“Whenever I read a story, I instinctively make myself the centre of it. I become the hero. I read the script like a novel, and it becomes deeply personal. When that happens, my work comes from the heart. That connection shapes how I approach a project as a director. No matter the plot, I choose stories that move me enough to make them personal,” Musaddiq Malek tells me as we settle into conversation.

For the uninitiated, Musaddiq Malek is the rising star of direction in television serials. He has recently completed the avidly watched Hania Aamir-Bilal Abbas starrer Meri Zindagi Hai Tu (MZHT). But over the course of his director’s portfolio it’s obvious there is a depth to his reading of scripts and characters that is not exactly common. This is what I am interested in probing.

Musaddiq Malek’s path through Pakistan’s media landscape has taken him from working on sprawling film sets as an assistant director to confidently stepping into the dual roles of director and actor on mainstream television.

An alumnus of the National College of Arts (NCA), Malek’s initial experience included working on large-scale cinematic productions, including the Humayun Saeed vehicles Jawani Phir Nahin Aani 2 (JPNA 2) in 2018 and London Nahin Jaoonga (LNJ) in 2022, in which he worked as an assistant director and also played brief roles.

Director and actor Musaddiq Malek has come a long way, from assisting on film sets to shaping prime time television. With the success of serials such as Habs, Noor Jahan and Meri Zindagi Hai Tu, what perhaps sets him apart is his discerning eye — going to the crux of stories and characters to shape them on the screen

These experiences broadened his technical understanding of high-stakes production environments. Malek then transitioned into television acting, when director Haseeb Hassan cast him in a significant role in the 2019 serial Alif. The performance paved the way for subsequent appearances in other primetime TV serials, including Mere Paas Tum Ho (MPTH) in 2019, Habs (2022) and Main Manto Nahin Hoon (MMNH) in 2025.

FROM FILM SETS TO THE DIRECTOR’S CHAIR

Malek also made his directorial debut in full-fledged dramas with Habs, in which he successfully balanced responsibilities both in front of and behind the camera.

His directorial portfolio also includes the telefilms Absolutely Knot (2021) and Achari Mohabbat (2024), as well as the serial Noor Jahan (2024). And, of course, Malek helmed MZHT, which concluded this year, and registered excellent ratings.

After completing a four-year degree in filmmaking from the NCA, Malek interned at Evernew Studios in Lahore before moving to Karachi, where his work life began in earnest. He attributes his success to his education and his hands-on experience and stresses its importance.

“Honestly, with those credentials, if I weren’t a good director, I would have to question my very existence in this field. I am a firm believer in being a dedicated student of the craft before attempting to lead it,” he says.

Crediting director Nadeem Baig as a key influence on his career (Nadeem directed the films JPNA 2 and LNJ and the dramas MPTH and MMNH), Malek says, “Nadeem Baig is a master of clarity — a filmmaker who commands the lens with surgical precision. Unlike those who remain dependent on assistants, he possesses an innate, total authority over his craft, knowing exactly how a scene must unfold and precisely how it must conclude.”

Malek also assisted Saba Hameed on Ghalti (2019), during which she was simultaneously acting and directing, and he also considers her a major influence. He recalls that Hameed appeared in a majority of the scenes — 500 out of 800 — while also directing the drama. “She would set the shot, step into the frame to act, then return to the monitor, like a strict teacher, to scrutinise the playback. It takes immense confidence to trust your team in a dual role.”

The 100-day experience of Ghalti grounded him and later helped him direct Saba Hameed in Noor Jahan.

“I doubt any other director could have convinced Saba apa to sit on a wooden jhoola [swing] and perform as I requested. That was the result of the pure, mutual trust and respect we have for each other.”

As mentioned earlier, Malek’s journey into acting includes roles in writer Khalil-ur-Rehman Qamar’s serials MPTH and MMNH, and he considers the impact of those experiences on his craft to be a rare privilege for which he is profoundly grateful.

“In MMNH, I inhabited the role of Naurez, a character caught in the crossfire of a generational family feud,” he says. “Naurez is the living embodiment of the cycle of violence. His physical disability and emotional scars are the direct collateral damage of his family’s history of hate. While Naurez’s role was sensitive, it was also quite powerful and I poured my heart and soul into bringing his story to life.”

You can tell that Malek knows how to delve into the inner life of a character.

HABS: THE ART OF SILENCE AND SUFFOCATION

However, Habs was where he began to define his directorial voice.

The drama, which is remembered for its slow-burn pace and overwhelming sense of emotional suffocation, remains quite understandably very close to his heart. Malek explains that he approached it not as a conventional romance but as a psychological study of damaged individuals.

“I relied heavily on the power of pausing during scenes and letting the silence between Basit [Feroze Khan] and Ayesha [Ushna Shah] speak louder than the dialogue,” he elaborates. “It was to highlight their deep-seated disconnect and shared internal conflicts. I used visual isolation to transform the protagonist’s home into a gilded prison.”

Both Feroze Khan and Ushna Shah delivered very intense portrayals in Habs. How did you ensure they avoided typical television tropes, I ask Malek.

“We focused entirely on the ‘why’ behind all their interactions. For Feroze, it was about revealing his raw vulnerability hidden beneath his arrogance, so that the audience understood his trauma, rather than judging him as merely a rigid man.

“With Ushna, we avoided the damsel-in-distress cliché and maintained her dignity, even as her world crumbled around her. Their chemistry was collaborative and built after we spent hours dissecting non-verbal cues to ensure their pain felt authentic and grounded to the viewers.”

In addition to directing Habs, Malek also played the character of Fahad in it — a character defined by exceptional loyalty as Basit’s right-hand man and confidant.

“Fahad’s character was far more complex than my previous roles, because the drama relied heavily on what was left unsaid,” he recounts. “Navigating a friendship layered with underlying trauma required significant non-verbal acting. While my role as Monty in Mere Paas Tum Ho was simpler, Fahad required a more technical, nuanced approach.”

He notes that Fahad functioned as an emotional bridge — someone who understood Basit’s silence and could confront him when necessary.

NOOR JAHAN: POWER, CONTROL AND CONSEQUENCE

Noor Jahan, which became a sort of cultural phenomenon, expanded Malek’s canvas into familial territory.

“The drama laid bare uncomfortable truths about power within families,” he explains. “Viewers hadn’t witnessed such a stark contrast between a cutthroat antagonist Noor Jahan [Saba Hameed] and an inspirational protagonist Noor Bano [Kubra Khan]. The themes of maternal control mirror real-life tales that many Pakistanis have either heard of or lived through. The cultural relevance was as precise as surgery.”

And what about the intense finale — why did he choose to end the story with Saba Hameed’s character living in isolation, her children having left alone in a mansion, visiting her only occasionally, as seen in the final scene, while the younger Noor Jahan withholds her newly born son from her? After all, he could have opted for a conventional “happy ending” typical of most dramas?

If I weren’t a good director, I would have to question my very existence in this field. I am a firm believer in being a dedicated student of the craft before attempting to lead it.”

“The ending had to be earned and truthful. I actually changed it. The original script had Saba Hameed’s character being diagnosed with cancer, but I believe the ending is a director’s sovereign domain. We couldn’t grant Noor Jahan such an easy redemption.

“The final scene showcased a woman who prized control above all else, but was left with nothing except her own reflection. It was a quiet, profound tragedy about the cost of power, and encouraged viewers to bid goodbye to generational trauma.”

The grapevine is abuzz regarding the continuation of the Noor Jahan universe. Is a sequel or spin-off in development, I ask.

“Yes, except that it isn’t a sequel but a prequel, titled Noor Bano. It explores the story of Noor Jahan’s daughter-in-law, who shares her name. It’s a fascinating exploration of the roots of her resentment. The younger Noor Jahan seeks retribution from her mother-in-law, who made her early life a real struggle.”

MERI ZINDAGI HAI TU: LOVE, LIES AND LONELINESS

The conversation turns to MZHT, which explored the thin line between genuine love and deception. What was the emotional anchor in the script for Malek?

“It served as a cautionary tale against taking emotional shortcuts,” says Malek. “The central message is that healthy, enduring love can only flourish when you lay all your cards on the table — flaws and all. The directorial journey was about peeling back those layers of deception to reveal the core truth.”

Convincing Bilal Abbas to take on the role of Kamyar proved to be a challenge, Malek recalls. When the script was first narrated to him, Abbas reportedly expressed hesitation, noting that he had never played a character of this nature before. He made it clear that the experiment was uncharted territory for him, adding that if the drama and performance worked, it would be due to the director’s guidance and, if it failed, the responsibility would also rest with him.

“Kamyar [Bilal Abbas’ character] was intricately layered and emotionally guarded — charming yet impulsive,” says Malek. “Battling the weight of past betrayals, he wasn’t inherently malicious. He was simply infatuated and desperately fleeing from his own truth. The character needed to be developed so that the audience recognised the deep-seated loneliness behind his swagger, rather than dismissing him as merely problematic.”

At least this director understands that the character was problematic. How do you respond to those who feel that substance use was shown too frequently in MZHT, I ask.

“Honestly, I feel like I’ve actually been quite conservative with that. There are only four or five instances in the entire drama where the character is actually consuming alcohol. As for the scenes where Kamyar appears intoxicated, that was simply the character’s nature. I was telling the story of a functioning alcoholic, and I don’t see any other way to paint a realistic picture of that struggle without showing him in that state.

“Interestingly, I haven’t seen any critique regarding the performance of his intoxication,” continues Malek. “People seem to have a bone to pick with the presence of alcohol itself. But that was part of the narrative.”

ACTING OR DIRECTION?

At this stage in his career, the question becomes inevitable: where does his true creative allegiance lie — acting or direction? He replies without hesitation that direction is where it’s at for him.

“Acting is a beautiful, intimate experience, but it is ultimately about fulfilling someone else’s vision. Directing, while a selfless job, allows you to create an entire world from scratch. It gives me the power to address uncomfortable truths — such as the generational trauma in Noor Jahan or the suffocation of social pressure in Habs.

“There is a unique thrill in making an audience feel a specific emotion purely through a camera angle or a shared moment of silence. As a director, I’m not just playing a character, I’m steering the entire ship.”

A FEW FOND MEMORIES

In this journey, is there a professional memory that he holds particularly dear, I ask Malek.

“It has to be when the first teaser for Habs went viral,” he responds without hesitation. “Humayun Saeed wrote a very appreciative note about me on his Instagram — that was incredibly heart-warming. Similarly, after the second episode was aired, Nadeem Baig visited me to express his appreciation. He told me he always knew I was talented, but he hadn’t realised I would be that good!”

Another standout memory is from Malek’s time on film sets that perfectly captures the chaos or beauty of the job. It happened while filming JPNA 2 in Turkey. “We couldn’t find an actor for a minor role as a guard, so [the writer and actor] Vasay Chaudhry looked at me and said, ‘You’re doing it!’ And just like that, I found myself playing the part!”

On the growing trend of social media influencers entering the field of acting, I ask Malek if he considers them to be actors in the traditional sense, or if there is a fundamental difference in the craft.

“Honestly, I don’t. An influencer is the master of their drawing room, operating without checks or balances. Conversely, a professional actor undergoes endless auditions and technical scrutiny, with editors analysing every frame. If you want to be an actor, you must come prepared. Have your armour ready, your weapons intact, and learn how to use them in a proper institution like Napa or the NCA.”

THE ACTORS’ COLLECTIVE OF PAKISTAN

Given that Malek remains a vocal advocate for systemic industry reforms, I ask him which steps he believes are necessary to truly empower the artist community, especially with regards to the Actors’ Collective of Pakistan (Act).

In his opinion, to enhance its effectiveness, three major reforms need to be worked upon: first and foremost, ensuring payments are made on time, and secondly, a robust union system. “There should be a formal way for an actor, a director, or even an assistant director to question a production house. Without a union, you are often left without a voice.”

The third element, he believes, is an official government recognition of the profession. “These three things — timely paycheques, a union system, and legal status — should be our top priorities,” he summarises.

He adds: “We should look at the systems that Hollywood, the Turkish or even the Indian industry have in place. They have specific categories for junior actors, assistant directors, choreographers and dancers. These union systems are exactly what help you progress and keep things above board. We see it working in successful industries all over the world — it provides the structure needed to ensure that everyone is treated fairly.”

Regarding Pakistani content on global platforms such as Netflix, Malek says it’s all a numbers game. “Once we have a substantial volume of shares and a strong subscriber base coming from Pakistan, I believe Netflix will start to pivot toward us. It doesn’t just happen out of the blue, but I’m optimistic that the tide will turn soon,” he sounds off on an optimistic note.

As the conversation ends, I ask him what is next for him after the success of Habs, Noor Jahan and MZHT as a director. Malek responds by telling me that he is currently poring over several scripts, including the possibility of another film project, but nothing is set in stone as yet.

For the time being, we will just have to hope that something catches his discerning eye soon that can add substance to his already impressive portfolio — and our screens.

The writer is a freelance contributor with over two decades of experience in entertainment.

He can be reached at asifkhan.media@outlook.com

Published in Dawn, ICON, April 26th, 2026