Have you every asked yourself the question: Where is home? Maybe home is a place. Maybe it’s a person. Maybe it’s a dream.

I ask because I believe home can also be a state. A moment when we recognise the work we need (and want) to do to become whole.

As a culture, we crave improvement arcs. We want the good guy to win. We want the one who loses to ultimately triumph. We want stories of change. And yet, life doesn’t always follow that arc. Some of us don’t leave. Some of us don’t change. Some of us don't win. That, too, is a kind of truth.

When I began writing The Through Line, I thought I knew what it would be. A reflection. A way to articulate what mattered to me, what I had learned, and what I wanted to share.

But it became something else. An excavation. A reckoning.

Writing forced me to confront the quiet, persistent questions that had lived in me: Why do I always bolt? Why is my instinct to cut and run?

All I had to do was look at my disjointed CV; my “squiggly” career. I told myself I was running from danger. But slowly, I began to ask: What if I wasn’t running from danger at all? What if I was running from safety? Because safety meant being seen. Being known. Being loved. And that real, grounding love can feel harder to face than any challenge.

So, where is home? My parents are Indian. I was born in Switzerland. I studied in the U.S. I now live in the U.K. Technically, I had answers. Too many of them. What some might call “optionality,” I found disorienting. So I ran from my home, my culture, my roots. Always chasing something different, better, more acceptable.

But what The Through Line helped me discover, or maybe remember, was that the parts I once tried to outrun were the very pieces I needed to reclaim. Not to restrict me, but to inform me. To shape my choices. I used to run to fit in. Now, I run to come home. And home, I’ve learned, isn’t a place. It’s not a dot on a map. It’s a state of being. It’s where the heart lives; where we listen, build, connect, and contribute. It’s where we integrate the fragments of our story and finally begin to feel whole.

So why does this matter beyond the personal?

Because home isn’t just a personal concept. It’s a leadership principle.

I've come to believe that thoughtful leaders don’t just drive outcomes. They create home for others. A space of safety. Of belonging. Of being seen. That’s what allows teams to stop performing and start becoming. That’s what unlocks trust, loyalty, creativity, and risk-taking.

When people feel at home they don’t just show up. They show up as themselves.

And that’s where the magic happens.

Leadership is about creating the conditions for others to return to themselves. To feel whole. To thrive.

That’s what home does. And that’s what integrated leadership should look like.

So let’s go back there. To the heart of things. To the place inside us where there is no judgment. No shame. No blame. Only acceptance. Only growth. Only love.

Let’s go home. Together.