The woman I am today has been shaped by a deep curiosity about how systems work — and more importantly, who they work for.

I have been shaped by an early awareness that power is not evenly distributed and that for many women, it is not just distant, but often invisible. Growing up, I did not see enough women in positions where decisions were being made. And when I began stepping into policy spaces myself — working with Members of Parliament, ministries, and senior bureaucrats — I realised that the absence I had sensed was not imagined. The rooms where power sits are still not built for everyone.

But instead of being discouraged by that, I became deeply curious about it. My experiences gave me proximity to these systems, but they also sharpened my understanding of exclusion — who gets to speak, who gets heard, and who is expected to simply navigate around the system rather than shape it.

It began with a quiet but persistent discomfort — the realisation that there was an entire architecture of decision-making shaping our lives, and yet most people, especially women, were never shown how to access it.

There was not a single defining moment. It was a series of realisations that kept building on each other — each experience, each room, each conversation reinforcing the same truth: the gap between women and leadership in policy is not about capability, it is about access.

That realisation stayed with me. And over time, it stopped feeling like an observation and started feeling like a responsibility. Building SheCivic India, working closely with institutions, and creating conversations through my podcast are all ways of responding to that responsibility — attempts to make the invisible visible, to demystify power, to create entry points, and to ensure that more women do not just observe governance, but actively participate in shaping it.

I serve young women who are curious about power, policy, and leadership but have never been given a clear pathway into these spaces. I see my work as building bridges for them — not just into policy spaces, but into a sense of belonging within those spaces.

Through SheCivic India and the conversations I curate through my podcast, I help create a transformation that goes beyond skill-building. It is a shift from hesitation to participation, from observing governance to actively engaging with it, and from feeling like an outsider to recognising oneself as a stakeholder in decision-making.

What makes my approach distinct is that I do not treat access as a one-time opportunity — I treat it as an ecosystem. I focus on sustained engagement: creating communities, nurturing confidence, providing exposure, and building continuity. It is not just about placing individuals into systems, but about ensuring they feel equipped, supported, and seen enough to stay and lead.

One of the most important shifts I had to make was moving from seeking permission to claiming space.

Early on, even when I found myself in rooms with policymakers and decision-makers, there was a quiet hesitation within me — a question of whether I truly belonged there. Not because I lacked capability, but because I had internalised the idea that these spaces were meant for a certain kind of person, and I was still ‘on my way’ to becoming that.

Over time, I realised that this belief itself was the barrier. I had to unlearn the need to wait — for validation, for the right moment, for someone to tell me I was ready. Stepping into this role required me to trust my voice even when it felt uncomfortable, to ask questions even when I was unsure, and to show up fully even when I felt like I was still figuring things out.

Some of the hardest moments in my journey were never visible — they existed in the quiet spaces between the milestones.

Building something like SheCivic India came with a constant internal negotiation between belief and doubt. There were phases where I questioned whether I truly belonged in the rooms I was entering, or whether I was ‘ready enough’ to lead something in a space as complex as public policy.

A significant challenge was navigating the invisibility of effort. A lot of the work — building relationships, earning trust, reaching out to stakeholders, sustaining a community — happens without immediate recognition. Showing up consistently, especially when growth felt slow or intangible, required a kind of discipline that is not often acknowledged publicly.

There was also a quieter form of resistance: being overlooked in conversations, having my intent questioned, or needing to establish credibility repeatedly. These were not overt barriers, but they demanded emotional resilience and composure. What helped me navigate these moments was anchoring myself in purpose. I kept returning to the reason I started — to make policy spaces more accessible and to ensure that others do not feel as out of place as I once did.

A few months ago, I received a message from a young woman who had been quietly part of the SheCivic community. She was not someone who attended every session or spoke up often — but she had been consistently listening, observing, and learning. In her message, she shared that for the first time, she felt like policy was not meant only for a certain kind of person.

That line stayed with me. Because in policy, we often talk about representation in terms of numbers — how many young people, how many women, how many voices. But what that message reminded me is that representation also begins with a sense of permission — the belief that you are allowed to take up space in these rooms, conversations, and decisions.

Sometimes the most meaningful impact is not visible in large milestones, but in quiet shifts — when someone moves from feeling like an outsider to seeing themselves as a participant in shaping policy.

I consciously choose to be a leader who is accessible, intentional, and grounded in empathy. To me, leadership is not about authority — it is about responsibility. It is about creating environments where people feel seen, heard, and capable of contributing meaningfully, regardless of where they are starting from.

I refuse to become someone who equates leadership with gatekeeping — who withholds access, operates through exclusivity, or derives authority from being unapproachable. For me, leadership is strongest when it is human. It allows space for learning, for uncertainty, and for others to grow alongside you.

Earlier, success felt like access — being in the right rooms, working with the right people. Today, success feels very different. It is less about where I am, and more about what I am building. I measure it by whether my work is creating access for others, making policy more understandable, and enabling more young people and women to see themselves in governance.

I am currently focused on building SheCivic India into a more structured and accessible ecosystem for women in policy and governance. The next chapter is about moving from community to continuity — creating clear pathways through fellowships, learning spaces, and opportunities that do not just introduce women to policy, but support them in staying and growing within it.

I hope my work made entry into policy and governance feel less intimidating and more accessible for women. That it reduced the uncertainty of ‘where do I begin?’ and replaced it with clearer pathways and support systems. If the work makes these spaces a little more open, a little more inclusive, and a little more human for the women who come after, that would be the legacy I hope to leave behind.