Finding My Voice
I’ve always known I wanted to be a designer. The instincts for beauty, form, and detail came naturally. But building a brand—finding the words, shaping the story—that was harder.
When I was in college, I handed a paper to someone I admired. He told me, gently but directly, that it wasn’t good. I remember the flush of embarrassment, the sting of being seen as less than I wanted to be. And he was right.
Not because I had nothing to say, but because I hadn’t yet learned how to listen to myself. I was still too quiet. Too afraid of taking up space. So much so that I couldn’t even hear what I truly felt.
But I didn’t stop. I wrote badly, and then a little less badly. I journaled, I asked for help, I kept going. And slowly, my voice began to emerge—not polished at first, but real.
And somewhere along the way, writing became more than just a skill. It became a way of seeing. A way of noticing what I was too busy to feel. A way of staying honest.
Design may have been what I was born knowing. But writing is what has grown me.
That’s why, at Bhansali, the connection runs deeper than the pieces. It’s in the words too—in the reflections, in the voice, in the attempt to put into language what beauty really means in a life.
It makes me think: how different things would be if I had let the fear of being “bad” stop me from trying.
Because finding your voice—whether in design, in art, in love, in life—rarely comes from getting it right. It comes from being brave enough to keep showing up, again and again, until something true begins to take shape.
