From PKR 300 to a PKR 10 Million Freelance Empire: How ‘Just Stay Home’ Became ‘Teach Us Too’

From PKR 300 to a PKR 10 Million Freelance Empire: How ‘Just Stay Home’ Became ‘Teach Us Too 

I still remember the exact moment that changed my life.

Not the kind you expect—the dramatic winning of a lottery or getting discovered by a talent scout. Mine was quieter. It was a simple Facebook post.

“If you know English well, try writing. You can earn online.”

That was it. Just a line. But that one sentence shook something in me.

Let me take you back a little. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. 

I was your average desi girl with dreams I didn’t even know how to name. Not dreams of fame or becoming a millionaire overnight. Just a wish to do something. To earn something. To feel seen. Heard. Valued.

But in the world I lived in, that wasn’t really the norm.

I grew up in a family that loved me, no doubt. But like most girls, I was handed a script early: get good marks, behave, learn how to cook, clean, serve, and one day, marry well. Careers weren’t the focus. Independence wasn’t a goal. Ambition? That was for boys.

And yet, something inside me wanted more. 

At times, I gave in. I thought, maybe they were right. Perhaps I should sit back and enjoy life like everyone else. But deep down, something kept poking me. I couldn’t rest. Something inside me kept whispering:

“Do something, Rabia. This isn’t it.”

So I started. With zero clue what I was doing. The first thing I tried? Network marketing through a company called Oriflame. It was a mess. I quickly realized it wasn’t for me. Then came a Facebook job that asked for 600 PKR as an investment. Scam. Gone. In 2019, I created a food channel. It flopped, too. Each failure felt like a slap, but somehow I kept moving.

In October 2020, I came across a Facebook post. A girl was offering a writing course for just 1000 PKR. She promised that good English could lead to good earnings. I was curious. Writing? Freelancing? These were brand-new words to me. But something about it felt right. I asked my father to send the money from my pocket allowance. He did. I received a few voice notes from the girl. Nothing fancy, but it gave me a direction. And that’s all I needed.

Around the same time, I started reselling clothes from a shop. I earned 2000 PKR through that. But I was more focused on writing. I wrote free articles for a now-defunct site called EasternFuzz.com just to build a portfolio. Then, my first client came along. He offered me 300 PKR for a 1000-word article. Insanely low, but I said yes. That moment when he paid me? I felt like I owned a palace. I danced with joy. It wasn’t about the amount; it was about proving that I could earn, doing something I loved.

I told everyone. My father smiled like he always knew. My mom and sisters were surprised, unsure. They didn’t discourage me—but they didn’t quite understand either.

Because while I was typing away at home, there were still chores to do. Guests to attend. Expectations to meet.

“Thora ghar ka kaam bhi kar liya karo.”

“Laptop chhoro, mama ko help karo.”

It wasn’t toxic. It was just…traditional. A mindset passed down by generations.

And it hurt sometimes.

Not because they were wrong. But I was exhausted. Trying to prove myself while scrubbing dishes and meeting deadlines.

Still, I kept going.

Soon, another client came. This one offered $10 per article. And he stayed. For months. My 1000-rupee course had paid off already. No waiting for end-of-the-month salaries. This was fast, fulfilling, and it was mine.

I started earning 20,000 to 30,000 PKR per month within a few months. Compared to the 1000 PKR pocket money or the 5000 PKR I earned from teaching, this was massive. 

I even opened my own bank account. I was the first girl in my house to do this kind of work. But my family didn’t get it. They still wanted me to focus on house chores. 

And then I did something even crazier: I trained other girls for free.

Because I knew there were so many like me—waiting, stuck, unsure how to begin.

I started getting recognition. My parents were proud, but my mom and sisters still didn’t see it as a “career.” They wanted me to keep the house running first. It was frustrating, but I understood.

Then, things changed.

I got married in early 2022. Took a short break. Moved to Saudi Arabia with my husband. And there, something shifted.

Suddenly, I had space. Freedom. Time.

And a husband who supported me just like my father did.

I started again—new clients, new projects. I wasn’t just earning now. I was building.

2022 ended with multi-six-figure earnings. 2023? Even better.

Then came the moment.

A scriptwriting client of mine said, “Why don’t you build a team?” It clicked. I had already trained so many girls. Why not give them a platform too?

That’s how my mini agency was born.

Today, I lead a growing team of writers and scriptwriters. We’ve worked with 60+ YouTube channels, completed projects for over 35 clients, and I’ve trained 15+ girls to start their own freelance journeys.

My mom? My sisters? They’ve come around. They don’t just believe in me now—they ask me to guide them too.

“Please humein bhi sikhao.”

I smile every time I hear that.

Because this wasn’t just a journey of earning.

It was a journey of shifting minds. My own first. Then others’.

From Rs.300 to a turnover of over 10 million. From hiding my work behind chores to being the go-to person in the house for digital skills.

And it all started with one line on Facebook.

So here’s my message:

If you’re a girl sitting quietly, wondering if your dreams matter, they do.

If you’ve been told to stay small, grow louder.

If you’re scared no one will support you, support yourself first.

Your story doesn’t need to begin big. Mine started with an Rs 1000 course, a voice note, and a father’s belief.

And look where it led.