Art and culture

Yasmeen Jisri, Building Bake My Day Without Losing Herself The Woman Behind Dubai’s Viral Cookie By Hafsa. Qadeer Dubai has a way of making everything look effortless from a distance. The city moves quickly, speaks loudly, and rewards those who can keep pace. Success here is often associated with scale, polish, and momentum. But behind the scenes, the most enduring stories are rarely built that way. They begin more quietly, in spaces that feel ordinary at first: a kitchen counter, a late-night craving, a decision made for no one else but yourself. Before Bake My Day became one of Dubai’s most talked-about dessert brands, before its cookies turned into a viral sensation across social media, Yasmeen Jisri was simply making something that felt true to her own taste. “It was a selfish project,” she says, almost with a smile in the sentence itself. “I was just doing something to satisfy my own cravings.” There is something refreshing about that kind of origin story. It does not try to sound strategic. It does not pretend that the brand was born out of market research or a grand business blueprint. It started with instinct, with desire, with a feeling that deserved to be made real. And in a city where people are constantly trying to build the next big thing, that kind of honesty can be more compelling than any polished pitch. Today, as the founder of Bake My Day and the force behind one of Dubai’s viral cookies, Yasmeen stands at the center of a brand that has grown well beyond its beginnings. Yet even as the spotlight has widened, she keeps returning to the same instinct that shaped it from the start: stay anchored. “Dubai constantly raises the bar,” she says. “Being here pushes you to grow alongside it, to want to rise to the same standard and refuse anything less than excellence.” That pressure can be energizing, but it can also be destabilizing. In a city that never seems to slow down, it is easy to lose sight of the thing that made you start in the first place. Yasmeen is clear about that tension. “With all that, I’ve learned the importance of staying anchored,” she says. “Coming back to my roots, my voice, and what I stand for.” What is striking is how unshowy that instinct is. There is no performance of wisdom here, no attempt to package groundedness as a branding exercise. It sounds like something she had to learn the hard way, through the mess of building something from scratch, through the pressure of being visible, and through the reality of becoming the face of a brand people now recognize instantly. That visibility came with vulnerability. When she first started Bake My Day from home, there was no distance between the product and the person creating it. Every tray, every batch, every reaction felt direct. Every piece of feedback landed immediately. “It was the fear of rejection,” she admits. “Because the brand is so personal. It felt like my baby being put out into the world and immediately judged.” That line tells you almost everything you need to know about the emotional cost of building something from scratch. A business is rarely just a business when it starts in your own kitchen. It carries your taste, your standards, your habits, your instinct, your sense of self. When people respond to it, they are responding to more than a product. They are responding to a piece of the person who made it. Back then, there were no layers to soften the experience. “It was a very direct customer-to-business relationship,” Yasmeen says. “Raw, immediate feedback. And that made it a lot more vulnerable.” That vulnerability, however, became part of the brand’s strength. Because what people were responding to was not just the cookie itself, but the feeling behind it. Bake My Day was never only about sweetness. It was about comfort. Familiarity. Memory. A certain kind of emotional ease. “100%,” Yasmeen says when asked whether the brand reflects something she personally needed. “It was very personal.” She pauses there, then continues with something that feels almost like a confession and a philosophy at once. “There’s real comfort in nostalgia for me,” she says, “in looking back and appreciating where things come from.” That sense of nostalgia sits at the heart of what Bake My Day has become. Cookies, in many ways, are easy to underestimate. They are often treated as simple, even childish. But Yasmeen saw something different in them. “I never liked the idea that they’re ‘just for kids,’” she says. “I wanted to break that.” What she built instead is something layered and emotionally legible: desserts that carry the softness of childhood while being reimagined for an adult audience. “I love childlike desserts and the comfort they bring,” she explains. “But I wanted to bring that into an adult space. For me, it’s about keeping that little kid in us alive.” That is perhaps the most compelling thing about Bake My Day. It is not trying to be clever. It is trying to be felt. It invites people toward something familiar without making it feel small. That emotional intelligence is part of why the brand has resonated so widely. The virality came later, but the emotional core was already there. Still, once a brand becomes visible, the story people tell about it changes. The public sees the orders, the social media posts, the queues, the buzz. They see the end result, not the strain behind it. Yasmeen is candid about the gap between the two. “From the outside, it can look glamorous,” she says. “But behind the scenes, it’s constant pressure.” The pressure never really leaves. It just changes shape. “Your head is split in a million directions,” she explains. “Yet you’re still showing up like everything is under control.” That sentence carries the fatigue of someone who has had to keep functioning while carrying more than most people realize. The emotional labor of entrepreneurship

Aparna Verma, Leading Education with Substance in an Age of Noise By Bill Brown In a region where education has become one of the most competitive and fast-moving sectors, clarity is increasingly hard to find. Parents are surrounded by claims of innovation, future readiness, and global excellence, yet many struggle to understand what truly matters for their child. Against this backdrop, Scholars International Group has taken a different approach, one shaped less by momentum and more by measured thinking, long experience, and a quiet confidence in fundamentals. For more than fifty years, Scholars International Group has been part of the UAE’s evolving education landscape. During that time, the country has transformed from a place with limited schooling options into a global hub offering a wide range of international curricula. Choice has expanded, information has multiplied, and expectations have risen. Yet, according to Aparna Verma, CEO of Scholars International Group, the essence of parental decision-making has remained remarkably consistent. Parents, she observes, have always been cautious when choosing a school. The difference today lies in the environment surrounding that choice. Families now navigate constant comparison, heightened competition, and a flood of information that often creates more anxiety than reassurance. In such a climate, schools carry a greater responsibility, not only to educate children, but to offer parents clarity, stability, and trust. Scholars International Group has responded to this reality by resisting the temptation to follow every new trend. Instead, it has focused on disciplined delivery: strong leadership, high-quality teaching, and consistency across its schools. For Aparna, leadership in education is not about visibility or volume of messaging. It is about sustained quality, delivered quietly and reliably over time. This philosophy shaped the launch of The Scholars School, SIG’s latest venture. Rather than beginning with assumptions about what families wanted, the group began by listening. A detailed Parent Insight Study was conducted to better understand how parents perceive education today and where they feel uncertain or unheard. The findings were telling. More than seventy-four percent of parents expressed a desire to be actively involved in their child’s education. Yet involvement did not mean control. Parents wanted understanding, reassurance, and visibility, not daily management of classroom decisions. Perhaps most importantly, they wanted to feel heard before being spoken to. This insight fundamentally shaped how SIG communicates with families. Instead of increasing the frequency of messaging, the group focused on structure and clarity. Clear routines, predictable rhythms of communication, and professional, open dialogue between teachers and parents became central. The aim was to build genuine partnerships, relationships in which parents feel confident and informed, and teachers feel trusted and supported. For Aparna, this balance is critical. Education works best when parents and teachers share responsibility without blurring roles. Trust grows when families understand how learning is delivered and why decisions are made, while teachers are given the space to apply their professional expertise. Consistency, in fact, has emerged as one of the most important markers of quality in the eyes of parents. Research conducted by SIG shows that families judge schools not only on academic outcomes, but on leadership stability and visible teaching quality. In response, Scholars International Group has built shared academic foundations across its schools, with common frameworks, clear expectations, and aligned teaching practices. The Scholars School is not treated as an isolated project. It is an extension of systems refined over decades. Professional development, academic oversight, and leadership presence are embedded across the group. These structures are not hidden; they are visible and accessible, allowing parents to see how quality is sustained in daily practice. Innovation, in this context, is approached carefully. In an era where educational trends emerge quickly and disappear just as fast, SIG has chosen to be guided by evidence rather than fashion. Parents, according to the group’s research, consistently express a preference for strong fundamentals over experimental approaches. This has shaped the way innovation is introduced, not as a headline, but as a tool to deepen learning.  The Scholars School follows a British curriculum, internationally recognised for its rigour and structure. This is enriched by research-based frameworks such as High-Performance Learning and informed by insights from cognitive science. Oversight from an experienced board ensures that research is applied thoughtfully, always with a clear link to student learning. At the centre of this approach are teachers. Aparna is clear that student outcomes and teacher development are inseparable. Parents may speak about results, but what they are really observing is teaching quality and consistency. For this reason, Scholars International Group invests heavily in ongoing professional development aligned with its shared pedagogy. Training is continuous and purposeful, directly connected to classroom practice. Teachers are supported not only to deliver content, but to grow within a shared vision of education. This support, Aparna notes, has a ripple effect. When teachers feel valued and confident, school culture strengthens, motivation rises, and students benefit. Equally important is the way SIG approaches student wellbeing. Academic rigour and emotional safety are not treated as competing priorities. Research conducted by the group shows that parents value structure, predictability, and emotional security, particularly in the early years. These elements create environments in which learning can thrive without anxiety. Classrooms across SIG schools are designed to be calm and structured. Clear routines help children feel secure, build confidence, and develop a sense of belonging. For Aparna, emotional well-being is not an additional programme; it is the foundation that allows academic rigour to be sustained. Operating in the UAE adds another layer of responsibility. The country’s diversity and forward-thinking vision require schools to create inclusive environments that respect cultural context while preparing students for global citizenship. SIG’s research shows that many parents think deeply about how their children develop identity in a highly international setting. The Scholars School delivers the British curriculum in a way that reflects the UAE’s social and cultural fabric, enriched by global best practices drawn from across the group. This emphasis on belonging, stability, and family values aligns naturally with the UAE’s Year of

Beyond Bricks to Bars, UAE’s Golden Legacy By Janhavi Gusani Gold has long been rooted in the UAE’s culture, woven into its traditions, trade, and family legacy, long before real estate reshaped skylines and before cryptocurrency entered investment conversations. While pearl diving formed the earliest backbone of the region’s economy, defining its wealth, silver and oil later transformed it,  yet gold has maintained a timeless appeal. Unlike these other commodities, which depended on harvests, markets, or extraction cycles, gold offered families a tangible and portable store of value,  one that could be passed down across generations without losing its significance. It has served as a silent keeper, valued both as adornment and inheritance,  an expression of wealth that travels effortlessly through time. Gold’s appeal lies not only in its financial value but also in the trust and confidence it inspires, making it a cornerstone of cultural and economic life. In the UAE, gold is more than a commodity; it is a living part of family life. It has served as an anchor, offering permanence and security amid economic fluctuations. Unlike modern investments, whose values can swing dramatically, gold has historically provided liquidity across generations. Its enduring presence reflects a rare combination of financial stability and emotional resonance. Long before skyscrapers defined the skyline, the UAE was a regional hub for gold trade, welcoming merchants from the Middle East, India, and beyond. Dubai Creek and the Deira Gold Souk were central to this legacy, providing transparent markets and strict purity standards that built trust across buyers and sellers. These historic trading centers continue to attract investors and collectors today, reinforcing gold’s central place in the UAE’s financial and cultural landscape. Dubai’s label, the “City of Gold,” is earned through decades of heritage, commerce, and global reputation. Beyond its cultural resonance, gold has remained a constant witness to generational change, evolving markets, and the UAE’s transformation into a global hub for technology and innovation. Today, in a world of digital investments,  from cryptocurrency and stocks to funds and real estate, the UAE honors traditional practices while embracing financial innovation. Gold remains the enduring, trusted source of security, while real estate and digital assets offer opportunities for growth, speed, and global connectivity. Real estate has become a defining symbol of the growing ambition of the UAE’s landmarks, making it a country of stable urban-vision and long-term growth. Iconic developments such as Dubai Marina, Downtown Dubai, and Abu Dhabi’s Saadiyat Island offer investors tangible assets and a sense of ownership in dynamic urban landscapes. Yet, unlike gold, property is cyclical and influenced by market conditions, regulatory shifts, and global economic trends. Alongside property, cryptocurrency, blockchain adoption, fintech hubs, and international trade shows demonstrate the UAE’s forward-looking embrace of technology. These modern assets appeal to a younger, global investor base seeking fast, borderless opportunities. While offering high returns and diversification, they remain speculative and volatile, lacking the generational trust and cultural grounding that gold has maintained for centuries. Together, real estate and digital assets illustrate the modern investment mindset: driven by growth, innovation, and global connectivity. They coexist with traditional assets like gold, offering opportunity without replacing heritage. In the UAE, modernity complements tradition, creating an investment ecosystem where culture, growth, and stability intersect. Gold’s influence now extends into luxury, lifestyle, and design. It shapes architecture, home interiors, furniture, streetscapes, culinary creations, and leisure experiences. The upcoming Gold Street in Dubai, inspired by opulent design and gilded aesthetics, will attract retailers, investors, and tourists alike, cementing Dubai as a premier hub for both commerce and culture. From gold-embellished villas and hotels to desserts topped with gold leaf and specialty coffees, gold bridges heritage and modern lifestyle, elevating everyday experiences into expressions of prestige. The UAE stands at the intersection of heritage and ambition, where centuries-old traditions coexist with some of the world’s most striking developments. Investment here reflects culture, identity, and vision, not just financial returns. Gold continues to anchor wealth while influencing architecture, interiors, and lifestyle, embodying prestige alongside stability. Real estate and digital assets showcase the nation’s innovative spirit and global connectivity, but it is gold that links the past, present, and future, providing a living emblem of trust, value, and elegance. In this city and country of gold, tradition and modernity do not compete; they complement one another, crafting a narrative of extraordinary cultural and economic significance, a uniquely UAE story of wealth, heritage, and progress.

Yasmina Sabbah, Orchestrating the Future of Middle Eastern Music By Bella Brown Music entered Yasmina Sabbah’s life before she ever learned to name it as a profession. As a child, she instinctively gathered her cousins each summer to stage homemade musicals, writing scripts, teaching songs, directing scenes, and proudly hanging posters around the house. What felt like play at the time was already a glimpse of her future. She did not choose music as a path so much as recognize it as something that had always been there. Those early moments grew into years of rigorous study and frequent performances, shaping a deep musical discipline from a young age. Concerts became a constant, and learning became immersive. Yet clarity arrived later, during her undergraduate years, when she was given the chance to conduct a children’s choir. Standing in front of those voices, guiding sound and emotion into harmony, something clicked. Conducting revealed itself not just as a skill, but as a purpose. That realization led her to pursue a master’s degree in conducting at the University of Cambridge, laying the groundwork for a career rooted in both excellence and responsibility. Leading orchestras as a woman in the Middle East has required more than technical mastery. The challenges, she notes, rarely announce themselves openly. While there is visible enthusiasm for female leadership, resistance often appears in subtler ways. Trust must be earned repeatedly, instructions are sometimes questioned more than they should be, and progress can feel slower despite equal qualifications. Rather than allowing this to harden her, Sabbah learned patience. She learned resilience. Above all, she learned to let the music speak. Excellence, she believes, has a way of dissolving doubt when words fail. Music, for Sabbah, has never existed in isolation. It is a bridge between cultures, histories, and identities. She speaks often of the Middle East’s strong sense of self, shaped by a rich heritage and an openness to the world. That blend informs everything she does. Her work celebrates identity without closing doors, drawing from many traditions while honoring their roots. Each performance becomes a meeting point, where differences do not compete but coexist. Teaching and mentorship sit at the heart of her mission. In a region where music is still sometimes dismissed as a hobby, she works to expand how it is perceived by students and parents alike. She creates projects, concerts, and opportunities even amid difficult circumstances, particularly during Lebanon’s recent years of instability. Her guidance goes beyond technique. She teaches resilience, adaptability, and the understanding that music can be both a livelihood and a lifelong calling. Her approach to programming reflects that same balance between structure and curiosity. She carefully curates diverse repertoires across seasons, allowing musicians and audiences to grow together. Rarely performed works sit alongside new commissions and original arrangements. Each project begins with a clear vision, followed by deep study and thoughtful rehearsal. Exploration is encouraged, reassessment is welcomed, and innovation is grounded in understanding. When working with fusion or world music, she takes time to study each style closely, believing authenticity is the foundation of creativity. Leading an ensemble, she believes, is as much about emotional awareness as it is about precision. Music cannot thrive in tension or fear. She fosters environments built on trust, positivity, and mutual respect. By understanding the energy of each group and adapting her leadership accordingly, she allows individual expression to strengthen the collective sound rather than compete with it. Preserving Arab musical heritage remains a central commitment. Sabbah is deeply invested in integrating traditional Arab elements into orchestral and choral settings without diluting their essence. She works closely with composers and arrangers to explore quarter tones, Arabic vocal techniques, and the dialogue between Eastern instruments and Western structures. Her current projects reflect a belief that heritage is not something to protect behind glass, but something to keep alive through evolution. Certain performances stand out as defining moments. Conducting the Lebanese Philharmonic and USJ Choir in Vaughan Williams’ Dona Nobis Pacem carried particular weight, unfolding against the backdrop of national uncertainty and collective endurance. Collaborating with the Firdaus Orchestra at Expo brought her into conversation with global artists and expanded her musical language. Her Symphonic Fusion concerts continue to push boundaries, while conducting the New Year’s Eve performance at the Burj Khalifa remains a powerful symbol of music’s ability to transcend physical and traditional limits. Looking forward, she sees immense promise in the region’s young musicians. Their ability to move fluidly between Western and Oriental repertoires positions them uniquely on the world stage. Yet talent alone is not enough. Institutions, she believes, play a vital role in providing support, platforms, and continuity, allowing this potential to fully unfold. Music is inseparable from her life. It has shaped her relationships, guided her through joy and difficulty, and given her a way to communicate beyond words. It is not simply what she does, but how she understands the world. Yasmina Sabbah’s legacy is still being written, not only in performances, but in the spaces she opens for others. Through mentorship, preservation, and fearless creativity, she continues to shape the future of Middle Eastern music. Each movement of her baton carries intention, linking past and present, identity and innovation. Her work stands as a reminder that music is not just sound, but memory, possibility, and shared humanity.

The Classic Traditional Sweet Present at Festivals Throughout the Emirates, Inside the Heart and Soul of the Luqaimat By Hafsa Qadeer The Classic Traditional Sweet Present at Festivals Throughout the Emirates, Inside the Heart and Soul of the LuqaimatIf you find yourself wandering through the labyrinthine alleyways of the Al Hosn Festival in Abu Dhabi, or navigating the vibrant, neon-lit stalls of Global Village in Dubai, your senses will inevitably be hijacked by a singular, intoxicating aroma. It is a fragrance that defies the arid desert air, a heavy, sweet perfume of toasted saffron, the sharp, medicinal warmth of green cardamom, and the deep, caramelized musk of date syrup. Follow that scent to its source, and you will find the true heartbeat of Emirati hospitality. There, usually presided over by a group of formidable women whose hands move with the rhythmic precision of a master percussionist, sits a wide, bubbling vat of oil. With a flick of the wrist, small spheres of dough are launched into the heat. They bob, they spin, and they transform from pale ivory to a majestic, burnished gold. This is the Luqaimat. To the uninitiated, it is merely a fried dough ball. To the Emirati, it is a vessel of history, a symbol of survival, and the undisputed king of the festival table. The Ancient Pedigree of a Desert Delight To truly understand Luqaimat is to understand the history of the Silk Road and the profound culinary cross-pollination of the Middle East. While we claim it today as a quintessential Emirati treasure, its DNA stretches back to the 13th-century Abbasid Caliphate. Known in classical Arabic as Luqmat al-Qadi, translated literally as “The Judge’s Morsel, it was said to be so delicious that a judge, upon tasting one, would find his mood instantly lightened, perhaps even influencing a favorable verdict in the courts of old Baghdad. As the recipe traveled along the trade routes, it found a permanent home in the coastal and desert settlements of the Trucial States. In the pre-union days, before the skyscrapers of Dubai pierced the clouds and the oil wealth transformed the landscape, sweetness was a luxury of the highest order. In the harsh environment of the desert or the demanding, salt-crusted life of a pearl diver, calories were more than just sustenance; they were precious energy. The Luqaimat represented a celebration of rare and imported ingredients. Flour, yeast, and oil were staples, but the addition of saffron, plucked from the crocus flowers of the Iranian plateau, and cardamom from the Malabar Coast of India spoke of a nation that sat at the crossroads of global maritime trade. Today, as the United Arab Emirates celebrates its status as a global hub of modernization, the Luqaimat remains an anchor. It is the culinary glue that binds the generation of the Bedouins, who remembers the silence of the dunes, to the generation of the digital age, who navigates the heights of the Burj Khalifa. A Masterclass in Manual Dexterity There is a specific, mesmerizing theater to the preparation of Luqaimat that no modern machinery or industrial assembly line can replicate. At any cultural festival, the Luqaimat station is the primary attraction, often drawing longer queues than the modern food trucks parked nearby. The women who man these stations are the keepers of the national flame. Watching them is a lesson in fluid dynamics and human dexterity. The batter is notoriously difficult to handle; it must be elastic enough to stretch but firm enough to hold a sphere. The cook dips her left hand into a bowl of water to prevent sticking, then grabs a fistful of the sticky, fermented dough. With a calibrated squeeze of her thumb and forefinger, she pops a perfect sphere into the shimmering oil. It happens in milliseconds, a rapid-fire performance of rhythmic movement that fills the fryer with dozens of identical spheres in under a minute. As they fry, they are constantly agitated with a long-handled slotted spoon. This constant movement is the secret to their architecture; it ensures the ball is cooked evenly on all sides, resulting in a shell that is thin and glass-crisp, while the interior remains a soft, yeasty honeycomb of air. This texture is the hallmark of a master. A Luqaimat that is too dense is a failure; one that is too oily is a tragedy. It must be a morsel in every sense, a light, ephemeral bite that disappears almost as soon as it hits the tongue, leaving behind only the lingering warmth of the spices. The Holy Trinity of Aromatics What separates the Emirati Luqaimat from its global cousins, the Greek Loukoumades, the Turkish Lokma, or even the Indian Gulab Jamun, is the unapologetic boldness of its finishing. While other cultures might use a clear honey syrup or a simple dusting of powdered sugar, the Emirati version is rooted in the “Tree of Life.” Once the golden balls are drained of excess oil, they are not merely drizzled; they are baptized in Dibs. This is a thick, viscous, and intensely dark syrup made from boiled-down dates. It is the black gold of the Emirati kitchen, tasting of dark chocolate, molasses, and sun-drenched fruit. Unlike honey, which sits on the surface, the warm Dibs seeps slightly into the fragile crust, creating a tacky, rich coating that demands the diner abandon all pretense of using forks. The date palm has provided for the people of this region for millennia, offering shade, building materials, and life-sustaining fruit. By using Dibs, the Luqaimat becomes an extension of the land itself. The final act is a generous shower of toasted white sesame seeds. They provide a nutty counterpoint to the deep sweetness of the dates and a tiny, architectural crunch that complements the snap of the dough. When served alongside Gahwa, the bitter, cardamom-infused Arabic coffee, the balance is perfect. The bitterness of the coffee cleanses the palate, making the next sweet bite feel as fresh as the first. The Pulse of the Festival The