Suhail Khan
Srinagar, July 16: The results flashed on her phone at 10 pm. Aiman Showkat stared at the screen, then refreshed it. Once. Twice. Three times. Rank 5. It was only then that the 19-year-old from Bandipora allowed herself to believe it.
No coaching centre. No crash course. No 16-hour study marathons. Just a smartphone, a YouTube app, and what she calls “efficient study.”
“I did not take any coaching. I studied from YouTube — different teachers for different subjects,” Aiman told The Web Story/The Varmul Post.
The daughter of a middle-class family from Kharpora village, she completed Class 10 at Army Goodwill School Bandipora before moving to Hyderabad for Classes 11 and 12. But unlike the over 2 million aspirants who flock to Kota and other coaching hubs each year, she refused to follow the herd.
“There was no fixed timetable. We would wake up for prayers, have lunch, and then sit for studies. Seven to eight hours of efficient study worked best for me,” she said.
Her approach, she insists, was shaped by the exam’s changing grammar. “Earlier, Physics and Chemistry were formula-based. Now, conceptual questions are coming. Build your concepts and focus more on question practice. That is the key.”
Thursday night, her modest house in Kharpora swelled with neighbours and relatives. Sleep, she said, was impossible. “I was praying for a rank under 5, and Alhamdulillah, I got it. Everyone was very happy.”
Her success arrives at a moment when the NEET-UG examination has become a lightning rod for debates on equity and access. The coaching industry, valued at over Rs 58,000 crore, has built an empire on the premise that without professional help, success is unattainable. Crash courses — often costing between Rs 50,000 and Rs 5 lakh — have become the default route for anxious parents.
“First, you have to trust yourself. Don’t pay too much attention to what people say. Just work hard. And when you work hard with passion, dedication, and consistency, there will definitely be a fruitful result,” she said.
For countless girls across the Valley — and beyond — who are often told to temper their ambitions, Aiman Showkat has already become something more than a topper. She has become a rebuttal. In an increasingly expensive education marketplace, her journey is a reminder that self-belief, sometimes, remains the only currency that matters.
