Meet Abdur

Life isn’t a straight path—it’s a winding road filled with obstacles, detours, and, if you’re lucky, a few miracles. My name is AbdurRehman Khawaja, but most people call me Abdur. I’m a digital branding artist based in Toronto, helping artists, small businesses, and corporations craft their online presence. But before I became the creative entrepreneur I am today, my journey was one of survival, reinvention, and relentless pursuit of purpose.

Born in Pakistan into a joint family system, I was never alone. Love and support surrounded me, my home was filled with laughter, and every meal was a shared experience. But early in life, I was dealt a card that would test my resilience—a congenital heart condition that required immediate surgery. At the time, Pakistan lacked the medical facilities to treat me. So, my family waited, hoping for a miracle. And at the age of six, it arrived.

With the support of family abroad and The House of Charity, we were sponsored to seek treatment in the United States. In the blink of an eye, we left everything behind—our family, our home, our belongings—to step into the unknown. Thankfully, the surgery was a success. I had a new chance at life. But survival was just the first challenge. Now, in a foreign land, we had to start from scratch. My father worked tirelessly, juggling jobs and night classes, determined to build a stable future. We had gone from a vast family network to a handful of unfamiliar faces. Yet, we adapted. We built new bonds, leaned on each other, and learned to navigate this new world.

Then, life threw another curveball. I needed another surgery, but this time, there was no charity to help us. It was on us to figure it out. Just as we braced for the next battle, miracle number two arrived—our immigration process was accepted, opening the doors to Canada. And so, in our trusty 2001 Toyota Corolla, we drove across borders toward a new beginning.

Canada brought stability, but it also brought loneliness. No extended family, no safety net—just us. But if there’s one thing I had learned, it was that adversity is just an invitation to rise. I pushed myself in school, determined to make something of myself. Eventually, I earned a degree in Public Health and Safety from Toronto Metropolitan University. I had my education, my health, and a world of opportunities ahead.

During university, I dabbled in reselling electronics, always testing gadgets before selling them. One day, I got my hands on a Canon Rebel T5. I didn’t know how to test a camera, so I played with it—and something clicked. Photography became my voice when words failed me. That camera? I never sold it. Instead, I fell in love with capturing moments, emotions, and stories. But a hobby isn’t a career—or so I thought.

After graduation, I landed my first job as a safety professional in a manufacturing plant. It was a disaster. Management refused to let me do the job they hired me for, and within a month, I was let go for standing my ground. Disillusioned and lost, I questioned my entire career choice. But then, miracle number three—after six months of job hunting, I landed a role at Amazon’s largest robotic fulfillment center in Canada. I had made it. Or so I thought.

Despite my success, something felt off. I spent my breaks reflecting on Amazon’s empire, wondering what made it thrive. I craved ownership, autonomy, and the ability to build something of my own. That’s when I stumbled upon digital marketing—the perfect blend of creativity and business. It was my chance to merge my artistic passion with a sustainable career. So, I did the unthinkable: I left my job and enrolled in a digital marketing program at the University of Toronto. People doubted me, I doubted myself, but I pressed forward.

Then, miracle number four—I landed a digital marketing role at Canadian Tire Corporation. I took a pay cut, but I didn’t care. I was in the right space, learning, growing, and building something meaningful. When the pandemic hit, the world stopped, but I kept moving. It was during this time that I realized—having a job and a hobby wasn’t enough. I needed to own something. So I founded Abdur Media, as way to express myself, grow my community and make an impact.

At first, I worked for free or for pennies, just to get my name out there. Then, tragedy struck. Within two years, I suffered two strokes that shook me to my core. My body recovered, but my mind spiraled. Depression hit hard. I questioned everything. And when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I was let go from my job. I sat in my room, staring at the ceiling, drowning in an existential crisis.

But rock bottom has a way of giving you clarity. I reminded myself that everything happens for a reason. I doubled down on my health, my mind, and my purpose. I went from walking to sprinting, from feeling lost to feeling driven. With nothing but a failing business, limited funds, and unwavering courage, I bet on myself. I invested in new gear, sharpened my skills, and went back to school for project management to truly learn how to run a business.

And then, things started clicking. I networked, created, shared my work—and clients took notice. I began working with people who saw my vision and valued my art. I was finally doing it—living my dream, on my terms. But this is just the beginning. If I want this to be sustainable, I have to go all in. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.

My journey has been anything but conventional—filled with setbacks, leaps of faith, and unexpected miracles. But through it all, one lesson stands above the rest: take ownership of your life. Align your work with your soul, and you’ll never feel empty. I’m just getting started, and if my story tells you anything, it’s that you can too.

Take the leap with me and follow my journey as I strive to become a self-sustaining entrepreneur.