JOURNAL ENTRY 5 - MAY 2026

Today, as I sit with gratitude for the women who shaped my life, my heart returns—again and again—to my grandmother, Devi. Her name meant goddess, and she embodied that truth not through grandeur, but through a quiet, steady force that helped shape the very architecture of who I am.

She was a woman who lived in contrasts that somehow made perfect sense: practical yet bold, humble yet unshakeable, gentle yet fierce in her convictions. She believed in honesty, intellect, and the power of community. She believed that women deserved the freedom to learn, to choose, and to imagine a life beyond the boundaries that were already drawn for them.

Long before I understood the magnitude of her choices, she had already begun rewriting the story for the women in our family. As a young girl, she left her village in India to pursue an education—an act of courage that, at that time, must have felt like stepping into the unknown, but would have a ripple effect through generations. She marched alongside Gandhi as a Freedom Fighter, trusting that nonviolence could reshape a nation. When the protests led to eight months in jail, she did not return defeated, but with dignity. She treated hardship as a lesson rather than a punishment and preparation for the future. She believed deeply in fighting for a future her village deserved.

In her fifties, she left India once more—this time for the United States—choosing family as her compass. In the Bay Area, she became a teacher, a storyteller, and a keeper of culture. She taught children to read and write Gujarati, but she taught me something far greater: how to live with purpose. How to root yourself in your values and to carry your heritage with pride, even while stepping boldly into new worlds.

Even as Parkinson’s disease challenged her body, her spirit never wavered. Those years were some of her most profound teachings. She showed me that resilience is not loud, it is steady. She taught me patience – not the passive kind – but is the kind that strengthens you from within. She taught me to think beyond the limits others place on you. She shared recipes, stories, and wisdom that shaped the way I see the world. She showed me that strength and softness are not opposites – they are partners.

I didn’t grow up dreaming of becoming an architect or designing hotels. But hospitality—the true kind, the human kind—was already in me because of her. She created spaces where people felt seen, held, and cared for. She lived in hospitality long before I studied it. She taught me that the most meaningful spaces are not just built; they are felt.

She inspired me to dream bigger and pursue opportunities that once felt unattainable for women in my family. Because of her, I went to college, lived in other countries, and earned a graduate degree. And unknowingly, I became a quiet signal to other women in my cultural community—showing them that they, too, could step forward, step out, and step into dreams that once felt out of reach.

When I think of the obstacles my grandmother overcame, I am humbled by the path she carved. Her grit and determination taught me to recognize my own inner strength and pursue a career that allows me to be my authentic self—combining analytical rigor with creative expression, while helping guide and shape my firm’s strategic vision as we enter a new chapter.

Her lessons continue to guide how I lead, how I mentor, and how I design. They remind me that every space—physical or emotional—has the potential to embrace someone, to make them feel safe, and to encourage their growth. Leadership, I’ve learned, requires boldness, patience, and humility all at once. When we ground our leadership in empathy, collaboration, and the balance of precision and vision, we create environments that are inclusive, intentional, and impactful.

I strive to build a more equitable and representative model of leadership, one that expands opportunities for those ready to move forward, especially women. My grandmother was my first example of what it means to lift others as you rise. I hope to carry that forward.

Today, I am profoundly grateful that her legacy lives through me. I am grateful that her wisdom—along with my mother’s—shaped my character and instilled in me a deep belief in mentorship and unwavering support. They were my first village: the people who held me, guided me, and taught me to trust my own voice. Their influence echoes through every choice I make.

Devi means goddess. I was lucky to call her mine.

And to every girl and woman reading this: May you dream beyond the horizon you’ve been shown. May you seek the mentors who see your potential before you do. May you honor the women who designed you. And may you become that woman for someone else.