“I’ve always believed that life doesn’t reveal its strength in moments of calm, but in the storms that break you open. I’m Shreya, born and raised in Chennai, a Punjabi by roots but a Madrasi by heart. This city has been my compass, my comfort, and my teacher.

I currently lead digital, social, and content marketing for one of the leading paint brands in India, but I’ve never liked describing myself just by my job. I’ve always been a creator, someone who finds joy in words, visuals, stories, and ideas. Over the last decade, I’ve worked with brands big and small, written scripts, led campaigns, and built narratives that connect. Creating is where I feel most like myself.

But life, as I’ve learned, has a way of shaking your sense of direction just when you think you’ve got it figured out. My first big jolt came when I joined one of the biggest software companies in Chennai after eight rounds of interviews. Everyone said it was the dream job, the kind people chase for years. Three weeks in, I realised that the dream didn’t feel like mine. I had comfort but not creativity. I had money but no meaning. So I left.

Soon after, I married my childhood sweetheart, someone who has been my mirror and my anchor for over fifteen years. He has seen me through every phase, from ambition to heartbreak, from self-doubt to self-love, and has been part of every version of my healing and growth. Just a week after our wedding, life tested us both in a way we never imagined.

During a trek in Shimoga, Karnataka, I slipped and broke my tibia into two. The pain was unbearable. I was carried down the hill in the dark, my leg broken, every bump on the road echoing through me as we searched for a hospital in that small town. It was horrific, both physically and emotionally. But that night, something inside me changed.

In the silence of recovery, I met myself again, not the achiever, not the planner, but the human. When you have to depend on others to do the simplest things, you start to understand what truly matters. I had two choices: to give up or to rebuild. And inspired by Kobe Bryant’s Mamba mentality, I chose the latter, to just be better than yesterday. I learned to walk again, then to run, then to play. Slowly, I returned to badminton, then discovered pickleball, then fell in love with strength training. Every small win felt like magic. Somewhere in that journey, I made up my mind to never say no to new experiences, because you never know which one will change you next.

Through all of it, Chennai stayed my constant. The sound of autos, the smell of filter coffee, the chaos of Mount Road, the calm of Marina, they all carried me through recovery like familiar lullabies. This city reminds me that simplicity is strength. It doesn’t demand attention, it earns it quietly, just like the people who live here.

And if there’s one person who taught me how to live that way, it’s my father. I’m a carbon copy of him in looks, anger, strength, and selflessness. I’ve grown up watching him lead with quiet dignity, helping people without ever expecting anything in return. During the pandemic, when many chose profit over kindness, he chose to help. He believes that good karma always comes back, and I’ve seen it happen through him. He is my biggest inspiration, and everything I aspire to be: strong, giving, and deeply human.

My journey hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been mine, filled with falls, climbs, and quiet comebacks. You learn, you fall, but eventually, you grow, and that’s what keeps me going.

Because growth, I’ve learned, isn’t about how fast you rise. It’s about how deeply you rebuild yourself every time life brings you to your knees.”