Each day, Komal Salman dives into decades-old posters, handwritten letters, and fragments of oral history, piecing together stories that might otherwise be lost. Her digital ventures — Folkloristan and its sister project, Ajaibghar — are more than archives; they’re portals into Pakistan’s cultural soul, capturing folklore, design, and traditions in a way that feels both personal and profoundly national.
For Komal, a a freelance graphic and branding designer, fascination with folklore began early. “My Nano used to tell me stories. I had a big book of magical nursery rhymes which my family got me the year I started school. I loved that book; I have loved stories with a sprinkle of enchantment since then. When I grew up a little, I read The Faraway Tree, and Narnia, becoming absolutely obsessed with them. I think the final decision to work on folklore was more of a one-final-nudge situation. ” This early love of narrative merged naturally with her academic background in media design. “Folklore felt like my multiverse of madness, it overlapped with my skillset and my love for history,” she explains.
Founded in November 2021, Folkloristan began as a research project and quickly expanded. The platform now documents stories weekly, preserving oral histories that might otherwise vanish. “The rates of urbanisation and the loss of language are huge concerns,” Komal notes. “Add low literacy rates and little national effort towards conservation, and you have a disaster of sorts on your hands.”
In 2023, her work reached a global audience when Folkloristan’s visual archive of Pakistani folklore was exhibited at the Centre of Folklore, Myth and Magic in the UK, displaying 100 pieces that traced the country’s rich cultural heritage. Komal has also spoken about storytelling at events like the Digital Festival of Islamic Arts and Culture, +92 Disrupt Islamabad, and the Asian Study Group, sharing insights on the urgency of preserving these narratives.
Her design background informs not only how these stories are presented but also how they are visualised. “Illustration was incredibly helpful because assets related to Pakistan are difficult to find,” she says. Ajaibghar, her “museum of curiosities,” was born from the need for a local archive: “If no one else is doing it, let me handle it,” she explains. The platform curates logos, banknotes, signage, packaging, posters, and more — printed media that serves as a window into Pakistan’s past.
Graphic design history offers Komal clues about societal norms, humour, and creativity. “You can find influences of art movements, or the advent of new technology, or even general attributes like socio-cultural norms,” she says, noting that every visual artifact carries encoded history for those who know how to read it.
Beyond the historical, Komal’s research is peppered with the whimsical and uncanny. “There used to be so many beliefs about colour that they influenced wardrobes,” she recalls. “Some tales incorporated supernatural elements — either hilarious, like Panja Khan, or imagining that animals could talk.” These stories, she says, reveal the imaginative breadth of Pakistan’s oral traditions.
Her projects extend beyond digital curation. Ajaibghar is also a creative atelier, offering prints, stickers, and home decor. Its ‘Design Dispatch’ subscription delivers archival postcards, prints, and curated surprises to readers, connecting past and present. “I genuinely enjoy writing and curating,” she says, describing projects inspired by festivals or historical themes. Other ongoing work includes Zeenatnama, a visual diary documenting traditional attire and jewellery from across Pakistan, and a deck of playing cards inspired by Muslim empires.
Komal sees her work as bridging generations. “When I started the page, people asked what folklore was and why I was working on it. Now students reach out, telling me about their final year projects — the future is in good hands,” she says. In a digital age where culture can easily be commodified or forgotten, her platforms encourage curiosity and critical engagement.
Outside of her work, Komal’s interests are eclectic, ranging from C-dramas to figure skating. “I taught myself how to skate on my terrace, and I genuinely felt invincible,” she recalls, recalling the memory of pink and lilac plastic rollerblades. “Girlhood is a spectrum of rabbit holes,” she adds, referencing the many passions and obsessions that fuel her creativity.
For the near future, Komal imagines a physical extension of her digital archives. “A space which functions as a library, or an archive, as well as a studio and/or stationary store has always been the goal. But let’s see where the current carries us. Will there be a long-run? I try not to think about it. It feels rather dystopian to be building a life, knowing fully well it will be destroyed. I think most of us are painfully aware of where we’re headed in terms of global unrest, and are still trying to build something. I wish it would have been different.”
Yet, while the world feels unstable, she remains committed to creating and preserving.
At its heart, Komal’s work is about inspiring curiosity. “I believe that we, as individuals, are a summary of the lives we touch. I certainly hope to inspire people to be curious about history, culture, folklore, local artistic traditions, and everything in between. As long as my work is pushing people to ask questions, and to think, I see it as a win.” In the stories she archives, visualises, and shares, one can trace the contours of a Pakistan both historical and contemporary…a living, breathing record of identity being rediscovered and reimagined by the younger generation.