A Tale of Unexpected Turns and Real-Life Resilience
Recently, while watching the series Sapne vs Everyone on Amazon Prime, something inside me just….paused. It made me reflect on how we often make compromises, how we gather wisdom from wounds, and how every so-called “wrong turn” bring us closer to who we are meant to be. It reminded me: Dreams aren’t meant to be easy. They’re supposed to shake you, shape you, humble you. And that’s what makes the destination feel like a miracle.
Today, I work in an environment filled with talented colleagues from top-tier institutions i.e. IIMs, IITs, leaders who are visionaries, professionals who have set standards in every sense and I respect them immensely. In the midst of them, I often feel like the “ordinary one” – someone from an average B-school, neither fully millennial nor completely Gen Z, somewhere in between.
To be honest, I still don’t know where I belong generationally. Trends come and go, but I often feel like I’m walking backward while the world rushes forward. The more I try to blend in, the more I feel I’m leaving part of myself behind. And that’s not a feeling I can live with.
You see, I come from a time – or maybe a mindset – where life was slower, but more sincere. Where philosophy was as respected and trending as profitability. Where kindness wasn’t a branding strategy, but a way of living. Where punctuality and hard work weren’t “boomer values”, but universal virtues. And where communities were built not on claps or reels – but on connection, compassion, conversations and love.
Now, it sometimes feels like communities are built on common levels, not common values – we connect when people are from the “same league” the same salary bracket, the same social stage. Or we build friendships on “mutual benefits”. We follow each other not for who we are, but what we can offer. The intimacy of real belonging is replaced by the performance of belonging. And that….hurts.
But somewhere in the folds of this performative world, I still hold on to the community I come from – a deeply rooted Jaat family in western UP where sending a daughter for higher studies away from home in cities is still debated.
Spending on her education instead of her wedding is still questioned. And yet, here I am – an MBA graduate, standing quietly but firmly as an exception. Not a prodigy. Just a possibility.
To them, I’m someone who made it. A benchmark, A daughter who went away to study, and maybe, just maybe, changed few minds in her village. And if my journey – even with its flaws – can plot that hope in another girl’s home, then every tear, every fail, every late-night breakdown was worth it.
My journey has taken me to many cities. So when I got the offer to work in Mumbai, I said yes. Not because I was fully ready – but because I wanted to be. I wanted to observe my leaders, learn from their presence, understand what makes people thrive in tough environments. So I came. Alone.
But in my village – the idea of me, a girl, going to Mumbai alone, was a mountain. No familiar faces. No support system. No “safe” fallback.
When you’re in such situations, you become your own compass. I had to figure everything – where to live, how to navigate this overwhelming city which I have only witnessed or lived through bollywood movies. How to trust people without knowing if you really can.
While exploring my accommodation options on flat n flatmates, I found a listing posted by a decent girl. The room was in Sion and rent was within reach. For someone starting out from scratch, affordability is not a choice – it’s the only way forward. So, I started my due diligence within my limitations- I checked her LinkedIn profile, stayed in touch for almost 15 days. I even spoke to another flat mate – who happened to be a distant acquaintance – and she gave a green signal. Apparently, the girl had to vacate before her lock-in period and she was looking for someone to replace her (the backstory I wasn’t aware of until I actually shifted). She started creating pressure that other girls are interested and asked me to confirm soon. Her urgency felt a little off, but I told myself – this is Mumbai and everything moves fast. So, believing in what I saw, I transferred the token money and deposit directly to the girl, as the owner had instructed.
The videos of the flat looked okay. Nothing lavish, but I didn’t want lavish. I just wanted a space which I could call mine – a place to clean, decorate, maybe put up fairy lights, and put up scented candles in evening while I read. But the videos didn’t show the ceiling. And I didn’t know to ask. Because I’d never had to question ceilings before.
On 10th Sept’2022- Ganpati season, when monsoon was in full swing in Mumbai. I boarded the flight from Delhi to Mumbai to witness the environment of Mumbai during Ganpati season. My eyes were full of hope, capturing every moment of that journey. The morning sky. The changing landscapes. I remember thinking, “This is the beginning of my becoming”.
My brother came with me to help me settle in. Fortunately, we had company provided accommodation for 10 days as a part of my relocation. In evening, we decided to see the place and reached at the location shared by the owner’s broker. He met us there. And as he opened the door to the room I had paid for – my heart sank.
The ceiling was leaking. Not a small leak. Water was dripping constantly from the roof right onto the bed area. The cement looked soft. Chunks had already fallen off. It was unsafe. It was shocking.
I stood there frozen, looking at it. My brother started arguing with the broker. But I wasn’t angry – I was numb. I couldn’t process what was happening. All I kept thinking was, Why didn’t she tell me? How could she let someone walk into this?
I’ve always been an empathetic and compassionate person – some might even call me dramatic. But does that make me weak? Perhaps. Yet, I know I will survive and continue to smile. I choose to believe in what I see rather than suspect hidden agendas. I trust people, thinking, “why spoil my mental peace by doubting others?”. This approach however, often leads to hurt when prioritizing others over myself.
My mother and brother always advised me to be cautious while living alone, to not trust everyone blindly. But I believed that to become part of a community, one must trust those around them. So it never occurred to me to judge someone harshly. Unfortunately, this mindset sometimes results in personal pain.
The room I had seen in pictures turned out to have window opening into Dharavi, inside a lane behind railway tracks. The main door was dusty, and the building was two stories high, with my room on the top floor. The staircase was so narrow, making it difficult to carry my luggage upstairs. If I had been that child I was back then who was extremely pampered by her father , I might have thrown a tantrum. But after losing my father at an age of 11 and witnessing my mother’s resilience, I learned to value hard work and self-dependence over comfort.
Despite speaking to the girl for over 15 days, she never mentioned this issue and now, I was standing there, holding back my tears, thinking about how disappointed my mother and brother would be seeing me living in such conditions. There was an option to forgo the ₹55,000 (₹50,000 deposit + ₹5,000 token money) and find a better place. My brother urged me to leave, but I consoled him, saying I would manage. I didn’t want to lose the money and higher rent would strain my savings.
Determined to make the best of the situation, I devised a temporary fix. I asked the broker to cover the roof with a tarpaulin sheet daily to prevent water from entering. I also pasted a plastic sheet on the ceiling and around the fan to stop the leakage. While staying in hotel, I would visit the flat every evening after work to remove accumulated water and clean the room.
I negotiated with owner to reduce the rent due to the inconvenience, and he agreed to lower it to ₹12,500 per month. I comforted myself, thinking I only had to endure this for a month until the monsoon ended. Once the 6-month lock-in period was over, I planned to find a better place while saving money.
I cleaned and decorated the room as much as possible, sharing pictures with my mother and brother, assuring them it was sunny and there was no rain. For almost a month, it became a routine to clean the water after returning from the office.
Image 2&3: Pictures I shared with my family, telling them it’s manageable
I prayed daily for the Mumbai rains to stop, which I now cherish because they bring comfort and ease. But when life isn’t going well, everything seems bleak. It’s natural. The key is to accept things as they are.
In hopes of finding a better place without compromising my savings, I chose to struggle voluntarily. However, the situation worsened during the months of February and March when termites started emerging from behind the wardrobes at night, making the environment extremely unhygienic.
Realizing I couldn’t continue living in such conditions, I finalized a new place, which turned out to be my best choice in Mumbai. I transformed it into my dream home, and it became so appealing that my broker is now using it as a catalogue for display.
You might think I was tricked – and that I must harbor resentment toward those who caused me distress. Yes, I was hurt. Deeply. But as my mother wisely says, some people are born not to walk alongside us, but to teach us lessons. Their minds are wired that way – not out of cruelty, but perhaps out of conditioning or self-preservation. And when we carry that understanding, we carry less bitterness and more clarity.
Through this experience, I learned more than just how to survive this chaos. I learned how to survive life’s chaos:-
- How to turn discomfort into direction.
- How to find satisfaction in what I have.
- How to lead with grace, not reaction.
- How to protect myself without becoming cynical.
- That pain doesn’t make you weak – it makes you real.
Because when life feels difficult, everything feels difficult. And, that’s normal. The real strength is not to be happy all the time – it’s in honestly acknowledging what you feel, and still choosing to move forward, even if it’s slowly.
So, if you’re reading this and going through something – know this:
You don’t have to “fix it all” today. You don’t have to “be okay” all the time. You just have to be honest with yourself. Take the next breath. The next step. And slowly, you’ll come out stronger – not in the way world measures strength, but in the quiet, powerful way only you will know.