From Gujranwala
to Washington DC.

I started in a street school in Gujranwala. Elite Public School — that was what it was called. Small. Modest. Not the kind of school anyone associated with Oxford or Harvard. I was sensitive, emotional, observant. I could read rooms and people long before I could read law books.

I failed my first entry test for a better school. Later, at a prize ceremony, I came third — on the day my father was the chief guest. He was standing there as the chief guest, and I was third. It stayed with me.

And through all of this, I had a stammer. In a world that rewards smooth talkers, a stammer means every public moment costs you more than it costs everyone else. But I kept showing up. I always kept showing up.

I enrolled in the Bachelor of Laws program at the University of London. External program, studied in Pakistan. No campus, no hand-holding, no safety net. Just me, the books, and a commitment to prove something.

I graduated with Upper Second Class Honours — 2:1. Roll of Honors. Top 5 in my cohort out of hundreds of students across the world. That day taught me something I now tell every student: your starting point does not determine your finishing point. Your commitment does.

After graduating, I joined SR Law in Islamabad as an Associate under Saad Rasool — a Harvard Law School graduate and one of Pakistan's most respected Supreme Court lawyers. I learned what it meant to work at the highest level of the profession. I learned that excellence is not an accident — it is a decision repeated daily.

That education directly shapes how I help students write their Statements of Purpose today.

In 2025, I enrolled in the LLM program at George Washington University Law School in Washington DC — on a merit scholarship. Corporate Law, Mergers and Acquisitions. Research Assistant to three professors. Director Editorial of the Aziz Law Review — 20,000+ monthly readers.

Standing at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool in my graduation gown, the Washington Monument behind me, I thought about the street school in Gujranwala. About the failed entry test. About the stammer.

And I thought — every student I know from back home deserves to stand somewhere like this. They just need someone to show them the door.

Threshold Global exists because I know what it feels like to stand at that door — brilliant, ready, terrified — and not know how to open it. Not because you are not good enough. But because nobody told you how.

I am not a corporation. I am one person who crossed the threshold and who now walks alongside students until they cross theirs. Every name on the success wall is a real person. Every story is true. That is the only way I know how to do this.