Success Stories

"From a GIKI dropout to building something of my own." Every kid grows up dreaming of becoming something. I didn't. Or maybe I did I just never had the clarity to put it into words. All I knew was that I wanted something. Something bigger, something of my own. I just didn't know what it looked like. I got into GIKI which, for most people around me, was already a big achievement. It felt like I was on the "right path." But two years into my engineering degree, I knew something wasn't right. I would sit in lectures, surrounded by people who seemed certain about their future, while I felt completely disconnected. It wasn't that I couldn't do it I just didn't want to. And that realization was terrifying. Dropping out wasn't a bold decision at the time it felt like failure. The questions started immediately. From family, from relatives, from everyone: "What are you going to do now?" The truth was... I didn't know. Around that time, I used to visit a friend who was into freelancing mostly website development and small tech projects. Every time I went over, he'd show me something new he had built. One day, I asked him, "Can you teach me this?" That was the start. In the beginning, it was confusing. Lines of code that didn't make sense, errors I couldn't fix, and hours spent stuck on the smallest problems. But there was something different about it I didn't feel forced. I started enjoying the process. The independence. The creativity. The fact that I could build something and actually see it come to life. Slowly, without even realizing it, I started falling in love with tech. I took on small freelance projects the kind no one really talks about. Low payments, difficult clients, sometimes no payment at all. There were days I questioned everything again. I remember one particular month no projects, no income. Just me, my laptop, and constant doubt. That was my lowest point. But something in me didn't want to go back. Instead of quitting, I decided to take it seriously. I improved my skills, built a proper portfolio, reached out to clients instead of waiting for them, and started treating freelancing like a business not just survival. It didn't change overnight. But slowly, things shifted. One client turned into two. Two turned into referrals. Work became consistent. And for the first time, I felt like I was building something real. The turning point came when I had more work than I could handle alone. That's how it started. Today, I run a growing tech company, working with clients across different parts of the world. I didn't have a clear dream growing up. I didn't follow a straight path. But I kept going until something finally felt right. And sometimes, that's all it takes.

"From resisting expectations to designing a life of my own." Every child is told who they should become. A doctor. An engineer. Something "respectable." For me, it was always the same answer doctor. Not because I said it. Because everyone else did. Family gatherings felt like interviews. "What subjects are you taking?" "Pre-med, right?" "You'll make such a great doctor." And somewhere along the way, their voices became louder than my own. But the truth was... I never saw myself there. What I did see, though, was color. Layouts. Sketches in the margins of my notebooks. Redesigning posters, Instagram pages, random brands just for fun. I got into college on the pre-med track anyway. Because saying no felt harder than saying yes. The first few months were heavy. Not because the work was difficult but because it didn't feel like mine. I would sit in biology lectures while secretly watching design tutorials at night. Daytime: expectations. Nighttime: curiosity. One day, I came across a design project online a complete brand identity someone had built from scratch. And I remember thinking, "This is it. This is what I want to do." That realization didn't feel exciting at first. It felt terrifying. Because wanting something different meant disappointing people. When I finally told my family, the reaction was exactly what I expected. Confusion. Silence. Concern. "Design? What does that even mean?" "Why would you leave medicine for this?" "Is there even a future in it?" For a moment, I almost believed them. But this time... I didn't go back. I switched paths quietly. Started learning design properly not just as a hobby, but as a skill. The beginning wasn't glamorous. Free tools. Online tutorials. Copying designs just to understand how things worked. My first projects? Unpaid. Slowly, things started shifting. One client said yes. Then another. Then someone referred me to someone else. The turning point came when I was offered a full-time role as a junior designer. From there, everything accelerated. More experience. Better projects. Bigger clients. And eventually... leadership. Today, I lead a design team. This story was never about proving people wrong. It was about finally listening to myself.

"From being overlooked to creating moments no one forgets." I wasn't the "top student." Not the one teachers remembered. I was always just... there. Average grades. Quiet opinions. And over time, you start believing that about yourself. So I never really had a dream. No clear answer when people asked, "What do you want to become?" What I did have, though, was a strange habit. I noticed details. At family weddings, I wasn't focused on the stage. I was looking at the decor. The lighting. The movement. After college, pressure started building. "Apply somewhere." "Do something stable." So I took an admin role. It was fine. Not bad. Not great. Just... fine. The shift started small. A cousin's engagement. They needed help, so I coordinated vendors and fixed last-minute issues. That night, something felt different. I wasn't tired. I was alive. People noticed. "You handled that really well." "You should do this more often." I started helping at events on weekends. Assisting planners. Taking tiny projects. Long hours. Last-minute chaos. But even on hard days, I felt ownership. Slowly, I got my own clients. Birthdays. Engagements. Small gatherings. Every event taught me pressure management, client handling, and recovery when everything goes wrong. The turning point came with my first large wedding. It terrified me. But when everything flowed and came together, I stood there and thought: "I did this." Today, I run events that people remember. I was never the obvious choice. But I cared enough to do it right. And in the end, that was enough.

"From being told it's just a hobby to building something people trust with their biggest days." I was never taken seriously. "Makeup? That's just for fun." "It's not a career." But for me, it was never just makeup. It was the only thing I could do for hours without feeling tired. After college, I did what was expected. I applied for office jobs and ended up in a front desk role. From outside, it looked respectable. Inside, I felt disconnected. The shift came from a random opportunity. A friend's makeup artist cancelled before her engagement. Someone said, "Hira can do it." I was terrified. But I said yes. Bad lighting. Limited products. No backup plan. My hands were shaking. When she saw herself in the mirror, she smiled for real. That moment changed everything. I did not quit my job immediately. I started small. Weekend bookings. Low charges. Sometimes no charges. There were cancellations, comparisons, and doubt. But there were also referrals, gratitude, and trust. I invested in better products and proper learning. Skin types, tones, styles not just trends. The turning point came with my first proper bridal booking. Not through a favor. Because someone chose me. Today, this is what I do full-time. Weddings. Events. Clients who once felt out of reach. I did not have a perfect plan. Just something I cared about enough to keep going. And in the end, that made all the difference.