FutureSheLeaders (6)
Royesh: Hi Maryam jan. How are you?
Maryam: Hi Ustad – Good morning. Thanks, are you doing well?
Royesh: Thanks. It’s been many years since you left Marefat for Abu Dhabi. You must’ve been 16 or 17?
Maryam: I was 17 when I got accepted. I turned 18 that same year.
Royesh: How old are you now?
Maryam: I’m 25 now.
Royesh: Where are you studying or working now? What’s your current situation?
Maryam: I have been living/working in Houston, TX for two years now.
Royesh: What did you study, and what line of work are you in?
Maryam: I majored in Computer Science and also completed a minor in Interactive Media. I graduated with two offers, both in CS/Information Technology. I ended up choosing the remote role so I could stay close to family.
Royesh: Would you be considered an engineer in your field? What’s your official title?
Maryam: My title is Data Conversion Senior Analyst – the titles are associate, senior, and so on. I could be called an engineer in the IT field in a sense.
Royesh: Tell me a bit about your family. Are they with you now?
Maryam: Yes, we’re very close as a family. I live with my parents and two younger brothers. My parents immigrated to the States when I got accepted into university. We are also close with my grandfather’s family in Kabul; I last saw them three years ago. I’m really eager to go back and see them again. We’re very close as a family—almost all of us live together.
Royesh: Maryam, I’d like to gently take you back from where we are now to explore your past. When you were accepted to Abu Dhabi University, one of the key elements of your success was your personal story. When we spoke with your program coordinator, they found your story incredibly powerful and inspiring. They felt they had discovered something truly meaningful about you—something that revealed your personality and potential to become a valuable member of the university community. What was that story? What did you try to convey in your personal statement that made it so compelling to them?
Maryam: Yeah, my personal story was actually really strong. I hadn’t thought about it in a while, but looking back, it was pretty interesting. The university had a low acceptance rate and a very diverse student body —people from all over the world, even countries I’d never heard of before. They really valued diversity. In my story, I mainly talked about my background. I was born in Iran, and so were my parents —though my dad was actually born in Iraq and raised in Iran.
When we moved to Afghanistan, my dad enrolled me in a private school that used English textbooks from Pakistan, not the Afghan national curriculum. I was suddenly in a place where I didn’t even speak the language. Their first language was English, and second was Pashto. It was really hard to adjust. I shared how I managed to connect with people who were so different from me —different languages, different accents — and how I still became top of the class.
That experience, I felt, mirrored what life at university would be like: people from everywhere, very different, but needing to work together —roommates, classmates, teammates. Later, I moved to Kateb and then Marefat, where I had even more chances to grow through extracurriculars. But the heart of my story was really about learning to connect with people from all walks of life.
Royesh: Tell me more about your parents. You said their background relates to both Iran and Iraq. What’s the connection?
Maryam: Yes, my grandfather immigrated to Iraq for education in his twenties. My dad and his older sister were born there. Then they migrated to Iran. Ever since I can remember, my life has been shaped by my migration. Then we moved to Afghanistan and I later moved to the UAE and then the US. I just realized I’ve never lived in one place for more than 7 years.
Royesh: When you came to Afghanistan from Iran, what was the first cultural difference that struck you as a child? People’s accents were very different and they spoke a language I had never heard. I remember one day I asked a teacher for a mohr (clay tablet) to pray. They explained why they didn’t use it in their sect. I was too young to understand, but they were pointing out Sunni-Shia differences that I was never taught before.
Royesh: Did life in Afghanistan feel very different from Iran, especially as a child experiencing life for the first time?
Maryam: Things were very different. In Iran, kids walked to school or were dropped off casually. In Kabul, security was a major concern. I had my own school driver as the school provided no transportation. People generally seemed very cautious. There were guards at the school entrance and people weren’t allowed in freely.
Royesh: Which school did you first attend in Afghanistan?
Maryam: It was called Setara-e Derakhshan in Spin Kalay. I don’t think they are open anymore.
Royesh: How long were you at that school before you moved to Kateb?
Maryam: Around a year and a half. It was an elementary school so I transferred to Kateb.
Royesh: Kateb was one of the top schools in Kabul. Did you face any academic challenges there?
Maryam: No, not academically. But they didn’t offer as many extracurricular opportunities as Marefat did.
Royesh: Which grades did you attend at Kateb?
Maryam: From grade 7th to 10th.
Royesh: And then you moved to Marefat during grade 10?
Maryam: Yes [for grade 11]. A favorite teacher told me not to “waste my time” and go to Marefat instead—because she thought was not challenged in the classroom or outside. My mother had also heard of Marefat and asked me to check it out. So I transferred.
Royesh: When you came to Marefat, what stood out to you? What year was that?
Maryam: I joined Marefat in 2015. One big change was having to use public transport for the first time and travel alone from Khushal Khan – I had never traveled so far by myself. What stood out to me was how motivated the students were in Marefat— they loved learning. Unlike other schools, where teachers forced students to study, Marefat students were self-driven.
Royesh: When you joined Marefat, did you make friends quickly? Was it easy to join social groups?
Maryam: It was difficult at first. They saw me as an outsider since most had been there since kindergarten. I joined in grade 11 and didn’t make friends right away. But after a few exams and interactions, I got close to girls like Tooba, Sharifa, and Banin — who I’m still in touch with.
Later, my good friend Zohal also transferred from Kateb because I spoke so highly of Marefat. I had a close group of friends by the end of year.
Royesh: 14 or 15 is a key age for forming friendships. As a girl that age, what were your criteria for choosing friends?
Maryam: My criteria were a bit selfish. I naturally became friends with the top students — though not intentionally. It was mutually beneficial: we were good at different subjects. That shared mindset and competitiveness brought us together.
Royesh: Back then, there was no Empowerment course — we focused more on anthropology and Humanism. We focused on two concepts: Ambition (which is self-focused) and Vision (which connects to others). Most of the time, the dreams we carry are deeply personal—they belong to us. We work hard based on those dreams, aiming to achieve our individual goals. But when it comes to visions, we usually see something bigger— something that connects us to others, to a group, or a larger purpose. Often, those who become close friends in a class are quite similar in many ways. You also mentioned that top-ranking students often stick together— those who are first or second in class usually become friends. But at the same time, these strong students can also become serious rivals. So I want to ask you about your own experience: Where did you draw the line between competition and friendship? In what moments were you ready to support and stand by each other as friends, and in what moments did you feel like the friendship was at risk—like it could turn into pure competition, or even a kind of rivalry that felt deeply personal or intense?
Maryam: I see what you mean. For me, friendship always came first. We became friends before we became competitors. That bond always took priority. We would help each other whenever needed—there was no such thing as hiding notes or sabotaging one another. Our competition was always built on friendship.
Later, when my friends from Marefat see this video, they’ll know exactly what I’m referring to. And I think—you might be hinting at the friendly rivalry between me and Benin.
Royesh: Your rivalry with Benin is one example—but I’m really speaking more broadly. Often, friendships don’t erase individual ambitions. Each person still has their own goals and drive, even while being close friends. What I’m curious about is this: Where does that friendship turn into competition? And where does competition grow so strong that it starts to overshadow the friendship?
I’d like to understand that subtle moment—when you realize: “This is where I can’t sacrifice my personal ambition or goal for the sake of my friend.”
Maryam: When it feels like there’s only one spot, one winner —then you can’t step aside for someone else.
Royesh: Now, in that very moment—when you choose yourself over your friend—some people might call it selfish. Do you ever feel guilty about that? Do you feel like you’re doing something wrong by not making a sacrifice for your friend? Like, for example, saying: “Now that I’ve made it to this point, this opportunity shouldn’t be mine—it should go to you instead.” Do you wrestle with that feeling?
Maryam: No, that’s not sacrifice — that would be foolishness. Sometimes it’s every man for himself. When it’s about winning, no one can afford to step aside.
Royesh: What if it reaches a point where one of you has to step aside—where there’s only space for one to move forward? The difference between you is so small, it’s barely noticeable. You’ve come all this way together, as close friends, and even your academic competition has been within the tiniest margins—just a fraction of a percent. But now, you’ve both reached a stage where only one person can receive an opportunity. And you know, if one takes it, the other might feel devastated, left behind. So, what do you do in that moment? Are you willing to sacrifice for your friend? And if you choose not to—if you choose yourself—do you feel guilty?
Maryam: I don’t think I would. Sacrificing at that point would mean hurting myself. Either I step on myself or my goal — someone will get hurt either way, and I prefer that I’m not the one.
Royesh: Now, let’s zoom out and think on a larger scale. Let’s say it’s no longer just about two students—but about two world leaders. Think of situations like Netanyahu and Khamenei, or Trump and Putin. They reach a point where both are holding on tightly—whether for power, national interest, long-term goals, or economic gain. But the reality is, only one can move forward; the other must step aside. And the moment one refuses to step aside—that’s where the deviation begins. One wins, the other loses. Now the question is: Who is willing to step back? And if neither does, it leads to confrontation—perhaps even to the point of nuclear conflict. So do you still think, as you said earlier, that it’s justifiable not to step back?
Maryam: That’s an extreme case — an example of unhealthy competition.
Royesh: At the personal level, you might act one way— but then you start thinking: “If I give this up, maybe I’m just being foolish. I’m sacrificing something that rightfully belongs to me, something I’ve earned,
just so someone else can have it. Is that really fair?” Now take that to a larger scale. Let’s say one day you become a president. Even then, your individuality doesn’t vanish. You’ve reached that position through your own merit and capability. But now you’re faced with someone else who’s also reached the same level—and again, you’re drawn into a competition. Imagine a scholarship—you get it, but your close friend doesn’t. They’re shocked. They might be mentally or emotionally affected. And you start to think: “If I had stepped aside, maybe they wouldn’t have suffered. Maybe I could have gotten another opportunity elsewhere.”
Now take that same thinking to the level of global power— between the U.S., Russia, or China. Let’s say only one can claim the lead in a particular issue, and the margin is razor thin. Now it becomes a matter of who gets to speak first—America or China. So at that moment, do you still step aside?
Maryam:At that level, it’s too dangerous. It’s not an individual competition anymore and shouldn’t be treated as such.
Royesh: What’s the difference, really—between you as an individual competing with a close friend for a scholarship or an award, and not being willing to step aside or give up what you believe is rightfully yours— and someone else, say a president of a country—like Putin, Trump, Khamenei, or Netanyahu— who’s reached a moment where they say: “If we give up this advantage, our country will fall to second place, or lose a historic opportunity”?
And so, based on that thinking, they’re even willing to go to war—to destroy the other side—even if it means massive loss. What do you think is the real difference between these two situations?
Maryam: My decisions in competition affect just me (and maybe a couple more people). But their decisions impact entire nations, so they can’t act as independently as I can.
Royesh: I bring this up because it’s a very real and painful dilemma—especially among close friends during teenage years,
particularly in school or university. You often find yourselves in groups where everyone is quite similar— in academic performance, in personality, in energy and physical ability. And that’s quite natural.
You can’t really place people who are fundamentally different into the same group. Those who are similar in academic performance naturally interact more with each other. And the more they share—in personality, values, physical ability, or other traits— the stronger their sense of connection becomes.
Friendship groups usually form around these shared qualities. If personal ambitions become the central focus, they can pose a real risk to the group. Because when things reach critical moments, those same shared qualities can—subtly but dangerously—turn into deep divisions. Because in those critical moments, even the closest of friends can suddenly turn into bitter rivals. Take something like a scholarship—two friends walking the same path, side by side. But there’s only one spot. One gets it, and the other may feel deeply hurt—maybe even feel like a failure. They may think, “I wasn’t good enough.” And that can create a very painful emotional wound. I’ve witnessed many such moments among my own students over the years. And I believe that, since you’ve been part of these close-knit groups,
you’ve experienced this kind of situation too.
So I’d like to ask you to reflect on it— as a valuable life lesson, not just for yourself, but for your generation.
Have you ever found yourself in a moment where your own growth or success made a close friend upset? Where you could feel their disappointment, maybe even their silent distance—and you didn’t know what to do? Did you ever consider stepping back and saying:
“This success doesn’t have to be mine. Let it go to you”?
Maryam: I’ve often faced competition — not just in school, but especially in the workplace. It’s pushed me to work harder, not out of toxic ambition, but because it helped me improve. Sometimes I did feel guilty. Most recent example was a few weeks ago, when a position opened in our department. People encouraged me to apply. I think about a friend or colleague—someone I came into a cohort or a company with, someone I talk to every day. I realize now that I didn’t talk to them about this opportunity. It was just one position, and only one of us could get it. Unfortunately, I didn’t share it with them, even though we usually share many things. This was a competitive situation, and I was thinking about myself and went ahead and applied. If they later find out that this was the kind of position where only one person could apply, and I didn’t tell them, they might feel really hurt. But it wasn’t personal. I didn’t have any issue with them— it’s just that, in moments like this, it’s natural for people to prioritize themselves.
Royesh: This feeling you just described—I’d like to explore it more through your life experiences. Why did I choose you for this question? Because from the beginning, Maryam has always been a top student. She hasn’t been just an average learner. There haven’t been many students at her level.
At least among those I know, she was the one always competing at the highest level—getting near-perfect scores. So, anyone working or studying alongside you had to keep up with that intensity. That alone requires tremendous effort on your part, and at the same time, it creates pressure for your peers. They have to run fast just to keep up with you. Naturally, this level of excellence can also stir up intense competition, even resistance. Have you experienced situations where friends or classmates felt left behind—like, Maryam is just too fast; we can’t catch up with her? Or felt like she gets all the opportunities, and we don’t? It doesn’t necessarily mean they were envious in a negative way, wishing you harm. But it’s very human to feel that longing—I wish I had what she has, I wish I had her ability. That kind of wishing is a sign that someone feels left out, that they don’t feel included in your success. It can be a painful feeling. Did you often notice such reactions in the eyes or behavior of your friends—especially during your time at Marefat?
Maryam: Sometimes, yes, I noticed it. And while it’s true that they may have felt a bit of envy, I think more than that, it created opportunities for them. For example, my percentage was 100%, so they had to get very close to that to compete with me. That pushed them to improve—to try harder. Some of them really raised their scores and made great progress.
Like when you selected me for the Debate team and told me to choose a teammate— I picked people who were close to me, because they were my friends. I think there was a very fine line between feeling envy and feeling challenged to grow.
Sometimes, when you’re always ahead, you might feel like—no matter how hard others try, they just can’t catch up to me. But then you enter new spaces—like when you went to Abu Dhabi University—and meet people from all over the world. Maybe Maryam was a strong swimmer in a small pond— but suddenly, you find yourself in the ocean, surrounded by whales— people who swim even faster and go even farther. Did that shift something in you? Did you ever feel envy—or even more than envy, that bitter feeling of I can’t catch up with this person, no matter how hard I try? Did you ever find yourself in that place?
Maryam: Absolutely, I felt that strongly especially in my freshman year. Competition was different from what I was used to in school. In school, you know who’s top-ranked, who’s doing well. At university, it’s more private —everyone has their own project and interests and things that you don’t have to know about and that shocked me a little. Like you said — I had been the top student in a relatively small space, but there I was among people who were all top students. My confidence did take a hit for a couple months. I had to completely rework my mindset — and realize I didn’t have to be the best. It took a year until I could compete with the top 5% of my class, raise my hand to answer difficult questions. It was a long journey.
Royesh: Let’s go back to a lighter memory from your time at Marefat. When you joined, you quickly became close with your friend Banin— you sat together, and there was this funny dynamic: you always ate a lot, and she always talked a lot. You used to say you got the energy and she did the talking. Was your academic competition also that close? And extracurriculars? You went to Japan together and later to Abu Dhabi.
Over that time, how did your relationship and that blend of friendship and rivalry evolve? I met Banin on my very first day at Marefat —standing right in front of me in line. She’s very smart. She had a similar strategy for choosing friends: gravitating toward people who challenged her—maybe that’s why we clicked. Our academic competition in school was very close, and so were our extracurricular activities. We basically did the same things — like debate club or hosting events at different foreign embassies.
Ironically, the time we competed the least was in university. We both got accepted, thankfully— but once there, we realized our interests had grown apart — I went into Computer Science, and she into Social Science. Not being in the same classes and following similar activities, our competition faded, and paths diverged.
Royesh: Before you entered university, you had a trip to Japan. What was that for? How did you get into that competition? Who were you competing with, and what was the outcome?
Maryam: That was an interesting experience. You had asked our English teacher to organize a contest. She conducted several interview rounds for eligible students including myself even though I had just joined Marefat (she knew me from Kateb). Even though I’d missed the first few rounds, she let me participate. I didn’t really know what others were doing, but I saw that some people only took a speaking test—just like the one I did. What was interesting was that, instead of selecting three people, they only chose one—me. Then you told me: Now build your own team. That meant you trusted me, and I got to pick two more members. I already knew Benin—she was my friend. I didn’t know Somaya, but someone recommended her to me. That’s how our team was formed.
I had only a little background in debate from school—just some basic things I remembered. We didn’t have much time to prepare. In just a few weeks, we had to get familiar with that specific format of debate.
Then, the visa issue came up. We couldn’t get visas directly from Kabul, so we had to go to Pakistan. We went to Islamabad and found out the visa queue was extremely long and slow. So, the three of us and our mentor traveled to Karachi. After three weeks, we finally got our Japanese visas. Then we went to Japan.
It was a major competition. Honestly, it was kind of a shock—for me at least— because 13 countries had sent their top representatives. In their schools, debate is part of their system—they have school teams, national and international competitions. I don’t remember all the details of the debates, but we came in second place. Japan came first. I think we performed really well.
Royesh: When you were accepted for the Abu Dhabi scholarship, there was an interesting story. You had been preparing for Kabul University entrance exams, but then decided not to take them. You came and informed me of your decision — what did that moment mean?
Maryam: It was a very sudden decision. I think the inspiration came from a session you held with us during our university prep class. You spoke about goals — how sometimes you must sacrifice smaller goals for bigger ones— like giving up Kabul University for a bigger dream. That made us realize we had other options, that the only path ahead of us wasn’t Kankor and Kabul or Polytechnique University.
After that, Banin and I visited you at your office saying we wanted to apply to universities abroad. You teased us about being so easily influenced but we were serious. I think you received an email right after we left your office, and sent someone to call us back. This time, you asked more seriously if we truly wanted to pursue this path. And you told us about the email that asked you, as a counselor, to recommend a student for application to NYU Abu Dhabi. You forwarded the email to Bilal who worked at the community outreach office.
Royesh: Bilal Noori worked in the scholarship department. yes – we started visiting his office and everything started from there — things moved very fast. But the decision to skip the national exam and apply for opportunities abroad happened in a single day.
It was a beautiful and fortunate moment — for both you and us. That email I received that day was, as they say in English, a surprise. It came in those exact moments. The school attendant had just brought tea, and I told him to go find the two girls who had just left. You came back, I asked if you were serious about your decision, and then I sent you to Bilal. After that, it became a very competitive process.
We saw how long it lasted, how much of your time it took, and how much back-and-forth it involved. A lot of work was done until you finally got the scholarship. You succeeded in the first round — whereas Banin didn’t. I think she had to wait three months to reapply. I think that’s what happened — we had different Candidate Weekends.
Royesh: Right.
Maryam: The school invited us for a 3-day visit — to interview us, and for us to get to know the university and meet other students – and even attend sample classes.
Our visits were on different dates. Mine was in February; Banin’s was in March or April, the final call. Throughout the process, I thought there were two spots — that they would accept two people — but it wasn’t like that. They selected students based on standards and not allocated seats.
Royesh: That’s why I asked earlier — one of the most delicate challenges for me was what happened between you and Banin at that time. You were both equal in ability, competing at the same level. But clearly, the university saw a difference, and you were selected in the first round while Banin had to wait three more months. That waiting period was full of pressure and stress for her. I saw how broken she was — how bitter she felt. Even though she eventually got accepted, that sense of being one step behind was real. Did this happen with your other classmates too? Did anyone else experience something similar?
Maryam: Not through school applications — only the two of us applied to that university. But in other situations where only one person could be selected, yes, that has happened. Not as intensely, but in cases of tough competition, it did come up.
Royesh: Now, Maryam, with all these experiences you’ve had— if you were to present yourself as a role model for your peers, for those who come after you, or even girls who might follow a similar path five or ten years from now—what would you say? What are the kinds of things that, in hindsight, show the natural rhythm of growth and learning, especially in a competitive journey? Things that you now realize were completely normal, but at the time, felt too serious or overwhelming? For example, were there moments when you fell behind and later realized it wasn’t such a big deal, that it was something you could move past? Or moments when you got really excited about a success, and now, looking back, you see it wasn’t that huge—maybe you could have handled it with more calm and patience? These kinds of reflections can really help others—especially girls walking a similar path— not to take everything so heavily, to deal with challenges more naturally and with less pressure. Based on your own experiences, what would you say to them?
Maryam: When I was 16 or 17, competing closely with my friends, I used to think it was completely normal to work alone—that I had no help, that I was on my own and had to do everything by myself. It’s actually important to do research, find resources, and let others know when you need support. A lot of people think success means doing everything alone— who asks for help, and knows when to ask, is the one who truly succeeds. You need to build connections, get to know others, and understand when and how to reach out.
Besides that, do you feel that opportunities in your career are really as limited as people say? Or are there actually many opportunities — you just need to know how to spot them?
Maryam: There are so many opportunities — especially when you work at a company with a large staff. There are endless chances, both for promotions and for side projects. My company sends daily emails about new campaigns or certificates you can earn. Most people ignore them, thinking it’s just internal ads. But some do take them seriously. I once signed up for a certificate program. A couple months later my name came up when the director asked if anyone was holding that certificate. Or when a new software is being tested, and they ask who has experience — that’s when it matters.
So yes, there are plenty of opportunities; you just have to keep your eyes open and notice what others don’t.
Royesh: If there are so many opportunities at work — especially ones with material benefits — then logically there should be even more when it comes to education. When you applied to your university or other academic programs, did you realize the same thing — that there are countless opportunities if you’re aware and prepare yourself for them?
Maryam: Yes, I strongly believe that. There are so many opportunities, and one of the most important skills is knowing how to find them. But researching them isn’t easy. Many people think it’s as simple as a Google search — but it’s not. Finding the right thing takes a lot of time and effort. You have to ask everyone you know, seek help wherever you can, and position yourself to find and apply for those chances. Subscribe to resources, watch videos, and follow the right people.
Royesh: Do you think girls in Afghanistan — despite their limited access to resources — can still be hopeful that opportunities exist for them too, as long as they work hard? Are there really many opportunities for them, or are they limited? They can absolutely keep in mind that opportunities exist, but at the same time, they must work on developing their skills. They should focus on what they love — pick one subject and get better at it. For example, if they’re into science or math, there are plenty of free resources on YouTube. The more they expose themselves to content and keep learning, the more they’ll be able to recognize opportunities that they did not even know existed.
Some people agree that there are lots of opportunities — but they believe they only exist in America or Japan, either that you have to be really good with computers. Otherwise they give up. What does your experience show? Is that how it works?
Maryam: One of the biggest lessons I learned from you is that opportunity can exist in many shapes and forms — that it’s not limited. Opportunities don’t just exist in the U.S. or Japan or Abu Dhabi. Don’t limit yourself thinking, “if I don’t get this exact scholarship, there’s nothing else for me.” Anything can be an opportunity. You just need to build yourself up in whatever field you’re interested in, so you’re ready to recognize your chance when it appears — in any place, shape, or time.
Royesh: That’s really interesting. We also tell our students in the Empowerment sessions—not to limit their opportunities to just a few options. Don’t say, the only opportunity is in America, or only a certain university matters, or Japan is the only place to succeed, or business is the only path. No—use your intelligence to recognize opportunities from every direction.
Now Maryam, at this stage of your life—say you’re 25 years old—and let’s imagine you’ll live another 100 years (I actually hope you live 200!), but even if we take 100 as a natural lifespan, you’re now one quarter through that journey. You’ve already experienced and achieved so much in this first quarter. From now on, you’ll start harvesting the fruits of your efforts.
How would you describe these first 25 years of your life? What have you learned or gained? And what do you see in the 75 years ahead? Have you come through a difficult path and now you’re heading toward something easier? Or have things been smooth so far, but you anticipate more challenges ahead? Did you begin this journey with optimism and now you’re more cautious? Or was it the opposite—you started with uncertainty and now you’re filled with hope? What kind of connection do you see between your past and your future at this point in your life?
Maryam: That’s such a good question. I remember around my last birthday, I was thinking—I have until I’m 30 to make everything happen. If I don’t succeed by then, it’s over. But I know that when I turn 30, I’ll probably say, Now I have until 40. The truth is, from everything I’ve learned, we really do have our whole lives to do meaningful things. About your question—I think getting to this point has actually been the easy part: school, university, even getting a job. That’s because it follows a natural path— and it’s expected that after graduation you’ll find a job. But after that—things become difficult. Everyone’s life goes in different directions. Among my university friends, some have taken very different paths.
One became a tour guide and is now traveling every week—it’s both her job and her passion. Another one got married and has a child. One went back to school and just earned a PhD. Another works with the government, doing internships in different places. Everyone is in a different place. You just can’t compare people.
The only comparison that makes sense is with your past self—how far you’ve come. I’ve also accepted that life doesn’t have to follow a fixed script anymore. From here on, it can go in any direction. That idea—that life has to follow a strict step-by-step path—no longer makes sense to me. Now, I see that it can move in any direction. And that’s both scary and exciting.
Royesh: I’m certain that Maryam has come this far with a sense of optimism—and that optimism has brought her success. But how does she see the future from here? Is the Maryam who looks ahead still an optimist? Do you believe that 10 years from now, 20 years, 50 years—even 70 years from now—life will be better and more joyful than it is today?
Maryam: I think it’s possible. At the very least, I’m hopeful. Of course, the future depends on how the world moves forward, and when that time comes, we’ll all see where life takes us.
But for now, I choose optimism. I believe in a better tomorrow.
Royesh: What do you personally do to strengthen that sense of optimism? For example, what role do you take so that the world doesn’t just move forward by itself, but that you also contribute to making it better? How do you see your part in creating a more hopeful and positive future?
Maryam: Exactly. The reason I’m optimistic is because—well, one of my fears is that one day I might wake up and feel completely disconnected from the world. I saw this in a movie once—a lawyer who retired at 65, and when he woke up each morning, he felt like he had no purpose anymore, like there was no place left for him in the world. I never want to feel that way. That’s why, most days, I focus on staying connected to the world.
I try to stay updated with what others are doing—whether it’s new technologies or new tools people are experimenting with. I make an effort to read about them, learn, and keep myself in sync with the world—to stay engaged and involved.
Royesh: Maryam jan, I’d like to give a bit more depth and dimension to your optimism—let’s weigh it, stretch it, and explore it a little further. Where do you see yourself in this hopeful future? I mean, the world you want to live in optimistically—how confident are you that such a world is actually possible, not just for you but for others too? Many people say the future looks dark. They believe the world is moving toward more chaos and destruction. Are you one of those people? Or do you believe the world is truly moving in a better direction?
Maryam: No—not at all. I believe the world is moving in a good direction. Because there are so many people like me—Maryams—in places like this, and in Afghanistan too. Even if we haven’t had much of a role in the world until now, I’m sure we will in the future. And the world will move forward with us. There are so many people like me out there. And if all of us remain hopeful, there’s no reason the world should turn bad.
Royesh: So, the bad people in this world—they don’t scare you? There are quite a lot of them, you know.
Maryam: There are many bad people—but there are also many Maryams.
Royesh: We weren’t lacking Maryams in the past either—or do you think there were actually fewer back then?
Maryam: I think there were fewer before. But now there are more—and they’re growing, in many countries around the world.
Royesh: Let me ask you a very special question—and I hope you won’t answer it in a self-centered way. As a girl, how do you think your perspective differs from many others—those who aren’t Maryams, or aren’t girls? How much impact do you think your way of seeing the world can have in making it a more beautiful place?
Maryam: I believe my perspective really matters—because I stand in a space where I see both sides. I see the girls back in Afghanistan—their struggles, their challenges—and at the same time, I see my peers here. So whenever an opportunity comes my way, I don’t take it for granted. I never see it as something small. I always hope that the work I do can inspire others—especially those younger than me who want to follow a similar path. My perspective is always optimistic—and always facing forward, toward the future.
Royesh: Maryam, as a girl, what message do you have for boys—especially for boys in Afghanistan?
Maryam: My message isn’t the usual cliché—like support your sisters or don’t harm them. What I really want is for boys to sometimes put themselves in their sisters’ shoes. When something happens, I wish they’d try to see it from their sister’s perspective—just once. Then they’ll understand what she’s going through, what she’s feeling. Because many of them still haven’t realized that.
Royesh: And what is your message to the girls—especially the girls of Afghanistan?
Maryam: My message to the girls of Afghanistan is this: Again, I don’t want to repeat the usual clichés—like don’t lose hope or there are many opportunities. Those have already been said. What I really want to say is—don’t give up, don’t step back. Keep doing what you used to do—but maybe in new ways, through different forms. Focus on what you’re good at, what you’re passionate about. Whether it’s poetry, writing, or science—whatever it is you love, hold on to that. Think of this time as a chance. If school once forced you to focus on everything, now you can choose to go deep into one thing. For example—focus just on math.
Royesh: What is your message to the Taliban—and to all those who, like them, speak through the barrel of a gun, through violence and war?
Maryam: My message is this: give girls a chance—just once. Because the truth is, they’ve never actually given girls that chance to show what they’re capable of. Maybe the fear the Taliban have about what girls might become in the future—it’s not even real. They have no real background or evidence. If they allow girls to go to school, the outcome might even benefit them. If they looked at this with a more open mind, even just as a trial or temporary phase, it would be a good start. I think they should at least give it a try.
Royesh: And if you have something to say about hope, awareness, and the future—what would it be?
Maryam: Hope, awareness, and the future! Hope is something you wake up with every morning. It can be something very small—like hoping that the meeting you have today goes well. Awareness, I think, is something that flows through every moment— either you’re becoming aware of something new, or you’re applying what you already know. And the future—it’s something to feel excited about.
Royesh: If you were to give a short description of each place that shaped your life— The schools you attended, like the one where you spent your early childhood, Katib School, Marefat School, Abu Dhabi University, and the school you later joined in New York— If you were to give one meaningful description for each of them, something that captures what they meant to you—what would you say for each?
Maryam: The schools I went to were all very different from one another— My elementary school, my middle school at Katib, then Marefat, and later university— each of them was unique and shaped me in different ways. My elementary school taught me how to connect with people whose language I didn’t even understand—at such a young age. At Katib, I learned what a standard book looks like—what it means for something to be academically structured. Then at Marefat, what amazed me was how 4,000 students could live in such harmony and still have so many opportunities and so much success. And finally, university. The one thing all these places had in common was this: They taught me how to connect with people who are different from me—and to learn from them. That, more than anything, has been the most powerful part of my education.
Royesh: In FutureSheLeaders, we often see age 40 as a turning point — a time when our leaders step into positions of real influence and hold a seat of authority. Maryam, who is the 40-year-old you?
Where do you see yourself, and what kind of world do you imagine representing?
Maryam: The 40-year-old Maryam is someone who is no longer just informing the system — like the 25-year-old Maryam does today — but someone who is part of shaping it.
Right now, decisions are made above me, and my role is to inform and execute. But by 40, I want to be in a position of leadership — a place where I can influence major technological decisions, where I have a voice in shaping the future of artificial intelligence and other emerging technologies.
I want to be involved in big decisions, to contribute meaningfully to science and leadership.
Ruyesh: Maryam, thank you so much for sharing your story and vision with us at such a critical moment — a time when some of the most sensitive memories of our collective journey are being shaped. We’re truly grateful.
Maryam: Thank you for inviting me, Ustad! I really enjoyed this conversation.
