My story doesn’t start in a coaching institute or a corporate office. It starts in a small field in Guna, Madhya Pradesh, where my father, a farmer, works every day under the sun. I am the daughter of that farmer.

In my family, no one had ever become a Chartered Accountant. In my village, no one had even attempted it. In my entire friends’ circle from a Hindi-medium Government School, I was the first girl to even dream of it. I had no mentor from the industry, no one to guide me on what to do next, no English-medium advantage, and no professional background to fall back on. What I had was one sentence from my grandmother that stayed with me forever “A girl should be independent.”

That sentence became my compass.

When I started my CA journey, reality hit me hard. The language was difficult, the concepts were new, and the system was not built for someone like me. On top of that, my health started failing. My haemoglobin level was constantly 6-7, I was physically weak, and I was on prolonged medical treatment. Doctors told me to pause, to take a break. But how do you explain to the world that when you are the first one in your village to dream this big, you cannot afford to take a break?

I failed. I failed again. I cleared my CA Inter Group 2 in my 5th attempt. For many, that would be the end of confidence. For me, it was proof that I could fall and still get up. I continued my articleship even when I was not well, because I knew stopping would mean never starting again.

Then came the darkest phase. After giving 2 attempts in CA Final, I watched every friend of mine become a CA, enjoying their life, celebrating their success, while I was the only one left behind, stuck in a group of younger friends. Relatives and friends constantly said, “You should leave this course, it’s not for you.” I heard it so many times that I actually started believing it. I lost all hope. One day, I packed all my books, all my notes, all my study material and gave it to the kabadiwala to sell. I had decided to quit. But my mother, my father, and my Principal – they didn’t let me. They pleaded with me, made me promise that I would just go one last time, one last time for the exam. I went, with no expectation, only to keep the promise I had made them. And that one last time became the unforgettable moment of my lifetime – the moment that changed everything.

Behind every attempt of mine, there was a silent sacrifice that no one saw. My mother – she did not wear even a single gold ring for six long years. All her jewellery was in a gold loan, taken only so that her daughter could live in a city, do her articleship, and learn in a domain where people don’t easily get a chance. For six years, she attended every festival, every wedding, every function without wearing her gold, waiting for just one day when she could proudly call me “CA SAHIBA“. My father, on the other hand, forgot how to live for himself. He went from asking people for cash, to saving even one rupee from waste, just to keep my dream alive. He heard whispers every single day – “It’s not our culture for a girl to live alone in a different city,” “She will not be able to do CA,” “You are forcing her.” But he never answered them. He just quietly absorbed it all, because this was a dream he had started seeing only because I wanted to become a CA. And my two elder siblings – they never complained. They locked away the childhood habits of teasing and annoying their younger sister, put on hold their own dreams and postponed their own expenses so that their youngest sister could live in the city. My CA is not mine alone. It is built on my mother’s empty jewellery box, my father’s tired hands, and my siblings’ unseen sacrifices.

And in that struggle, I made a conscious choice. While most freshers go for traditional audit and taxation, I chose something very uncommon, very niche, and very challenging – Transfer Pricing and International Taxation. People questioned me – “Why this difficult domain? Why not a safe one?” But I wanted to be where very few from my background had reached. I wanted to learn what global businesses deal with, not just local compliance.

That decision changed everything.

During the campus placement, there were more than 30 CAs sitting for the same interview in International Taxation. It was a highly technical round. I still remember, I was the only one selected in 15 minutes. For a girl who was once told that Hindi-medium students cannot crack interviews in big firms, those 15 minutes were an answer to every doubt. Today, I am a first-generation Chartered Accountant, specialising in Transfer Pricing and International Taxation.

But for me, this is not just about becoming a CA. This is about breaking a chain. When a girl from a farming family, from a government school, from a small town like Guna, stands in a niche global domain, she does not just build her own career. She builds a path for hundreds of other girls who look like her, speak like her, and dream like her.

My goal now is bigger than my job. I want to help MSMEs, first-generation entrepreneurs, and family businesses who, like my father, work hard but don’t have access to clarity on complex tax matters. I want to make International Taxation simple for Indian businesses going global.

My journey taught me one powerful truth, which I want everyone especially every young girl to know:

Talent is everywhere in rural India. What is lacking is access. And once you give a girl access, she doesn’t just clear an exam, she changes the narrative.

This is just the beginning….