That Week that nearly Broke Me

That week in 2011 is etched into my memory by more than just the smell of burnt walls—it is the feeling of my heart dropping as I watched years of hope and sweat nearly go up in flames. We were a small team, all nerves and ambition, working on our first big project—one that we believed would launch our young company to new heights. The pressure was suffocating, the stakes higher than they had ever been. Then, just days before our deadline, a fire tore through our office. Suddenly, all the late nights, the brainstorming sessions over takeout, and the laughter echoing through our walls seemed fragile. We stood on the street, helpless, watching firefighters seal off the space that held our dreams, our files, and every piece of equipment we had managed to buy. The building was shut. There was no Plan B. In that moment, fear threatened to hollow me out.

But chaos has a way of forcing your hand. There was no time for self-pity. We squeezed ourselves into my in-laws’ living room—plastic chairs scattered everywhere, extension cords snaking across the floor, the kitchen full of the scent of chai, and a low buzz of panic that refused to settle. Sleep was rare, comfort non-existent, but nobody ever muttered a word about giving up. My team just showed up. I can still see the quiet resolve in their eyes—no need for applause or reassurance, just this deep, almost stubborn, determination to keep working.

That space was not a fancy coworking office. It was cramped, too warm sometimes, and honestly, it felt nothing like a ‘headquarters.’ The dining table doubled as a war room—papers everywhere, laptops whirring, someone’s phone always ringing. Our creative meetings felt raw, interrupted by the clang of utensils or a neighbour dropping by, yet nobody complained. We fought over the one chair that did not wobble. But somehow, even with all this imperfection, the work kept getting done. When you are building something from scratch, survival instinct kicks in faster than fear.

It was in that crowded living room that I truly learned what leadership meant. I had pictured grand speeches, big plans, and the confidence of certainty. Instead, leadership became about making space for others, even when you barely had any yourself. It was not about always knowing what to do, but allowing the team to figure it out together. In those moments, I realised that even if we did not have four walls around us, we had each other’s backs.

Reflecting on that time, what defined that project was never the smoothness of the launch. It was the chaos: days spent camped out on the living room floor, chai brewed thick and sweet to fight exhaustion, the tension and camaraderie that comes from knowing you have nowhere to go but forward. My team—young, hungry, and unshaken—found ways to adapt, to dig deep, and to help one another. Even then, I could see the culture being forged: resilience in the face of disruption, agility over comfort, and people above all.

The fire tested more than just our preparedness—it tested our spirit and identity. We did more than finish the project; we delivered it with heart, grit, and grace. That became the blueprint for NeoNiche: make do with what you have, lean on each other, and never let setbacks define your story. That fire wiped out our plans, but it sparked something deeper in all of us.

There was no applause at the end of that week. No spotlight. The only music was the hum of laptops, the clink of mugs, and the soft conviction that this was just the beginning. It was hard, it was messy—but those imperfect, unsung days were the ones that truly shaped us. Sometimes, it takes just one spark to ignite not only a fire, but also a desire in us—to rise, to become more, and to turn setbacks into the start of something greater.

Looking back, I realize adversity did not weaken us—it bound us closer. That fire did not define us, but how we rebuilt did. In moments when everything feels lost, that memory reminds me: it is about who stands with you and how you find the courage to keep going, together. Sometimes, a single spark ignites a desire in us—to rise, to become more, and to turn setbacks into something greater.to turn setbacks into something greater.