So — what's your deal?

I'm Hussain. I'm twenty-two, I write software, and I write ghazals, and I have stopped apologising for the fact that those are the same activity performed at different temperatures. Both are attempts to make something precise enough to hold feeling. The compiler is just a stricter editor than the ear.

I grew up between Karachi and London, which means I grew up bilingual in more than language — two ideas of home, two volumes of traffic, two ways of making tea that each side considers non-negotiable. My phone wallpaper is Nastaliq script over mountains. My browser tabs are Next.js documentation. Neither of these is ironic.

The code: I build for the web — an education platform that taught me more than it taught its students, a headless storefront for a toy shop, this site. I like TypeScript because it argues back and React because it doesn't pretend the world is simple. I am currently looking for a team that builds things it is proud of; if that's you, the door is right here.

Even if this garden of dreams keeps burning — from ashes too, a new revolution is born.

The rest of me, in no particular order, because there is no particular order: Berserk taught me that you keep walking through the fire, and Vagabond taught me the fire is mostly in your own head. Iqbal and Camus are, in my personal library, shelved together — one asks you to be infinite, the other asks you to imagine Sisyphus happy, and on a good day I can do both before lunch. My faith is mine; I earned it the slow way, by asking every question I was told not to ask and finding the answers held.

And Barça. I need you to understand this is not about football. A club that insists on playing beautifully when winning ugly would be easier — that presses from the front at 3-1 down because the idea matters more than the scoreline — that is a philosophy with a stadium attached. I write ghazals instead of grinding LeetCode for the same reason Barça plays out from the back. It might not be optimal. It is, however, the point.