rom a very young age, I found words insufficient as an expression of my emotions most of which I didn’t even understand. But my emotions would manifest adequately on the canvas as I made portraits of my dad, with crayons, to express my love for him, or when I designed abstract collages to channel my anger, or painted sceneries in watercolours that flowed almost like tears to deal with days when I felt blue.

In other words, art helped me identify the puzzle of emotions in my head. More than that, art proved to be an escape from reality for me, an escape from being a woman and a daughter living in Pakistan.

As someone forced into STEM education despite a talent for fine arts proved a hurdle as I progressed into high school. Doodling the patterns iron shavings made close to a magnet, adoring the colours the Benedict’s test solution made when heated, and sprinkling NaCl on my watercolour paintings seemed to make more sense than studying physics, biology or chemistry.

Although my professional aspirations — to become an artist — were obstructed by societal perceptions of the profession, I was determined to be creative and expressive. So, my dad’s office table started piling up with handmade cards, my grandfather’s olden cassettes found themselves covered in paint, and my room’s walls were decorated with canvases. Above all, art helped me express my emotions — particularly my love for people.

I gradually developed a liking for producing handmade gifts for my friends, to show rather than claim what they meant to me. Seeing their reactions to hand-painted gift wrapping paper or portraits of them always excited me.

Manal ki Dunya helped a once confused teenager figure out her identity and have a more precise idea of what she wanted from life. Taking a leap of faith the day I created my Insta page proved to be the best decision of my life.

During the summer of 2020, when I felt detached from my social circles due to Covid-19, I painted a few mandala designs and used their backs to write letters to my friends. These letters led me to the idea of using my love for art to spread joy and to inspire young people like myself to create more. On an early April morning, I made an Instagram account by the name Manal ki Dunya (Manal’s world). It showed me that my Instagram page was a safe space for me. It truly represented my personality.

Over time, I used this (Instagram) page to post works of art I had made, ranging from hand-painted joggers to hand-painted jeans and paintings of popular TV show characters and album covers. Soon, the account had hit a hundred followers, a magnificent achievement for the 2020 version of myself!

The account gradually morphed into a little ‘business’ that I was the sole owner of. Soon I had started getting messages from people asking me if I could paint for them. I felt on top of this world, especially when I realised that people were going to pay me for the art pieces I created for them. As months passed, I hit more milestones — receiving recognition from world-famous actors, being featured in several online magazines and finally hitting 1,000 followers.

My purpose of narrating my story is to show the young, talented artists out there who may have given in to societal pressures and hidden away the artist in them, that they can always follow their dream. What is needed is a belief in themselves.

Manal ki Dunya helped a once confused teenager to figure out her identity and have a more precise idea of what she wanted from life. Taking a leap of faith the day I created my Insta page proved the best decision of my life. As of today, Manal ki Dunya showcases more than 30 of my artworks, progress I would have never expected to make if I didn’t take that leap of faith.

The writer is a student of law, politics, and economics. Her areas of interest include advocacy for women’s rights, European History, and Culinary Arts