o interview Asim Abbasi, the man of the moment who has written and directed Barzakh, I was given access to the second episode before it aired. I watched the first two episodes multiple times.

Speaking to Mr. Asim Abbasi was a delightful experience. Here was a director who knew his script, the underlying theme of the series, and the story behind each character —whether it was shown or not —without any fuss or self-aggrandizement. Common to his works, including Barzakh, is a certain aesthetic that is his and his alone. Original, almost like a gut-punch and never futile.

He makes you think. He subconsciously tells stories that make us confront what we hide from and what we pretend doesn’t exist, as individuals and as a society that is evolving and one that needs such cultural mores to progress. In a conversation after the first few episodes aired, Asim Abbasi spoke to Instep (over Zoom) about how the idea for Barzakh came to him during the pandemic, being a writer and a director, transitioning from the safety of an economic financial job to the unknown universe of storytelling. During over conversation, he talked about Barzakh, his new limited series, and why he didn’t release all the episodes together.

Two episodes in, it’s palpable that this is a profound, heartbreaking, and artful series, dealing with intergenerational trauma, grief and loss, supernatural elements and love, beautifully shot with a terrific ensemble cast. One can only wish that there were more episodes or even another season. But, Asim Abbasi knows how to tell stories and dragging them out, is not something he will do.

Instep: I watched the first two episodes multiple times. I was very surprised by the characters of Saifullah (Fawad M. Khan) and Shehryar (Fawad Khan) who are brothers. Salman Shahid (Jafar Khanzada/Aaqa), is their father but there is a strange, toxic relationship between the father and the sons. What resonated immediately was the underlying theme of family, something you’ve also explored in Cake as well. As a writer and director, what drew you to explore family dynamics within the context of Barzakh?

Asim Abbasi: It’s hard to say definitively, but I find myself drawn to stories about families. Perhaps it stems from my own upbringing. I have a wonderful relationship with my parents and siblings, especially considering I’m the youngest after four sisters, and they had me quite late in life. Looking back, I realize that a significant part of my life, particularly in my younger years, was colored by a fear of losing them too soon. Thankfully, they’ve lived long lives - my father passed away in his early ‘90s and my mother is in her mid-‘80s.

However, that fear of loss has always been present, shaping me as a person. It’s a theme that resonates deeply, even if I don’t explore it directly in my work. Neither Cake nor Barzakh are autobiographical, but the idea of loss within families keeps drawing me back.

Instep: Similar to Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar or Inception, where the heart of the story is family dynamics, not the scientific notions. Barzakh subverts exp-ectations of a traditional Fawad-Sanam romance. The narrative throws surprises with unexpected characters like Salman Shahid. Did you craft detailed backstories for each character, even if we don’t see all of them on screen to guide the narrative and direction?

Asim Abbasi: Absolutely! In Barzakh, every character, especially the main cast, has a rich backstory. While not everything makes it to the screen, these backstories were crucial. Each episode uses flashbacks to offer glimpses into a specific character’s life: episode two focuses on Saifullah, episode three on Scheherezade (Sanam Saeed’s character), and so on. These glimpses help build the characters and the narrative.

Now that viewers have seen the show, we can delve deeper into the characters and story.

Yes, Fawad and Sanam are phenomenal actors, and I’m grateful for their involvement. But in Barzakh, they’re part of a larger ensemble. They’re important pieces of a puzzle.

Instep: A headline caught my eye, but I held off on reading it because I wanted to watch the series or a few episodes before even asking the question. It said you were apprehensive about casting Fawad Khan, the movie star?

Asim Abbasi: I mentioned some apprehension earlier, but it wasn’t about Fawad Khan’s talent or dedication. It was more about my initial worry when approaching him for the project. Being a superstar with his own major projects, I was concerned he might be hesitant to join a series like Barzakh where the focus is on the ensemble cast. Perhaps he might think, “Is this just another project where I’m just one component?”

Thankfully, those concerns were completely unfounded! Fawad Khan’s response was refreshing and spot on, “No, I’m an actor and I want to do a great part and be part of a great show. Why wouldn’t I do this?” His answer wasn’t a surprise in hindsight – the entire cast truly understood the power of collaboration.

Fawad’s casting came later. I was initially apprehensive about whether he would be interested, but he was, so it was a perfect fit. Sometimes, things just fall into place when a team is truly invested. His portrayal of Shehryar is exceptional. From the first episode, you see the pain and mischief swirling within him – a prankster burdened by grief of his wife’s loss. 

The filming process itself became a testament to this collaborative spirit. Despite the harsh conditions and cold weather, everyone on set supported each other. Actors like Fawad Khan, Sanam Saeed, Fawad M. Khan, and Salman Shahid were always there for their fellow cast members, junior artists, and even child actors, readily helping them with lines or offering encouragement. I think that’s really important and that’s what made this into a sort of family off-screen as well.

Instep: The title of your series, Barzakh, is undeniably intriguing. It carries the weight of a familiar concept – purgatory – but the show seems to suggest a more nuanced meaning. Could you elaborate on how you’ve adapted this concept for your story?

Asim Abbasi: Absolutely. The word Barzakh has several layers in our narrative. On a literal level, it translates to ‘veil’ or a space existing between two distinct realities. This reflects the physical setting: a village nestled between the known world and the unseen world, hinted at by the mysterious mountain range. As the story progresses, we’ll delve deeper into what lies beyond those peaks. However, the concept goes beyond the physical. Barzakh also signifies a state of transition. Many characters in the show are emotionally stuck, unable to let go of the past and embrace the present. They’re all navigating their own ‘in-between’ spaces, yearning for a way forward. For example, the road to ‘Mahtab Mahal’ is referred to as the ‘land of nowhere.’ The villagers see it as a place built upon a graveyard, a chilling association.

Both the inhabitants of ‘Mahtab Mahal’ and the villagers in the normal world, long for a connection with the departed, a yearning for a reunion that transcends the boundaries of the known world. These are the subtle threads that weave together the concept of Barzakh in our series. The choice of the title, though potentially unfamiliar to some, felt essential. It captures the essence of the story – a world veiled by secrets, characters caught in an emotional purgatory, and a yearning to cross the boundaries of the known.

Instep: There’s a definite sense of mystery building throughout Barzakh. As a viewer, I found myself captivated but unsure of where the story was headed. Even after multiple viewings, the narrative remains deliberately ambiguous, drawing me in deeper with each rewatch.

This calculated quotient of suspense feels deliberate. You find answers, compelling viewers to piece together the puzzle for themselves. Was the element of suspense by design or is it just my take?

Asim Abbasi: You’re absolutely right about the element of suspense in Barzakh. Each episode functions like a puzzle piece, slowly revealing a larger picture. By the end of episode one, viewers with a keen eye might catch the connection between the tree in the 1960s flashback and the present-day graveyard.

This subtle detail hints at the dramatic transformation of the land, a transformation that becomes a central point of contention.

Jafar’s return to the land, now a graveyard with twelve graves, including Mahtab’s, throws another layer of mystery onto the narrative. The audience wonders: is Mahtab truly buried there, or is there a deeper story at play? Jafar’s subsequent actions, fuel further speculation. Is it simply a coincidence, or is there a connection to Mahtab’s fate? These are the questions that propel viewers forward, eager to see the next puzzle piece revealed.

The villagers’ resentment towards Jafar creates another layer of intrigue. They view the land as a resting place for their ancestors, desecrated by its transformation into a tourist spot. Jafar’s motivations for taking control and keeping the ‘men’ under his control remain shrouded in secrecy, with hints sprinkled throughout the narrative, like his cryptic remark in episode one.

The presence of characters who have passed away adds a touch of the supernatural to the story. Their lingering influence hints at a world beyond the physical, another layer waiting to be explored as the series progresses.

Instep: Why didn’t you release Barzakh as six-episode limited series all at once?

Asim Abbasi: The episodic release format is a deliberate choice. While some viewers may crave the immediate gratification of binge-watching, I wanted a more active audience experience. I want viewers to savor the series, to analyze and discuss each episode, forming their own theories as the story unfolds. The audience theories I’ve received are a testament to this approach; viewers are actively invested in the mystery, not simply passive observers.

Instep: So, were the supernatural elements a deliberate way to explore loss, or did you want viewers to pick up on these elements themselves?

Asim Abbasi: I think it had several aspects to it. It was important to me because I wanted to explore loss in a very visceral way. To achieve that, I needed to offer clues about what the other side might feel like. I used my imagination since no one has ever had a ghost visit, at least not in the way we portray them. Giving them a certain attire, look, and creating various pockets of supernatural, otherworldly beings throughout the show was crucial to delivering on the thematic promise.

Like, why are all the ghosts pink, or why do they have white nails? That’s open to interpretation. Those were stylistic choices I made for a reason, but not something we necessarily talked about all the time.

I like that feeling of ambiguity, that ‘trying to figure it out’ stage. It goes back to wanting the audience to be active participants, to come up with their own theories.

So, thematically, exploring Barzakh as a state of limbo and a way to access grief needed the supernatural elements. However, the specifics of the supernatural world were intentionally left open.

Instep: With Barzakh, you have a sprawling cast, not just a few central figures. It definitely wasn’t a light undertaking! Finding the right actors was crucial – a weak casting choice could make or break the entire project. So, how did you approach the casting process, given its importance?

Asim Abbasi: Casting for Barzakh wasn’t a one-man show. We had a dream team including myself, Saiban Khaliq, our fantastic casting director, Ariaana Khan and Zoobia Anwar, my longtime assistant directors. My producer, Waqas Hassan, thought of Fawad Khan.

Together, we scoured television, combed through actor profiles, and even stalked Instagram, constantly on the lookout for potential talent. A healthy dose of instinct played a part too. One look at a picture of Khushhal Khan, and I knew, “Yep, that’s my young Jafar.”

Anika’s role as Mahtab was particularly crucial, demanding an actress who could truly embody the character. We saw countless contenders, but it just wasn’t clicking. Then, a memory sparked.

Anika, a Canadian actress, had messaged me after seeing Cake. Recalling her face, I reached out and Mahtab was found, all the way from Canada!

Some decisions were driven by instinct. Having worked with Fawad M. Khan, a talented NAPA theater actor, in a very different role for Churails, I knew his range was perfect for Saifullah. Similarly, Sanam was another such choice. She embodies that rare blend of strength and vulnerability I needed – someone who could be gentle yet possess an unyielding core.

Fawad’s casting came later. I was initially apprehensive about whether he would be interested, but he was, so it was a perfect fit. Sometimes, things just fall into place when a team is truly invested. His portrayal of Shehryar is exceptional. From the first episode, you see the pain and mischief swirling within him – a prankster burdened by grief of his wife’s loss.

And then there’s Salman Sahab, a legend in our industry. Few actors of his age can deliver the power he brings. He was phenomenal, even in physically demanding scenes, insisting on doing everything himself. His dedication on becoming the character was truly inspiring. This role will undoubtedly be a crowning achievement in his already stellar career, perhaps the finest one to date.

Instep: Your work, both in Churails and now Barzakh, stands out for its distinct style, pushing the boundaries of what Pakistani audiences are accustomed to. This begs the question: when did you discover your calling as a director? Was it a well-trodden path you always envisioned, or did it happen almost accidentally?

Asim Abbasi: Oh, it wasn’t accidental at all. Writing, in some form, has always been a part of me. Even as a child, the passion burned brightly. My mother recently unearthed a relic from that time – an audio cassette of a radio play I directed at the age of eight! Gathering my cousins and guiding them through the performance, that was a taste of what was to come.

However, the path to directing wasn’t a straight line. Economics beckoned, and I found myself in the world of finance, working in banking for over a decade. The stability and financial security were undeniably attractive, but the artistic yearning remained, a persistent undercurrent. I tried to silence it, convinced myself I was too old to start anew, that the arts were a financially perilous path. But the calling was undeniable.

A truly impactful film, show, or script triggered a visceral reaction – this was what I yearned to create. It’s funny, isn’t it? People often talk about finding their purpose in their twenties.

For me, it was the opposite – my forties brought a clarity I never possessed before. To look back and imagine having this understanding in my twenties and thirties.

Thankfully, with time and the support of loved ones, particularly a partner (my wife) who championed my passion, I finally took the leap. My mother, initially hesitant, eventually joined the chorus of encouragement. Entering the field later in life, with financial security as a safety net, allowed me a privilege – the power of selection. I could say no to projects that didn’t resonate, focusing solely on stories I felt compelled to tell.

Instep: Both Churails and Barzakh bravely explores themes that aren’t common-place in Pakistan. It almost seems like you’re drawn to narratives that challenge norms, spark conversation, and confront us to talk about things we don’t. Was that always a goal?

Asim Abbasi: There wasn’t a conscious decision to be confrontational; it stemmed more from a desire for honesty and authenticity. Having embarked on this directing path later in life, the stakes felt incredibly personal. I wanted the stories I told to be meaningful.

Life, to me, is an intricate tapestry woven with threads of pain. But within that pain lies a profound beauty. Without it, the moments of joy and happiness wouldn’t hold the same weight.

We navigate a complex terrain of emotional, mental, psychological, and physical challenges throughout our lives. And often, as we reach the end, we yearn for another chance, a testament to the beauty we’ve discovered amidst the hardship, the realization that this world, for all its flaws, holds pockets of goodness.

It’s this exploration of pain that leads us to hope, that shows the enduring power of love and the preciousness of existence. This is a theme that consistently finds its way into my stories, a recurring thread that binds them together.