A Simple Tailor with Big Dreams

By: Muhammad Arif

I never thought my life would be anything special. I wasn’t born in a big city, nor into wealth or opportunity. I was born in a small village in Pakistan, where the days were simple, and the nights were even quieter. My father was a farmer and my mother stayed busy managing the home. I don’t remember a single day when life felt easy — but it was honest, and that made all the difference.

When I was a child, I used to sit beside my uncle who was a tailor. I’d watch him work the sewing machine like magic. The way he turned a plain piece of cloth into something wearable — it fascinated me. Slowly, I began to learn. First, by watching. Then, by helping. And finally, by making my own small shirts and trousers. I remember the first time I made a kurta that actually fit someone. I didn’t sleep that night. I kept staring at it, smiling like a fool.

As I grew older, responsibilities knocked louder. My father fell ill, and I had to step up. I dropped out of school in 8th grade to help at home. No one forced me — it just felt right. I stitched clothes, worked in burger shops, cleaned, lifted cement, did whatever came my way. My hands always smelled like fabric, or sweat, or sometimes onions from the burger shop. But I was proud. I was doing something. I was surviving.

One of the hardest times in my life was when I tried to go to Saudi Arabia for work. I had dreams — not big ones — just enough to support my family, maybe fix our roof, maybe send my younger brother to college. But getting there wasn’t easy. I tried everything — agents, references, praying every night. Nothing worked for a long time. There were nights I’d lie on the floor, staring at the fan, wondering, “Is this it? Is this all there is for me?”

But life, somehow, always gives a little light when you need it most.

In 2023, I got an opportunity to work in a small burger shop in Jeddah. It wasn’t glamorous — I wasn’t flipping burgers in a fancy restaurant. It was a local street-style place, hot, fast, and loud. But I loved every second of it. I learned the local language bit by bit, made friends with the Egyptian cook, and laughed with the Bangladeshi cleaner. We were all strangers in a strange land, but food connected us.

People often ask me, “Arif, don’t you wish you had more? A big job, a car, a nice house?” And maybe I do. But more than anything, I’m proud. Proud that I didn’t give up. Proud that I never let shame or ego stop me from working — whether it was tailoring, burger flipping, or concrete mixing.

Today, I still dream. I dream of having my own tailoring shop one day, maybe mixing in a burger corner too — why not? I’ve got both skills. I want to create jobs for others like me. People who are hardworking but just need a chance.

My life may never be the kind people write books about. But it’s mine — honest, raw, and real. And if my story can inspire even one person to keep going, to keep working, to never give up — then maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

Today, I still dream. I dream of having my own tailoring shop one day, maybe mixing in a burger corner too — why not? I’ve got both skills. I want to create jobs for others like me. People who are hardworking but just need a chance.

My life may never be the kind people write books about. But it’s mine — honest, raw, and real. And if my story can inspire even one person to keep going, to keep working, to never give up — then maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

hardworking, real-life, inspirational, pakistani, tailor, life-story, dreams, emotional, human-experience, self-made