. There’s the fashion designer in you. There’s the journalist in you. There’s the cafe operator in you. There’s the farmer in you. There’s the mold grower in you. And yet, you come to Pakistan and something kind of really remarkable and special starts to happen around you and in the work that you’re doing. And I’m curious about how you see the role of heritage in your work. I mean, you draw on the wholeness of your heritage and yet, your sensibility, aesthetically and otherwise, it speaks to the moment. You hold many expressions together, the contemporary and the traditional, the being present and also drawing on your heritage. I’d love to understand this tradition that you have created and has sparked all this kind of creative flowering not only from you, but a community of people around you. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: See, the thing with the time when I was born in Pakistan, we were raised in three things. We were raised in fear. We were raised in guilt. And we were raised in greed. And everything that was told was some absolute lie. And we believed it. You know, I started studying other religions also. I went to church. I studied Hinduism. You know, for the longest time I thought I was a Sikh because, I mean, you know, you look at me, all my, you know, Quran, Ganga and muchan and lambe baal and pudaka. And for the longest time, I thought, you know, maybe I was Sikh and I did not understand what this religion business was. And but, you know, just when you start questioning yourself, only then you find answers. Because I found out all the answers within me and all the questions are outside of me. You know, I never got an answer when I would look for the answer outside. I always got the answer when I look for the answer inside. The questions are outside, the answers are inside. So you start questioning yourself, why am I here? What am I supposed to do? What do I like? And the thing was, I did not even know what I liked. I only liked what I was influenced to like. The whole thing was I wanted to know. And I want to get out of the lies. All the lies. From culture, from religion. Nothing is ugly. We make it ugly. The interpretation makes it ugly. You know, these colors, these religions, these professions, these languages, these faces, they were made so that we could recognize each other, they were made different so we could recognize each other, not differentiate. They were items to unite us, not divide us. You know, these are such beautiful things. Culture, language, professions. I had faith in one thing, that whatever is destined to me, none can take. And whatever is not destined to me, none can give. Jo din mere kabr ke andar wo bahir nahin or Jo bahir wo andar nahin [the day I’m in the grave, I’m no longer out of it, and when I’m out of it, I’m not in it]. That was the point of becoming fearless. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: That’s the right word. I watch your stuff. You know, we see the work that you’re doing. And there there is, yes. The fearlessness, Yousuf bhai, comes through. It shines through, actually. And I think that’s why, for so many people, it’s so compelling. Right? Because I kind of feel like, you know what, I might not always agree with Yousuf Bashir Qureshi, but dammit, what he’s going to tell me is going to be authentic and real and serious and he’s going to be open to having a conversation. I watch your talks online and I see how people react to you. And I particularly get a sense that, in this moment that we’re in, Yousuf bhai, you are addressing, quite directly often, social, cultural trauma. People approach you with the most heartbreaking personal situations. And I find that in the way that you respond to them, and I want to ask you, in a way, I often feel that you give them a path to reconnecting with their own spiritual DNA, their own cultural DNA. This great wellspring of civilization that is in them and around them. I think that’s remarkably transformative and creative. And I find the alchemy when you speak to those traumas, to those really human fractures, that what emerges is often really, yeah. It’s really breathtaking. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: You know, if someone’s calling you and they’re telling you about a situation that they can only share with their nearest and dearest. They have not come to you, they’ve been sent to you. And you need to come up with that solution for them, something that they’re not able to see or view. And hope is all we have. And if we can give them hope. You know, if I cure anyone, it heals me. It is my own healing. 

 

STING

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: When I first moved back, you know, I said, I’m going to start a commune. These were my ancestral warehouses, right? Very good property. But, you know, it was in dilapidated condition. There were, you know, people had illegally occupied it. And all this, again, I came to Pakistan and all these things that I had to face, again, here also, there are a lot of problems. Lyari Gang War was next door. All these things were happening. I had a very dear friend, you know, who got killed. So a lot of these things happened when I started the commune. And when I started all the artists, you know, first they said, you know something? If it’s an artist place, what are all these laborers doing? Because it’s a warehouse. People, I said, we need to learn how to coexist. And my first month, I remember, you know, you know, the street is a very, you know, kind of tiny street. Come through. I named it Miskin guli. Because I’m follower of Pir Miskin. So I started calling it Miskin guli. My address is actually Miskin guli. So everyone-

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: The lane of the impoverished. [laughter]

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: So my first show was an abstract art exhibition where this girl, beautiful artist, Sarah Bakhtiar. And she had these huge scale paintings and abstract, you know, paint thrown up. And it was just mouth and faces very, you know, to them, it was, you know, people would say, oh my God, where do you find beauty in this? One of the most beautiful artists I know. Her works and herself. I opened the show and invited all the guli wallahs. And they came in, they looked around like, this is what you guys do? And I was like, this is what we do. It was like, my kids can do better than this! [laughter] And then I started inviting them for every show and they became art critics. These people who were drivers and, you know, labor class. I mean, them and their kids, they would walk in there like, no, sir, the last artist was much better. I was like, how do you know? He’s like, the strokes were much, you know, they were not fearless. This one is with fear. Hand shaking. So they start seeing things, they start seeing things, you know, without judging them. And from the outside, you know, mullahs and all pathans and all this. And inside they come in and they’re talking about art and they’re talking to the artists. So if you see the port area New York, London, Paris, wherever you go, they used to be the slums and the artists came and took over. And so I’m glad, I was that one artist who started this area. And a lot of artists are coming here and, you know, I’m really, really happy and it’s…

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Yousuf bhai, the aesthetic is quite, is quite stunning. It feels like the theme of hospitality emerges the moment that you create a space like this. That we have a hospitable disposition, of course. But now we sort of scaffold and institutionalize hospitality. We create a space where hospitality is not only given, but by experiencing it, it’s taught. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: Hospitality jaan. I mean, different cultures show hospitality differently. But hospitality is human. It is a human need, you know, to host people. We love it. And we love being hosted also. So if you’ve never hosted, you would not know. You would want to be hosted. It’s a human thing. Hum log saare bolte hain ke, it’s very cultural, you know. Well, Pakistanis are the most hospitable people! No! I was not as hospitable as Nancy and Robert and Steve and Nancy, you know, who were in America. They were more hospitable.

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: The regard. The regard and the care and the, you know, it’s the small considerations which can only come from love, the hospitality and love are wedded, aren’t they?

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: You know, these people did not know me. They had not seen people like me. And we were more prejudiced. We were more racist than them. And we were told that they are racist. No. We were racist. We’ve been told lies all our lives. You know, the poor teachers also, they were told lies. Even the religious scholars were told lies. This fear of God, you know, this love of God had changed to fear of God. You know, when you fear something, you don’t come close to it. And when I figured out that God was within me, I was just far from myself. Your relationship with God is your relationship with yourself. You’re true to yourself, you’re true to God. You’re not true to yourself. And we’ve been taught how to lie to ourselves systematically and in a very conditioned, organized way, how we can distance ourselves from ourselves, how we are not able to feel anymore. You know, my air has become conditioned. Do you know what conditioning does? It does not let me feel what reality is.

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Right, yeah.

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: I get a headache. I don’t think about why did I get a headache? Did I curse someone, I thought ill of someone, did I not drink enough water? I did not exercise. No. I’m just going to take a pill. In less than ten minutes, my headache is not gone. I don’t know where the pain is. The feeling. I can’t feel it anymore. I become numb. That’s death. I can’t feel, then I’m dead. I don’t want to be dead while I’m alive. I want to feel every single thing. The pain that passes by me. The tears that, you know, come through my eyes. I want to experience everything because it’s all custom designed for me. It’s for me! You know, right now, I’m, two days I’ve been travelling and came back and didn’t rest. So my back is like, you know, when I breathe, I have a hard time breathing. And you know something? I’ve been, for two days, having this hard time breathing. But I’m so thankful, man. Now I know, you know, when I take, I did not know. This is the first time this happened. When I take a breath, my back hurts. It’s a spasm that I’ve got. And I’m missing my breath so much. All these breaths that I’ve taken before, I never realized til I have—so I needed this pain to become thankful again. More thankful. And mend my ways also. You know, I did not sleep right. I ate and I slept. I did not work out. You know, my prayers were missing. So I figured out why I have this problem and now I have to resolve it. But I wanted to live with it for a bit also. I want to enjoy the pain. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Yousuf, as you look back on what has already been an absolutely remarkable life and you look at the turns of that life, what would you say to a young person who had the same conditioning, the same programming that you’ve described? Being raised in fear and guilt and maybe even greed? What is that turn that they need to take, I need to take, as we as we shift from fear, guilt, and greed to something more expansive and generous and beautiful?

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: You need to take responsibility. That’s what. All these kids need to take responsibility. Simple thing, I know. Recently I started acting also in these dramas and stuff, so everyone’s like, wow, you know, you’re an actor also! And it used to really bug me when, you know, oh, a jack of all. And you know, it really, really bugged me, this word, jack of all and master of none. I was like, master is one and he’s made me king. I’m not going to settle for a jack. So that’s what I used to tell everyone. I’m going to try everything and I’m going to do, I mean, give it the best that I can. So I want, you know, all these younger generation, they’re much more honest than me, you know, they’re less greedier than me. I see my children. They’re a better version of me, a much better version of me. You know, they have less fear. They have less greed and they have less guilt. You have to believe in yourself. You’re allowed to love others, but only fall in love with yourself. Because when you fall, only you can catch. And falling in love with yourself is falling in love with God. It’s not much difference. And we all act. We all act. The gifted perform. The gifted are the one who are aware. Then what was this acting about? So acting. But only way they will believe I’m a good actor is when I’m performing well. The only way I can perform well is when I believe in my character. So for this, we’ve been given this beautiful prayer. You know, we have. So every actor who comes to me, I said, you know, prayer is like, you know, you say these spiritual things, you know, and like, no, honestly, whatever you want to say, say. But, you know, you have the script, you have the call time. You have five times rehearsal. The choreography is done. Costume is designed. And you’re playing in front of an audience you cannot see. You keep your eyes and ears open so that you’re aware of your surroundings and not be affected by it. You know, this namaz is such a beautiful thing and its prayers in every religion. So if you pray and be the character who’s praying, you’ll be excellent in everything that you do. This is an exercise. But you have to be in character and you have to believe in your character. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: I mean, I’ve, I spend a lot of time with remarkable people, and it’s taken me almost 50 years to hear that incredible insight. For that I’m particularly thankful. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: Well, I’m thankful to you because something… why did I say all these things? Something about you. I’m not saying that to Ashoke or someone else. You know, I’m saying that to you. So there’s something that you behold, also. The power. And that’s what we share. We inspire each other. That’s what we’re here for. You know, the other tells me, the other is so important, the other tells me how good I am, how bad I am, how honest I am, how good of a friend. The problem with the other comes, my eyes turn from me to other. We have to make sure that we’re still watching ourselves. Hence the dhoti! [laughter]

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: And it comes back to that, isn’t it? Awareness. 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: Awareness. 

 

MUSIC

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Yousuf bhai. Can you tell me about a joy or a meanness that came to you recently as an unexpected visitor? 

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: You. What more recent is that? You know, you united me with my grandfather, man, that’s the most recent, most beautiful thing, and I miss him every day. But the most recent, you’re telling me, it’s you. You made me think of him and cry and weep and miss him. So that was the most beautiful gift, man. Now is all I have. Now is all I get. And now is all I need. 

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik: Mashallah. Thank you for that, Yousuf bhai, and thank you for this incredible conversation.

 

Yousuf Bashir Qureshi: Thank you so much for this opportunity to come to you beautiful people. 

 

MUSIC

 

Abdul-Rehman Malik (VO): You can learn more about YBQ at YBQDS.com. This Being Human is presented by the Aga Khan Museum. Through the arts, the Aga Khan Museum sparks wonder, curiosity, and understanding of Muslim cultures and their connection with other cultures. This Being Human is produced by Antica Productions in partnership with TVO. Our senior producer is Imran Ali Malik. Our associate producer is Emily Morantz. Our executive producers are Laura Regehr and Stuart Coxe. Mixing and sound design by Phil Wilson. Original music by Boombox Sound. Katie O’Connor is TVO’s Managing Editor of Digital Video and Podcasts. Laurie Few is the executive for digital at TVO.