I have a favourite quote that I very often visit. It explains that nothing in life is actually hard; it’s just unfamiliar to your brain.
I attended the 2024 Emirates Drift Championship. For the first time ever in my life – as a participant. To say it was a surreal experience would not be an understatement. The thrill and anxiety that came with the excitement of showcasing my passion for the world to be judged was not an easy weight to lift.
Nonetheless, we made it back home after a long, exhilarating event. But we shall begin this story from the very first day.
I packed my bags and boarded a plane to the UAE. Got my boys from NMK on board for track support. And secured my first international sponsorship with Castrol Edge.
Then came the practice day. Full pressure and more than that, adrenaline. The feeling of finally scratching the itch in my brain. The Castrol delegation was flying in from Europe. My Silvia sat wrapped in a beautiful white Castrol livery with a very prominent Pakistani flag on the car. All the enthusiasm had the boys and me out on track before anyone else. We toured the circuit once, then again, and maybe a few more times, until the layout got etched into our memories.
Then it was time for registrations, warm-ups, and finally pulling up on the track. I kicked off the session with easy mode, followed by a few tough runs of understanding the track. One thing I’ve learned throughout my time at the track: it always gets better. The more you train your brain to adapt, the better you become. The first run feels like the hardest nut to crack. The last is just a click.
Back-to-back runs, tire changes, increased seat time, and a whole lot of burning tires – I called it a day after being on track for three consecutive hours.
Then came the BIG day. The competition day. It was finally time to put all that I had been learning to the test. Castrol welcomed us on track as we started the morning. We moved straight into content production with the team, followed by one last practice session before the curtains rose.
The day flowed smoothly, qualifying rounds across categories, before closing out with me putting on a powerful show for Castrol.
Round 2 started with a BANG! I made it to the top 24. We pulled up with all the cars and did a parade. The crowd was loud and full of energy. Over 6000 people showed up.
And then Ahmed Daham pulled me aside.
After a solid performance at EDC, Daham organized a full day just to work on my driving. One session. One mentor. And an honest conversation about what I was doing wrong. That meant everything. My transition from drifting an LS in Pakistan to a JZ-powered boosted Silvia in the UAE is not just a swap of engines, it’s a complete rewiring of instincts. I was playing with Silvia the same way I play with my LS back home. Turns out, that doesn’t work. The boosted car demands respect. It demands a different language.
Daham broke it down for me. My line, my initiation, my feel for the car. He corrected where I was wrong and rebuilt it from the ground up. One session with him made all the difference, night and day. The only thing left to do now was to clock more seat time.
So we headed to Jebel Ali. Took a briefing, walked the layout, found the clipping points, and built a strategy. First run at 15psi, something felt off. Dropped it to 8psi and the car came alive. That was the sweet spot. The right amount of grip, the right response, exactly what I needed against the LS guys.
Practice runs were going well until I went a little too hard and kissed Nasser’s Silvia. Nothing major, both cars were fine to race, but a good reminder that hunger without patience can cost you. Lessons learned the hard way always stick the longest.
Then came qualifying. The first run was disappointing. Missed the clutch kick on initiation and lost the first zone. Frustrating, but not the end. The second run, I hit every zone and qualified. That’s the thing about competition; you adjust, you go again.
I kept progressing, round by round, until the Top 8, where things got messy. I was chasing the lead car straightened, and I saw my window. But just as I was about to capitalize, I got tapped from behind, and my car straightened. I let go because I thought I had clearly won the battle. The judges called for One More Time. And just like that, I was through to the Top 4.
Did I want it to go that way? No. But did I learn from it? Absolutely.
Round 4 in Abu Dhabi was next. Final round of EDC. We rolled into the venue, caught up with Zaviyar, and checked on the car. I even got a moment to see my old LS 370Z, now owned by Rohab, a Pakistani professional drifter based in Japan. We tandem’d together, which was a full-circle moment I didn’t expect.
But the car had other plans. Something felt off in one particular zone, whether it was the gear ratio or the diff setup, I couldn’t pin it down. Ordered a shorter ratio on the spot. Quick-release diff means I can swap setups between long and short depending on the track layout, and that flexibility is something I’m only just beginning to appreciate.
Mid-session, the car started overheating and shutting down automatically. Ziad jumped in to diagnose it. We sorted it – got back on track, and moved into qualifiers. I progressed into tandem battles and faced Nasser, a beast of a driver. Leading and chasing him taught me more about managing torque gaps and reading a car than any solo run ever could. Small mistakes in the chase run ended my campaign, but I left Abu Dhabi with something more valuable than a trophy.
I left with knowledge. With experience. With hunger.
The unfamiliar is only scary until your brain catches up. And mine is catching up fast.
