1. Tell us a bit about yourself and what truly inspired you to be an architect?

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I come from a large and vibrant family with diverse interests and careers—I’m the youngest of nine children, born to two mothers. I spent a lot of time with my parents, observing their worlds and soaking up their distinct energies and values. I also spent a great deal of time on my own—reading, drawing, and engaging in imaginative play, which helped nurture a strong sense of curiosity and creativity from an early age.

I grew up in Malé at a time when the city was more livable and less congested. Houses had attached goathi, there were trees to climb, and open spaces to play. I had the relative freedom to explore, to indulge in self-discovery, and to simply be who I was. Creative people surrounded me—within my family, among friends, and in the wider community. The school environment was also much less stressful than it is today, with plenty of opportunities to be expressive and inventive. Art was well taught, and we were encouraged to take part in a wide range of extracurricular activities—we wrote plays, debated, published magazines, choreographed dances, designed costumes, and brought our imaginations to life in multiple ways.

My mother is an incredibly creative and resourceful woman. She made beautiful embroidered dresses, participated in National Handicraft Exhibitions, and brought artistry into everything she did. I grew up by her side, helping cut threads, trace embroidery patterns, and attach biases for the baby clothes she designed and made. We also come from a family of passionate cooks who secretly competed with each other, so creativity was infused into every corner of daily life.

My father, a civil servant, was disciplined, meticulous, and full of life and adventure. He was a pioneer in many ways and a bit of a renaissance man. He often supervised construction sites, especially during a time when trained professionals were rare. Later, when architects and engineers began working in the country, he would excitedly tell me how much things had evolved.

Our holidays were spent travelling to islands, exploring, sailing, harvesting chilies, fishing, planting coconut trees on uninhabited islands—always close to nature. When my siblings had grown up and moved on, as a teenager, I had the rare privilege of accompanying my father on his official trips across the country to inspect schools and hospitals. Those journeys gave me a unique window into different communities and the vital role that thoughtful design and well-planned spaces play in people’s lives. It also opened my eyes to the disparities that existed between Male’ and the atolls.

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So, in many ways, becoming an architect felt like a natural path—shaped by creativity, enriched by encounters, and inspired by the everyday beauty and ingenuity I was fortunate to grow up surrounded by.

2. How would you describe your personal design philosophy, and how has it evolved throughout your career?

I’ve never defined a strict design philosophy — I’m intuitive by nature, and I let each project’s process and program lead the way, a process driven by dialogue, research, and responsiveness. Architecture, for me, sits at the intersection of art and science — it’s about aesthetics, proportionality, and materiality, but also people; their behaviors and emotions.

My work is shaped by a lot of thinking and constant sketching simultaneously. I’m drawn to clean lines, natural materials, natural light, and spatial clarity — and I am fascinated by how things connect, the beauty of details.  But every idea must also ultimately meet the realities of function, budget, and context. Working in the Maldives, I’ve learned to design within constraints: where cost, climate, limitations in material availability, and geography demand creativity and care.

Over time, my practice has expanded beyond architecture — from buildings to systems, from isolated forms to frameworks, to connected communities. I now see myself as both an island planner and an urban researcher. I engage with the vulnerabilities and potential of small islands, and I explore how cities and settlements can evolve toward justice and resilience.

Becoming a mother has deepened my perspective. Design, for me, is now an act of long-term care — a way to build futures that are not just livable, but joyful, just, and lasting.

My design philosophy is rooted in intuition, shaped by research, and refined through constraint.

3. With over two decades of experience in the field, how have you seen the integration of sustainability evolve in Maldivian architecture?

The integration of sustainability into Maldivian architecture has come a long way, shaped by both local climate challenges and global sustainability movements. Interestingly, if we look back, traditional Maldivian architecture was already inherently sustainable by design. Homes and public spaces were built using locally available materials, with natural ventilation, daylight, and orientation carefully considered. These structures were also community-built, reflecting a deeply rooted culture of shared responsibility and environmental harmony.

However, the landscape began to shift with rapid urbanization, population growth, and a booming construction industry. Many of the traditional materials and passive techniques were seen as inadequate or outdated in the face of modern infrastructure demands. Unfortunately, this shift also meant moving away from some of the sustainable practices that once defined Maldivian architecture.

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Today, there is a renewed effort—especially within the tourism sector—to embrace sustainability. Resorts and hotels are increasingly incorporating eco-friendly systems like renewable energy, rainwater harvesting, water recycling, and the use of low-impact materials. There’s growing awareness of the need to reduce ecological footprints. However, it is always a challenge to strike the right balance between luxury and sustainability, particularly in a tourism-dependent economy where high-end aesthetics are expected.

On the policy front, we’ve seen improvements. Government regulations and frameworks promoting sustainability have strengthened, thanks in part to support from international development partners. That said, enforcement remains a weak spot—building codes and compliance systems haven’t kept pace with the urgency of the climate crisis. Education is another key area of progress: sustainability principles are gradually being embedded in architecture courses, and there’s more dialogue around green building certifications, both in academic and professional circles.

Despite these strides, contradictions persist. Large-scale land reclamation projects, for instance, continue to rise—even though they go against core principles of sustainability and long-term environmental resilience.

In my work, I’ve had the opportunity to contribute to national efforts, including developing The Resilient Housing Guidance for the Maldives and creating a Roadmap for Green Building Certification. These projects aim to provide practical, locally grounded solutions to help steer the construction and housing sectors toward a more sustainable future.

4. In your experience, what are some of the challenges architects face when implementing sustainable designs across islands in the Maldives, and how can it be addressed?

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We recently conducted a study on green and climate-resilient housing in the Greater Malé Region to assess awareness, challenges, and opportunities. Key barriers include high costs, limited space, lack of green materials, and low industry awareness. Stakeholders stressed the need for stronger government policies, incentives, and leadership through sustainable public projects. Financial tools—like subsidies, tax breaks, and green financing—are crucial to making eco-friendly construction more accessible. Public education, professional training, and stronger industry associations are also essential. Architects emphasized holistic design, fair compensation, and continued involvement during construction to ensure better, more sustainable buildings across the region. We need continued and meaningful stakeholder engagement to address the challenges.

5. In your opinion, how can architects and designers influence policy-making to promote sustainable and resilient infrastructure in the Maldives?

Architects have a vital role to play in shaping policy by engaging in research, advocacy, and sustained dialogue with both policymakers and the public, as well as amongst themselves. Their active involvement can help promote the development of sustainable and resilient infrastructure across the Maldives.

To support this role, it is essential to enhance awareness and knowledge within the architectural community itself. Equally important is the need to strengthen the Architects’ Association Maldives (AAM), enabling it to become a more active and effective platform. This can be achieved by fostering collaborations with other professional associations and institutions, both locally and regionally.  Maldivian architects must be willing to take hold of the unique opportunities available to push the boundaries, and in climate-resilient design.

At the same time, regulatory bodies must also step up their engagement with professionals. By reinforcing regulatory systems and offering meaningful incentives, they can encourage the adoption of sustainability practices in design and construction. A coordinated effort between architects, professional organizations, and regulatory authorities is key to advancing a more sustainable built environment in the Maldives.

6. Can you share one project that significantly shaped your philosophy as an architect?

If I had to name one project that profoundly shaped my philosophy as an architect, it would be the Hulhumalé Mosque—officially Masjid al-Sheikh Qasim Bin Muhammad Al-Thany. It was the first community mosque to be built in Hulhumalé, the first planned city of the Maldives. At the time, the island was little more than a concept. The land was reclaimed, but the community hadn’t yet arrived. The city existed more as a vision than in a tangible form, and there was a powerful sense of anticipation in the air.

The initial design began as a simple hand-drawn sketch—an intuitive response to an extraordinary challenge. When it was approved, I realized the path from concept to construction would require far more than creativity. It demanded endurance, adaptability, and a deep sensitivity to context.

What made the project so pivotal for me was how it navigated the space between tradition and innovation. While its architectural language was distinctly contemporary—even unconventional—it was grounded in the enduring values of traditional Maldivian mosques. At a time when large, monumental mosques were becoming the norm, I wanted to return to something more intimate. The small-scale community mosques of the past had a quiet power—they created a sense of belonging, of shared identity. That was the spirit I wanted to bring to this entirely new settlement.

The design responded directly to both the plot and the broader context of a city in its infancy. Instead of forcing a rectangular plan—often awkwardly rotated to face the Qibla—I envisioned a radial form. This approach not only resolved spatial tensions but also emphasized the central role of the mosque, both physically and symbolically, within the community.

Every element was selected to reflect the layered identity of the space: polished granite arches for a sense of permanence, a lightweight geodesic dome as a nod to modernity, concave concrete walls for a quiet sculptural presence, and carefully designed lattices and calligraphy that filter light to evoke serenity and sanctity. The contrast between these materials—subtle concrete nuances against the boldness of steel—created an atmosphere of balance and quiet drama.

Designing Hulhumalé Mosque taught me that architecture is not merely about aesthetics or even function. It’s about anchoring people—emotionally, spiritually, and culturally—in a place. Especially when that place is new, uncertain, and full of promise. The project, at least for me, became more than a structure; it became a vessel for identity, memory, and the future. That experience continues to shape every project I take on.

7. What advice would you give to young women aspiring to enter the field in the Maldives?

When young people approach me for career advice, I always start with one essential principle: always pursue what gives you joy. Take the time to explore your interests and understand where your natural strengths lie; what excites you, what you are curious about, and what you believe you can excel in. Discovering this for oneself is the foundation of a fulfilling career.

For those considering a career in architecture, regardless of gender, nurture your creativity. Stay open to learning and experimenting. Architecture is far from a linear profession; it offers a wide array of paths. Not limited to buildings, it can lead you to a wide range of specialisations. There are countless opportunities to carve out your niche, both within the built environment fields and something unique beyond the boundaries of architecture, such as innovative materials, animation, or game design.

To young women especially: be prepared for a challenging yet deeply rewarding journey. Architecture can be demanding, often requiring long hours, intense dedication, and time spent on construction sites. Balancing a professional career with personal or family commitments isn’t always easy, but it is possible—with resilience, support, and a clear sense of purpose.