I was born amidst the bustling streets of Karachi a city that never sleeps, where dreams are as tall as skyscrapers. But my mother’s roots run deep in a small, quiet town near Mansehra, where the hills hold stories of forgotten girls! Girls like her who never held a schoolbook, only the heavy weight of silence.
My mother never went to school. In her village, the word “education” was a stranger, especially for girls. It was not just the lack of schools; it was the invisible chains of tradition, fear, and “what will people say?” that kept girls confined.
Today, things are slowly changing. Some girls in Mansehra attend school, but the path is steep and narrow. Most end their education at 8th or 10th grade. Many are forced into marriage before their hearts are ready before they’ve had a chance to dream.
I carry both worlds in my heart, the vibrant chaos of Karachi and the silent struggles of Mansehra’s hills. I know what it means to have a dream paused by circumstances beyond my control. After completing my 2nd year, family hardships made it impossible to continue my studies. But my desire to learn burns brighter than ever.
Now, I am learning new skills video editing and digital work from home. I am fighting quietly, but fiercely, to build a future for myself.
To every girl who feels trapped between tradition and dreams, I say: your story matters. Your right to education is not a privilege it is your birthright. It is the key to breaking chains of silence, poverty, and early marriage.
I speak not just for myself, but for my mother’s village, for every girl whose voice has been silenced too soon.
Let us rise together! one book, one lesson, one dream at a time.
Because every girl deserves to write her own story.
