Samiha Khan: Leading by listening

Samiha Khan. Photo: Courtesy

There's something refreshingly candid and unfiltered in the way Samiha Khan tells her story. No grand narrative, no childhood dream of leadership, no carefully constructed arc. In fact, she begins with a confession that would make most career coaches uncomfortable: she didn't know what she wanted to do.

"I just knew I didn't want to stay in Bangladesh," she says.

And yet, it is precisely this uncertainty—combined with circumstance—that shaped her journey into becoming a director within the Daffodil International University ecosystem, part of the wider Daffodil Family. What followed wasn't a straight line, but a series of decisions grounded in curiosity, exposure, and a growing preference for action over abstraction.

Accidental beginnings

Like many stories born in the Covid-19 era, Samiha's began with disruption. Forced to return to Bangladesh during the pandemic, she found herself at a crossroads—one shaped as much by family expectations as by circumstance.

"My family has always been very clear—you have to work. Sitting at home is not an option," she recalls, recounting even the suggestion that she could work at a restaurant if nothing else came through.

At the time, Daffodil International University was launching a new teaching assistant or teaching fellow programme. For Samiha, it wasn't a calling—it was an entry point. A way to understand the very people universities are built around: students and teachers.

What she found, however, surprised her.

"I ended up doing something I never thought I would do—I started teaching."

But the classroom, it turned out, wasn't where she wanted to stay.

From theory to execution

If teaching was her introduction to the system, management became her way of reshaping it.

Within two years, Samiha transitioned out of academia's traditional track and into roles spanning marketing, branding, communications, HR, and training. The shift wasn't accidental—it was instinctive.

"I realised I don't enjoy teaching full-time. I prefer practical work—I like executing ideas."

This preference for execution over theory would later become a recurring theme—not just in her own career, but in her critique of Bangladesh's education system.

At a time when many institutions still emphasise rote learning, Samiha's focus is on application. She questions why students can recite frameworks like the "4Ps" of marketing, yet struggle to explain why a café thrives in one neighbourhood but fails in another. It's a gap she sees not just in business disciplines, but across STEM fields as well.

"CSE students know theory well, but often don't know how to actually build software," she notes.

For an institution like Daffodil International University—which operates at the intersection of education and ICT—this presents both a challenge and an opportunity.

A leadership style in progress

Samiha is quick to point out that she doesn't claim expertise in everything—and perhaps that's what defines her leadership style.

"I'm very hands-on," she says. "Even though I have my own office, I usually go sit with my team."

It's a deliberate rejection of hierarchical distance. Instead, she embraces proximity—listening to specialists, testing ideas, and iterating quickly.

"Our approach is simple: try something once—if it works, we continue; if it doesn't, we re-evaluate."

This trial-and-error mindset reflects a broader generational shift. Unlike previous leadership models that often prioritised stability and predictability, Samiha sees her generation as more attuned to broader societal impact—partly due to unprecedented access to global perspectives.

"We simply have more resources," she says, referring to the role of digital connectivity in shaping modern decision-making.

The gender question

Yet, for all the optimism surrounding young leadership, Samiha doesn't shy away from the structural realities that continue to shape outcomes—particularly for women.

Her observations are grounded in experience. As someone who has taught, interviewed, and now leads, she has seen patterns emerge.

"My best students are almost always female," she says. "But when it comes to careers, male students tend to be more structured."

"There's huge potential in Bangladesh, especially in areas like software and outsourcing—but we need better preparation, stronger industry links, and more practical training."

The reasons, she suggests, are rarely about capability—and almost always about context.

Family expectations, safety concerns, and workplace biases all play a role. Whether it's parents discouraging late working hours in tech roles, or employers hesitating to hire women due to assumptions about marriage, the barriers are both visible and invisible.

"Career success often depends on family support," she notes. "And while some people succeed without it, it shouldn't have to be that difficult."

Her ambition, however, is not limited to observation. She speaks of implementing changes—not just within Daffodil International University, but across the broader ecosystem.

After all, as she points out, women make up more than half the population. The question isn't whether change is needed—but why it hasn't happened fast enough.

The bigger picture: education and industry

Samiha's critique of the education system is matched by her awareness of global opportunity.

With rising costs in Western markets, countries like Bangladesh are increasingly positioned as outsourcing hubs for software and digital services. Yet, she remains cautious.

"Indian firms are much more aggressive," she says, highlighting the competitive gap.

For institutions like Daffodil International University, this means rethinking not just curriculum, but outcomes. Are students truly job-ready? Are industry connections strong enough? Are internships and practical experiences embedded into the learning process?

Her answer, for now, is honest: not yet.

But there are signs of movement. Career development centres exist, industry collaborations are growing, and conversations around employability are becoming more urgent.

The challenge lies in scaling these efforts—from isolated initiatives to systemic change.

Small changes, real impact

If there was a defining moment in Samiha's journey, it didn't come with a promotion or a title.

It came in an interview room.

Sitting on hiring boards, she noticed a recurring issue: candidates who were technically qualified, but unable to present themselves effectively. It was a small gap—but one with significant consequences.

"That's when I realised—this is something I understand, and something I can help fix."

Since then, her approach has been incremental. No sweeping reforms, no headline-grabbing initiatives—just small, consistent interventions.

"I'm still learning myself," she admits. "But when I see students improve, I feel like I've contributed."

Ask Samiha where she sees herself in ten years, and the answer shifts from management to impact.

She speaks of climate change research—not as an abstract field, but as something that must translate into policy and real-world implementation. She talks about increasing female representation in leadership, so that no one has to walk into a room and find themselves the only woman there.

And she wants Daffodil International University to evolve into something more than just a university—a centre of excellence for research, collaboration, and innovation.

Her vision also extends beyond institutional boundaries. She imagines stronger partnerships between private organisations, public institutions, and the Bangladeshi diaspora—an underutilised network of expertise that often remains disconnected from decision-making spaces.

"There's huge potential," she says. "We just need better coordination."

For someone in a leadership role, Samiha's willingness to admit uncertainty is perhaps her most defining trait.

"This journey is still ongoing," she says. "I don't know where it's going—but hopefully somewhere good."

It's a line that captures both the ambiguity and the promise of her generation. Less concerned with fixed destinations, more focused on movement. Less about having all the answers, more about asking better questions.

In a system that often rewards certainty, that might just be the kind of leadership Bangladesh needs next.