My name is Shanaya, and I’m currently in the middle of what should be an exciting time in life—my final year at university, dating someone I’ve known since our first year, Varun (Va-roon), and exploring the topic of leadership through a group presentation. We’re a group of five: me, my friend Nikhat (Nick-kaath), her fiancé Ayaan (Uh-yawn), Varun, and another classmate named Raghav (Ruh-ghuv). Nikhat and Ayaan share an incredibly supportive relationship, one where boundaries are respected, and they’re genuinely there for each other. Ayaan’s the kind of person who values kindness and respect, not just for Nikhat but for everyone around him, and that’s probably why he’s one of the most well-liked people in our class.
Initially, I thought having Varun in the same group as me would make things easier. But as we started working on the project, the dynamics took a different turn. The group agreed I’d take the lead on the project since I’d pitched some ideas that everyone else seemed to like. Even Nikhat, who I value greatly, gave her nod and supported the idea of me leading. But Varun? He wasn’t on board at all. He hated the thought of me stepping into that role, even though he hadn’t put forward any ideas himself. Varun and Ayaan had differing personalities. Ayaan was respectful, secure in his relationship with Nikhat, and fully supported her; Varun, on the other hand, had a different reaction.
I tried to address it with Varun, to see if it was just a misunderstanding, but it quickly became clear that wasn’t the case. He was determined to make himself the leader. At first, it was subtle—small jabs about how I should “stay in my lane” and let someone else take charge. But as I continued to gain the group’s support, Varun’s behavior changed from passive remarks to something darker.
One evening after a group session, he cornered me outside of class, his expression hard and his voice low. “Why are you so set on this?” he said. “You don’t need to prove anything. I’m here to lead, not you.” I tried to reason with him, to remind him that it was a group decision, not just mine. But he wasn’t hearing it. He pushed closer, looming over me, his voice laced with a quiet threat that made my stomach churn. “If you keep pushing this, Shanaya, you’ll regret it,” he whispered.
I held back tears, trying to stand my ground. But the truth is, I was terrified. The Varun I thought I knew seemed like a stranger, someone willing to intimidate me just to claim a position. That night, I went home feeling broken, cornered by the very person I thought would support me. My parents noticed the change in me immediately. When I finally shared what was going on, they were furious yet supportive. They reminded me of my strength, of my right to stand up for what I believed in. With their support, I felt a spark of courage. I decided I wouldn’t back down.
As the presentation date approached, Nikhat and Ayaan were my quiet strength. Nikhat, who’d been there for me through every high and low, gave her full approval for me to lead alongside Ayaan. She encouraged me to step up, to ignore the fear Varun had tried to plant in me. Even Ayaan, who had every chance to take the lead himself, encouraged me to share my ideas freely.
On presentation day, Varun was visibly tense, watching as Ayaan and I took the lead. I was nervous, my voice shaky at first, but as I glanced at Nikhat and saw her nod of encouragement, I grew stronger. I presented my ideas with clarity, and Ayaan backed me up, adding his insights and making the entire presentation flow seamlessly. The entire group effort paid off; we delivered a presentation that received high praise, and I felt proud of myself for not giving up.
After the presentation, Varun’s anger was palpable, but I realized that his behavior was a reflection of his own insecurities, not my capabilities. I had crossed a boundary that he wasn’t comfortable with—not because it was wrong, but because it challenged his own limited view of who I should be. I ended the relationship shortly after. Varun’s need to control, his intimidation tactics, and his inability to respect my ambitions were not things I could overlook or tolerate.
Through this experience, I learned an invaluable lesson about leadership and resilience: being a leader isn’t about power or control; it’s about having the courage to stand up for what you believe in, even when others try to silence you. And it’s about surrounding yourself with people who respect your boundaries and encourage you to shine.
I hope more women can feel empowered to make similar choices and that they, too, will find the courage to balance leadership with the dignity and respect they deserve.
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