By Soma Biswas Vajpayee | PGP 1999

There are journeys that follow a map, and then there are those that unfold like a painting—layer by layer, uncertain at first, but slowly revealing their meaning. Mine has been the latter.

If I trace it back, it began in the structured, sharply defined world of retail banking at Citibank in Mumbai. Fresh out of the Indian Institute of Management Ahmedabad, I stepped into a world that valued precision, performance, and measurable growth. It was the early 2000s, a dot-com boom, a time when Yahoo and Rediff were still finding their feet, and I found myself at the intersection of technology and finance, helping build and scale systems (Internet Banking, Mobile Banking, Payment Gateway) that felt, at the time, both cutting-edge and demanding. Build something tangible. Scale and train users and drive usage.

I was driven then. There was clarity in ambition. Achieve. Deliver. Grow. Climb the career ladder. The path seemed visible, almost pre-written.

And yet, somewhere beneath that certainty, there was always hidden a ‘wild card’. 

Life, as it often does, gently disrupted the script.

Marriage, three children, and the role of a “trailing spouse” took me across three continents—Mumbai, Hong Kong, and New York. With each move came a quiet unrooting. Just as the ground began to feel familiar, it would shift again. There is a particular kind of resilience that grows in that in-between space—where you are constantly beginning again, holding continuity not in place, but within yourself.

In those years, my focus turned inward toward what felt essential. Family became the anchor—ensuring stability for my children, nurturing their education, their well-being. Alongside that, I held onto practices that grounded me: yoga, running, trekking, meditation. These were not hobbies; they were ways of staying whole. 

And then there was art.

What began as a personal refuge slowly became a language. A way to process, to regulate, to express what words often could not. Over time, it expanded beyond something private. I began to create more, to exhibit, to share. Across cities and continents, my work found homes—and, more importantly, connection. People resonated with it. They lived with it. It became part of their spaces, their stories.

Without consciously planning it, I had stepped into the role of an artist.

Parallel to this, my curiosity about impact and purpose led me into entrepreneurship. I became involved in building Zaya Learning Labs—an effort to bring educational access to underserved communities. It was a return, in some ways, to structure and systems, but with a very different intention. Here, the metrics were not just financial; they were human. It was also a time when I trained and certified as a business coach, deepening my engagement with people—their goals, their challenges, their growth.

And yet, even then, something was still evolving.

In 2018, after moving to New York, life opened another unexpected door. I encountered art therapy—not as an abstract concept, but as a lived, practiced discipline. It felt immediately familiar and entirely new at the same time.

For years, I had used art instinctively—for expression, for healing, for emotional balance. But here was a structured, evidence-based field that combined art with psychotherapy. A space where creativity was not just expression, but intervention. Where it could support treatment for individuals through depression, anxiety, trauma, and acute mental health conditions.

It was, quite simply, a revelation.

Today, as a Licensed Creative Art Therapist  (LCAT) working within a locked acute unit of a hospital, I find myself in a world I could never have predicted 25 years ago. The environment is intense. The stakes are high. The individuals I work with are navigating some of the most challenging moments of their lives.

And yet, there is a quiet continuity in everything that has come before.

The teamwork I valued in banking exists here too, only now it is within a multidisciplinary treatment team, working collectively toward stabilization and healing. The drive to deliver outcomes remains—but the outcomes are different. They are not quarterly numbers, but moments of mood regulation, insight, stabilization. A patient who finds a way to express their trauma and emotional conflict they have carried silently or intrusively. A small shift that opens the possibility of recovery.

The facilitation of groups—something I engaged with in earlier roles—continues here as well. Only now, the stories are deeper, more fragile. Thought distortions are uncovered through the weight of expectations, abuse, shame, and guilt. The outcomes are not always predictable. But the process of holding space, of guiding reflection, of building resilience—it feels, at its core, familiar.

Looking back, the thread that weaves through all these phases is not the role, but the intent.

A desire to remain relevant—not in the sense of external validation, but in the ability to be useful in people’s lives. To contribute meaningfully. To stay connected—to oneself, and to others.

Art has been the constant companion in this journey. It created flow when life felt fragmented. It offered grounding when uncertainty was high. And eventually, it became the bridge into a profession that feels deeply aligned with who I am.

The Harvard Steps artistic backdrop by the author at the IIMA Silver Jubilee Reunion of PGP 1999.

The LKP Art at the entrance of IMDC by the author in the IIMA Silver Jubilee Reunion of PGP 1999.

This path was never linear. There was no blueprint. It often felt like building a plane while flying it—uncertain, at times overwhelming, filled with doubt. But also, quietly exhilarating. Each new terrain brought with it a sense of expansion—a reminder that growth does not always come from clarity, but often from stepping into the unknown.

If there is anything these 25 years have taught me, it is this: discomfort is not something to be avoided. It is often the very place where alignment begins.

Trusting the process. Leaning into one’s strengths. Allowing life to unfold, even when it doesn’t make immediate sense. And holding, with gratitude, the support of family, friends, and those who walk alongside you, even strangers whom you have met with serendipity.

The road less trodden is rarely easy. But sometimes, it leads you exactly where you were meant to arrive, not in the way you imagined, but in a way that feels profoundly your own.

Author Bio: 

The author identifies with many roles- a mother, a former banker, an executive coach, co-founder of an ed-tech start-up, artist, and an art therapist. She is an alumnus of IIM, A PGP 99, and recently completed her MA from New York University in Art Therapy. Currently, she is practicing as a licensed therapist in NY and works with inpatient psychiatric patients with severe mental health challenges in a local hospital. Born in Kolkata, she has studied and lived in many cities in Asia and currently lives in New York with her husband (PGP 99) and 3 kids. 

Website : www.somavajpayee.com; Instagram : @art_by_soma