I come from a lineage of movement shaped by rebuilding, belonging, and becoming in new worlds.

I grew up as the child of immigrants, shaped not just by where my family came from, but by the ways they learned to adapt and begin again.

My mother was born in East Africa, raised by parents who had migrated from India and were acclimating to an entirely new world. Adaptation was woven into her childhood. My father lived through migration himself and helped his own family resettle; experiencing firsthand what it means to start again in an unfamiliar place.

In our home, resilience wasn’t something we talked about. It was the atmosphere; the backdrop of daily life. I learned early how to hold multiple truths, hear every side, and navigate complexity with empathy.

I was a deep, emotional child, absorbing the subtle scripts that came with being Indian, a girl, and a “middle child.” I internalized a lot about who I was supposed to be, often quieting my own instincts because it felt safer than contradicting expectation.

Achievement became my navigation system.

Top schools, global companies, a COO role; all the markers of success I believed would ground me.

But the closer I got to the life I thought I was supposed to want, the further I drifted from myself. Achievement gave me belonging, but it also blurred my inner voice. And eventually, the distance between who I was and who I was becoming became impossible to ignore.

Stepping away was the beginning of coming home to myself. I moved through cycles of intentional experimentation and iteration to hear my own voice again.

And all of this — the lineage, the striving, the unraveling, the rebuilding — it's my story.

It's the foundation for how I now move in the world.