Amir is a struggling actor, meddling with lowly, wordless terrorist roles. More importantly, he struggles with his parents not taking his career choice seriously. Amidst a chaotic party highlighted by politics, cricket, and community gossip, a revelation brings Amir a new challenge—just making it through the day.

Director’s Vision for ‘Mabrook’

“Mabrook” is an amalgamation of my childhood memories and artistic endeavors. I vividly recall attending various Eid parties in Atlanta with Pakistani people partitioned by gender. The men would sit in the living room and argue about Pakistani politics and cricket, while the women would engage in community gossip as they finished preparing the meal. Children, like myself, would volley between sections out of sheer boredom and the inability to sit still and behave.

Even upon entering college, there was no avoiding these gatherings because no matter the age, one always remains a child to their Pakistani parents. My age now forced me to sit with the men, listen, and sometimes engage. When I didn’t engage, I would be interrogated about my future goals and compared to other parents’ college-aged kids, who—lucky for them—were never there.

Most of my peers were attending medical school, coding for Google, or already working as business consultants. I, on the other hand, wanted to write and direct feature films—specifically about my Pakistani and Muslim experiences here in America. But I couldn’t tell these “uncles” that. Without any particular detail, I would say that I am getting an MFA. “Masters in Finance?” they would respond.

I suppose this is why “Mabrook” is such an important film for me. Not only does it address a story that is rarely told or seen with an ensemble cast of color, but it also sheds light on how difficult it is to become an artist, or better yet, make a living as one when you have grown up in a community that only seems to foster engineers and doctors.