Something changed in the world of work.

You used to be able to stand out from the crowd by the virtue of your work, your product or your service. 

You could manage to focus on two things, 
the work itself and building great relationships, 
with your clients, customers or your peers.

You could get away by saying, 
“work will speak for itself.”

But something changed.

The attention economy came in and 
set new rules for this world.

On one hand it created access for people and young brands to stand out on merit rather than influential connections or deep pockets for advertising and marketing.

On the other hand, it made it extremely tough to stand out by just your ‘work’.

It’s 2026 and it’s tough out there.

It’s tough in this noise when everyone else is shouting.
It’s tougher when everyone else is shouting ‘me, me, me…’ 
It’s the toughest when your voice has no value for others.

Today, most brands, company or personal, 
have fallen prey to this noise.

In an effort to ‘guarantee’ success, they’ve started to copy and replicate others who’ve already been there and done that. Without considering the consequences of this ‘me too’ methodology.

The answer lies beyond, ‘Been There Done That’.
It lies in, Be There Do That.

What worked for them may not necessarily work for you.
It’s one thing to get inspired, and another to imitate.

The difference between some brands succeeding and many failing is the way they differentiate them from the rest. Doesn’t matter if it’s a personal brand or a company brand.

It’s easy to stand out when there is no one else like you.

If you create your own category you set the rules, not your competitors. It’s time to take control and stand out in this attention deficit world.

The path is simple, yet not easy.
It starts by mining your unique voice and ends with maximizing its value to your audience.

The path is simple enough, just not easy!
If you need help, ask me.


Archit Raj Thapar

Hello, Connections,

Thank you for visiting my profile.

With over 5 years of industrial experience as a microbiologist and more than 13 years of consulting expertise in Product and System Management Standard certification, I have honed my skills in implementation, documentation, and training for organizations at all levels.

However, my life took a beautiful turn when I embraced motherhood, just like many others.

It ignited a deep passion for storytelling, leading me to launch my own podcast called @Story Tales. 

Through this endeavor, I have discovered a new identity for my voice and an immense love for captivating narratives. 

Today, I am a multitasking professional who excels in various aspects of content creation, including content writing, social media management, translation, dubbing, podcast production and distribution, voice-overs, and more.

Storytelling has not only brought joy and fulfillment to my life but has also taught me the art of engaging and meaningful communication.

My journey has been marked by creating award-winning podcasts that resonate with listeners, fostering brand credibility, and establishing personal authority. 🚀

As a full-time mother and an enthusiastic Solopreneur, I cherish my dual role. 

I am blessed with two beautiful daughters who not only bring joy but also appreciate and respect my dedication to my profession. I am a storyteller who can write, tell, and understand your story. 

I have the ability to craft compelling narratives, convey them with passion and authenticity, and empathize with the experiences of others.

If you need captivating stories or assistance in any of the mentioned areas, I am here to bring your ideas to life. Now I am official podcaster for all kinds of podcast. 

In my role as the host of ADFAR Tech Venture, I have produced and distributed compelling content for the IT tech and solution provider industry. 

My passion for podcasting has led me to become a sought-after Podcast Coach and Consultant.

Currently, I am actively managing very good assignments in storytelling, content creation, brand management, and podcasting with reputable organizations. 

If you are looking for someone to bring your stories to life, build your brand's identity, or create impactful podcast content, I am here to collaborate and make it happen. 

Let's connect and explore the possibilities!

Check out my kids' storytelling podcast: Storytales https://story-tales.hubhopper.com/

For blogs and write-ups: https://medium.com/@storytales22

For all kinds of projects: https://linktr.ee/Sonal_22

Sonal Shah

Yesterday, not just yesterday, but many times, I’ve been asked one question.
And today, I’m finally sharing my answer. Yes, you can correct me if I’m wrong.

Are Degrees Important for a Content Writer?

Many people ask me, will you understand our product, process, or people?
So here’s my answer to all of you. I know I’m not a writer by degree, I’m a writer by passion. Maybe a degree can open doors, but it can’t teach you how to hold someone’s attention.  It can’t teach you rhythm, empathy, or the art of making words feel human.

Similarly, a degree might teach you how to write, but it’ll never teach you what’s worth writing. I’ve seen many people who are far more qualified than me, maybe they know grammar, structure, and storytelling frameworks better than I do,  but not how to make someone stop scrolling and feel something.

Because real writing doesn’t live in textbooks. It lives in curiosity. 
In the way you observe people.
In how deeply you listen before you type a single word.

The best writers don’t just know how to write well,
they feel what should be written.

As we all know, education gives you the foundation, 
but experience is the pulse.

Real writers read the silence in between.
They understand how people think, buy, dream, and doubt.
And no degree in the world can measure that instinct.

And if you look back, 
Shakespeare never had a formal degree, yet he defined storytelling for centuries. 

Tagore walked away from formal schooling, yet became India’s poetic soul. 

Premchand never held a literature degree, yet his words shaped our social conscience.

Mark Twain left school at 12, but his words became the conscience of America.

Charles Dickens had no university education, yet he shaped human empathy through fiction.

R.K. Narayan turned ordinary moments into timeless stories without a formal writing background.

Even Maya Angelou, who never went to college, wrote verses that healed generations.

They all wrote not from certificates, but from life.
From pain, observation, and truth.

A degree proves you can learn.
But your portfolio proves you understand, and that’s far more important.

Writing isn’t about qualifications.
It’s about connection.
It’s about translating thoughts into feelings, and feelings into action.
And that’s not something any syllabus can define.

So, if you’re hiring writers , don’t look for degrees. 
Look for impact. For voice. For words that stay with you.

And if you’re the one writing, stop doubting your worth because of what’s missing on your résumé. Your experience is your degree. 
Your body of work is your certification.

A degree can teach you to write.
But only life teaches you why.

Sonal Snehal Shah

The Mom Who Turns Life Into Lines | Ghostwriter l Social Media Strategist / Podcast Host & Producer | Voice Translation & Dubbing Enthusiast Recorded 5 Podcast / with 1.5 lacs downloads / 57 countries.

Yesterday I was making dhokla.
Added Eno to make it fluffy and spongy.

My daughter asked,
“Why Eno?”

Before I could answer, she said,
“Is this why Gujarati people have big stomachs?”

I froze.

She continued, very thoughtfully:
“Because dhokla is soft and fluffy … so stomach also becomes soft and fluffy?”

I tried explaining fermentation.
Air pockets. 
Texture.

She said,
“So basically… Eno makes dhokla fluffy.
And fluffy food makes fluffy tummy.”

The dhokla came out perfect.
My reputation did not.

Moral of the story: 
In Gujarati households,
Eno doesn’t just work on batter.
It works on lifelong stereotypes.
And no explanation will ever save you.

People in Afghanistan are crazy about kite flying, but the Taliban had banned it. They considered flying kites to be against religion. 

Despite the strict ban, some people still flew kites in secret. 
One boy was flying a black kite from the roof of his house on a cold night. 

A soldier saw him and asked,
“Flying kites is strictly forbidden here. Then, why are you still flying one?”

The boy replied,
“When the kite flies, my heart flies with it.”

The soldier let him go and said, “Fly one kite for me too.”
Even a soldier understood that some things are too human to ban.

That is what Uttarayan teaches.
Not every string is meant to be pulled tight. Some dreams need space to move. Some people need room to breathe. Some relationships fall apart not because there was no love, but because there was no slack. And still, the sky keeps a corner reserved just for your joy.
No matter how heavy life feels below.

I read it, Once Anaïs Nin said it best:
“Let your dreams fly free like kites. You never know what they may bring back for you.”

Today Lets wish, the bravest thing is not holding on harder. It is trusting what you love enough to let it rise. 🪁

Happy Kite flying day.

There were, more than 20 people on the terrace. I’m often seen as composed between that groups, the reason, I never showcase or I even dont find the need too. But most importantly. They know me as good Professional. Measured. Certain. But this is also me. 
Sitting on the floor. Hands in flour.
Making Bajri rotla the way it’s always been made.

No this was not performance. 

Many people say I can’t. Lets picture it , and we will show to everyone, that you can't. But they look at the surface and decide the depth.

My husband doesn’t explain me to them. He simply says,
 “You don’t know her. She’s the best at this.”
And that’s enough.

Because the most meaningful validations never come from crowds.
They come from the one person who has seen you in all your forms
and still knows who you are.

Some people are born into big stories.
Some spend years trying to build one.
And some are suddenly pushed into a story they never planned for.

If you look closely, the best stories don’t start with ambition.
They start with interruption.
A moment that wasn’t convenient.
A responsibility that wasn’t asked for.
A turn in the plot that forced a decision.

Most people don’t feel ready in those moments. 
May be I didn’t.
And maybe you didn’t either.
But that’s the strange thing about stories and about life.

You don’t become the main character by preparing endlessly.
You become one by staying in the story when it gets hard.

Greatness isn’t dramatic.
It doesn’t announce itself.
It shows up, in the choice to continue, even when walking away would be easier.

When I got married, I believed real love meant being each other’s everything.
Everyday roses, chocolates, and that Hindi movie–wala drama of love and kisses. But real life is very different.
It’s not that we hadn’t seen our parents, neighbors, and others.
We just never believed ours would also be made of everyday struggles.

Our's also the routine kind, no, nothing special, most of the time, the conversation starts with:
Sometimes he say,
 “Did you lock the door?”
 Sometimes me,
 “I packed your lunch.”

 Sometimes it’s simply,
 “Let’s do this together. Let’s go together”

And now it’s,
 “How are the kids?”
 “Homework done?”
 “How was the parents / teacher's’ meeting?”
 “How are mummy and papa?”

And sometimes, just the familiar silence.

After passing years together, Now I know real love means being each other’s safe place. We never say “I love you” at night, neither in the morning. But while leaving the home, his eyes are searching for me. When I am at client's space, he asks me have you taken the lunch, when I am tired, he say kids to not to talk loud or do not disturb me. 

That’s how the real love shows up here.

He doesn’t try to fix me. I don’t try to fix him.
Many times, we disagree, disconnect and then give each other the space. 

To recognize that love needs breathing too. 
It means we have learned how to return. To ourselves. To each other.

And now we knew that our relationship isn’t built on romance.
It’s built on practice.

Our differences taught us patience and empathy at large. 
Not to fix each other but how to listen.

We both has different with dreams, fears, and egos too, but then we also knows that we are two very different people too. We didn’t merge into one identity. We built a partnership between two whole individuals.

Without reshaping each other, without shrinking ourselves, we grew slowly, imperfectly, but together. 

Happy anniversary to us.
Grateful for a life still in progress, with shared jokes, unresolved arguments, small hugs, mistakes, and second chances. Real love doesn’t shout to be seen. It stays, shows up, and becomes home.

“𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁.”

When I had my first child, I used to tell myself, that I am doing this for her.  
The late office works. The skipped lunch to go early at home.
The constant rush. The exhaustion we normalize.
Because providing feels like love.

But within an year, I understood, this is race and I do not want to be part of it. Because for me love is simply presence. physically, emotionally and mentally. Not one who is financially present.

It is showing up when the child needs your hands, your lap and moreover, the warmth, that says I am here for you, always.
It is being there for the stories that do not wait.
It is listening when the day was hard and the world felt big.

Mothers feel this in their bones. I still remember when I used to come home, she used to dance on the door, she used to laugh at me when I was just removing my shoes. Not just as mother, but many times her father also know it in the guilt between meetings.


Children feel it when the house is full, but something is missing. And even bosses know the truth, though they rarely say it out loud. Because, deadlines move. Roles change. and Businesses adapt.
Childhood does not.

No company remembers who stayed late. 
But every child remembers who came home on time.

So choose the work that fits the life you want your children to remember.
Be there while you still matter this much. Be in the photos. Not just the provider behind the scenes. 
Be the memory. Not the sentence they say years later:
 “My mom was always working.”

Money can be earned again. Time cannot.
𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀,
𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝘂𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸.

Yesterday, during a family conversation, a simple thought hit deep:
"Who’s looking for a job, and who’s looking to do what they were born to do?"

That line touches me the most. It gave me goosebumps and made me think on my own life.

At the age of 6, I loved sitting with magazines, newspapers, trying to rewrite the world in my own words.

Sometimes, I scribbled thoughts about life, dilemmas, and dreams not for anyone, not for a book, but simply because that’s who I was.

In college, I began writing a diary, pouring my thoughts onto paper. That passion continues even today. Back then, I didn’t know I could be a good writer.

It was simply my love for writing, putting thoughts into words.
Then came responsibilities, family life. 
Many things got changed and something got forgotten, but yet few things still the same. writing was one of that. 

I wrote letters to my husband on every occasion about feelings, about everything. Even today, sometimes, I still write to him. Of course, he’s right here with me, but that act still makes me feel something nostalgic and full.

In 2013, my first article was published in Mom and Me magazine just sharing my motherhood journey with the world. And then, by 2020, I had officially stepped into the professional writing space.

But in one corner of my mind , I’ve always been a writer at heart even if I didn’t fully realize it back then. 

Yes, I had a corporate job for more than 15 years. But deep down, I always wanted more. Not more work, but more life.
Time with my kids. My in-laws, my parents and my family. My husband.

And work that didn’t require me to ask for permission to live.
I wasn’t chasing a job. I was choosing a life.

Then came The Story Tales. My creative freedom.
A space to grow without asking. A life where my work reflects who I am.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s what we’re all really looking for not just a role to fill, but a soul to fulfill.

This made me think some people are looking for a job, and some are trying to do what they are truly born to do.

So, what about you are you chasing a job, or are you building the life you were born to live?”

#mylifemystory

We don’t tell stories to be seen.
We tell them to stay intact.

Before visibility, there is coherence.
Before audience, there is self.

Storytelling is not performance.
It is preservation.

Of identity.
Of leadership.
Of personal history.
Of legacy.

This is where ghostwriting lives.
Not in polishing words,
but in holding a story steady
while life keeps expanding.

Because 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 don’t make us visible.
They 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘂𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲.

I live in a joint family. Some days the house is full of people but the relationship inside it feels very low. There is always someone who needs something. Parents. Children. Responsibilities. Work. And everything in the home. 

Some days the family becomes the priority before the relationship even gets a chance to breathe, no there is nothing wrong but every other things are priority. Life fills every corner. But our own relationship as couple comes on the last thing of the list. Yes the hardest things to maintain in the joint family is you and your partner's relationship. 

Joint family looks good on outside but sometimes you are lost in it, so I have had to learn something very deliberately.

Love does not stay alive on its own, but it has to be maintained. Not with flowers, and parties and many outgoings, but with simple small stubborn act of closeness. Respect is where it starts love. 

Not the formal kind, the kind that says you are not just my partner, you are a whole person. 

You have your own thoughts, tiredness, dreams and flows, and yes may be for that many times, the family system reduce the bond in the relationship roles. 

But, then there is compassion. Most days when we feel distant, I will not be angry nor overwhelmed, but instead I ask to myself, what is wrong with us. 

I try to ask what might be heavy for you today. And then there is intimacy.
Not just sex. Human closeness. Sitting together or just simple walk, or just eye to eye looks or touching him. I choose to look at my partner not as part of my to do list, but as a human being I want to keep knowing.


I know and I felt too, people can survive without sex but they can not survive without touch. So this is what I practice in my own life.

In a full house, in a busy marriage. In a real relationship. I protect small moments of us. because love is not lost in big fights. it is lost in small neglects. and I refuse to let that happen. 

This is not romance for me, but relationship maintenance.
And that is how love survives inside real life.

This week the pressure has been intense. Not just from work, but from life, family, and everything around it. Their exams are going on, my husband has a lot of onsite work, my parents are unwell, and everything feels like a constant hustle. So I wake up early and try to complete the pending tasks.

Again she comes behind me, and asked me, “Mama, rest now.”

Then she said,
 “Mama, why do you work so much?” It wasn’t a complaint. It was curiosity.
 
So I said,
 “Because I like building things.”
She thought about it for a second and said,
 “But you already built us.”

Then she asked, “Now what do you want to build?”

Children don’t see careers. They see presence.  They don’t measure success in money or titles.  They measure it in whether you are there when they look up.
I wanted to explain ambition. Independence. The future.

But what she was really asking was simpler: “Am I safe in your attention?”

That question lives inside every relationship we will ever have.
Not just with our children. With partners. With friends. With ourselves.

We keep telling the world who we are through our work,  while the people who love us are quietly asking, “Do I still matter here?”

That is the real balance of parenting. Not between home and career,
but between doing and being. Between building a life and being present inside it.

So today, I worked a little less. And I listened a little more.
And somehow, that felt like progress too.

While I am working, she is working on my hair.

𝗞𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗵 is not a motivational slogan for me.
It is the moment, that I earned and leaned lot later.
It has tought me to not bargain with myself at all.

I have seen, most people do not struggle because they lack talent. They struggle because they keep showing up in rooms that teach them they are replaceable. They keep lowering their voice, their prices, their standards, their boundaries, just to stay included. I did that too.

Then I started paying attention to what happened when I respected my own words. When I stopped explaining myself to people who had no intention of understanding. When I chose clarity over approval. My work changed.

My confidence did not become louder. It became steadier. The same thing happened with my thoughts. I realized how much of my ambition was being sabotaged by inner negotiations. Not fear of failure, but fear of being seen trying. So I stopped asking whether I deserved more and started acting as if my time, ideas, and energy were already valuable.

And 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲, That one took the longest. Being present all the time, is not about showing up everywhere. It is about choosing where you belong. Who gets access to you. Which conversations deserve your attention. Which opportunities align with your values rather than just your ego.

Storytelling, content creation, podcasting. These are not platforms for me. 
They are practices. Ways to listen deeply, speak honestly, and connect without pretending. Knowing your worth does not make you superior.

It makes you unavailable for anything that requires you to shrink.

If you are building a life where your voice, your work, and your time actually matter, you will recognize this without needing it explained.

𝗞𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗵.

Not everything deserves your emotional energy. No, do not get me wrong, its not detachment, but its discernment. 

Detachment disconnects.
Discernment chooses.

It shows up first in relationships. You stop trying to be understood by people who are committed to misunderstanding you.
It shows up at work.
You give your depth to what actually matters, not to every opinion, urgency, or noise dressed as importance.
It shows up in content.
You stop explaining yourself to invisible audiences and start writing from alignment, not reaction.

And eventually, it reaches identity.
You no longer shape yourself around every room you enter.
You stay intact, even when not mirrored.

This isn’t withdrawal from life.
It’s a refusal to leak yourself everywhere.

Emotional energy is finite.
Where you place it decides who you become.
And the deep work is not learning how to give more of it.
It’s learning where not to.

Do you know the Bamboo plant growth hack ? 

A bamboo farmer plants a seed. For four years, nothing breaks the soil.
No shoots. No signs. No proof that anything is happening.

Every day, the farmer waters the land anyway. In the fifth year, the bamboo grows nearly eighty feet in a few weeks.

Sometimes, it may looks sudden growth, but no it wasn't. For four years, the bamboo was building roots strong enough to hold what was coming.

If the farmer had stopped watering in year three, there would be nothing in year five. Most people quit in that no growth years. They may not see the roots that are going below, but nothing visible upside.

So, today if you feels slow, ordinary, or unrewarding, remember this:
Strong growth needs deep roots.
And deep roots take time.

Happy Monday.

Yesterday, my maid came to me in hurry mode. 
Bhabhi, baju wali bhabhi gir gayi. 
I just rushed. 

They were out for trip from last few days. wealthy, well-to-do family.
Two daughters like mine. Her husband is an active RSS worker, involved in multiple NGOs, respected in social circles. From the outside, everything looked perfect. We knew they were out for family trip and everything is shining from outside.  But yesterday something happned. She looked unwell. I checked on her, offered help, her condition suddenly worsened. Her face turned purple. And she collapsed.

I called her husband immediately. A doctor lives in our building, he rushed in.
The diagnosis was devastating for me at least. and the shocking part is her pregnancy had been “handled quietly.” She had an abortion few days earlier.

They are not on trip but remote place where everything handled. 
But now its severe medical complication. 
Severe internal bleeding. Her haemoglobin dropped to 5.0.

This is the India we don’t put on posters. When sex determination was banned, we told ourselves we had solved the problem. What we actually did was push it underground and make it expensive. Poor families were policed,
and rich families learned loopholes. Brutality is their but its more quieter and more hiddene. 

But why is this conversation coming back now? Because India is finally uncomfortable again, no not for this issue, but because Mardani 3 has this issue reveled in very powerful way. It has very powerful messege that we refused to name before decades. 
You can ban machines,  tighten laws, But until families stop treating daughters as liabilities, misogyny will keep finding new supply chains. And it will always wear a suit when it can’t wear a knife.

Crime data, trafficking networks, missing girls, forced marriages, all trace back to one root truth, When you eliminate girls before birth, violence doesn’t end. It mutates.

Are we truly empowering women, or are we degrading norms and standards and calling it progress?

Yesterday, I was on a client call, discussing 𝗧𝗢𝗙𝗨, 𝗠𝗢𝗙𝗨, 𝗕𝗢𝗙𝗨.

My daughter overheard and jumped in to ask,
“Are you talking about food?”

I apologized to the client for the interruption, but since he knows my daughter, he just smiled and said,
“Not exactly… but kind of.”

Then suddenly he said,
“Can you explain this in an easy way for your daughter, so it’s easy for both of us?”

And this is what I explained to both of them 👇

Imagine you open an ice cream shop 🍦

𝗧𝗢𝗙𝗨 is when people see your shop for the first time.
They don’t know you.
They’re just curious.
So you smile, wave, and let them taste a spoon.

𝗠𝗢𝗙𝗨 is when they come back and ask,
“What flavours do you have?”
You explain. You share stories.
They start trusting you.

𝗕𝗢𝗙𝗨 is when they say,
“Okay, give me two scoops.”

My client immediately said,
“Ohhh. I trust you. Let’s do this.”

My daughter said,
“Oh. That’s easy.”

The client laughed.
Then said,
“That’s the clearest funnel explanation I’ve heard.”

And I guess that’s the best thing about marketing.
If a 10-year-old can’t understand it, your customer probably won’t either.

Complexity just sounds smart in meetings.
Clarity converts.

Both got it.
That’s my funnel.

Yesterday, my daughter asked why I always look tired.

I said, “I’m fine.”

But later, when she slept, I realized she wasn’t asking about my day.
She was asking about my life.

Funny how kids read the things we hide from adults.

This morning, I didn’t check my phone first, do not write about what I thought, but I checked myself.

Small pause and Big clarity.

𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗼𝗳𝗳𝘀, 𝗽𝗶𝘃𝗼𝘁𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲...
𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻?

Honestly, it’s probably because you’re tired. No, you are not lazy, nor insecure too, but just tired. 

Life happened.
Kids. Parents. Responsibilities that don’t care about visibility or “putting yourself out there.” ( the people who knows me, knows this how I am stuck but still I survived) 

May be You’ve learned that being seen has a price and silence feels cheaper.

So you tell yourself you don’t have time, Or that your story isn’t that interesting, or that everyone else has already said it better. 

Meanwhile, someone is getting laid off for the first time.
Sitting in their car.
Staring at their phone.
Wondering how they’re going to explain this at home.

They scroll. They listen.
And they end up taking advice from people who haven’t been hit yet. 
No, not because those people are wrong, but because you are silent. 

What they actually need is someone who’s been through it. Someone who knows how it feels when the plan stops working.
When confidence disappears. When you keep going anyway.

You don’t need to teach. You don’t need to inspire. Just talk. Just share and say what you wish someone had told you back then. 

Because every time you don’t, someone else thinks they’re the only one struggling. And they’re not.

You know that.

Today my daughter asked me a simple question.
“Mumma, what is a niche?”
I didn’t explain the word. I told her a story. 

I said, you love drawing, right? 

Some days you draw flowers.
Some days animals.
Some days faces.
And some days you don’t feel like drawing at all. 

Now imagine someone tells you:
“You can only draw butterflies.  Only butterflies. Because that’s how you grow.”

She looked at me and said,
 “But then I’ll get bored.”

Exactly.
Growth doesn’t come from choosing a small box too early.
It comes from exploring wide enough to know what truly holds you.
When you are learning, your job is not to specialize.
Your job is to notice what keeps pulling you back.

Similar way, we rush people to “find a niche”,  when what they really need is range.
A niche is not something you decide.

It is something that reveals itself after enough curiosity, repetition, and lived experience, and when you force it too early:
- You perform instead of think.
- You copy instead of discover.
- You stay safe instead of grow.

It’s not narrowness the world rewards. It’s self-awareness. And self-awareness grows through exploration.

I told her this before she walked away:
“First, become interesting. The direction will find you.”

I think a lot of adults need to hear that too.

𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗦𝗼 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗦𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗣𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗨𝗻𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗱

Success gives structure to the outside of a life.
Titles. Milestones. Recognition. Proof.

But naming is an inner act.
And most people never pause long enough to do it.

As a 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗿, I notice this pattern often.
Highly accomplished people who can describe their work in detail,
but hesitate when asked to describe themselves.

They know the role they play.
They know the destination they were aiming for.
What feels unclear is the journey in between.

Because along the way, stories get compressed.
Detours are edited out.
People who once walked with you quietly fall out of the frame.
And the version of you that changed in transit never gets named.

That’s where the unease comes from.
Not from lack of success.
But from an unfinished narrative.
This is the work I do.

I don’t write to decorate achievements.
I listen for the story underneath them.

The one that names your becoming.
The turns you didn’t plan.
The companions who stayed.
The ones who left.
And the destination that changed shape as you walked toward it.

Sometimes, people don’t need a new title.
They need their story told back to them, clearly, honestly, and whole.

If any part of your journey feels unnamed,
perhaps it’s not clarity you’re missing.
𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆.

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The Battle

Archit Raj Thapar

Sonal Shah

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taplio

The Battle

Archit Raj Thapar

Sonal Shah

Followers

Posts

Engagements

Likes

Performance Score.css-goub6s{font-size:var(--chakra-fontSizes-md);font-weight:500;color:var(--chakra-colors-gray-600);display:block;margin-top:var(--chakra-space-1);}Sonal Shah's LinkedIn Performance

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