I’ve always had a strange relationship with money. Not in the “I want to be rich” way, but in the quiet curiosity of how it works, how it behaves, and most importantly, how people behave around it.
Growing up, I watched money move — sometimes quickly, sometimes quietly — through ledgers, through lives, through moments of stress and celebration. I saw it in my father’s factory, where I first learned that business wasn’t just about profits. It was about decisions, margins, trust, and timing.
And somewhere between those dusty account books and the neatly ruled notebooks I carried during CA articleship, I fell in love with clarity — the kind that comes when numbers begin to make sense. That clarity, however, wasn’t always easy to find in the noise of financial jargon, tax codes, or market chatter.
I have learned that there is a story behind every number. Numbers just don’t show up in a cash flow statement or in a balance-sheet. They have a history, a story. Somewhere someone made a choice, a decision and as a result numbers show up.
