A MIRACLE, BUT I WAS
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Born in a hidden cult in India, far from any city or town, a place where no child had a family of their own and every part of life was controlled. From birth, being assigned a number instead of a name, one among dozens of children raised collectively. Being child 07. The elders dictating everything: when they slept, what they ate, how they moved, and even how they spoke. Strict routines: waking before sunrise, washing in cold water, eating meager and monotonous meals. Physical contact being forbidden except in tightly controlled circumstances, and any affection between children was punished.
Disobedience being punished in cruel ways: children being sent to isolation or humiliation in front of others. Some were slapped, beaten, or made to stand for hours, all to enforce fear and control. Mistakes were never tolerated. Learning early to hide her thoughts, her fear, and her impulses, becoming skilled at performing compliance while internally calculating, observing, and surviving.
Being singled out for a specific purpose: the elders had decided she would be the one to carry the cult’s next generation. Being kept pure and highly observed and controlled for that important purpose.
Being 10, when an older child escaped and exposed the cult to authorities. They arrived suddenly, with cars and uniforms, shouting instructions. Pure chaos. The children being rounded up quickly and later loaded into vehicles, meaning she got separated from the few children she had known. The authorities taking her to a temporary shelter first. Meals were regular and larger than what she had been used to, but she didn’t trust the food at first. They tried to talk to her, ask her questions about her life, but she had no words for what she had experienced. Been trained to say exactly what elders wanted and nothing more. So she stayed quiet. The stories about the cults children reaching the medias, the whole world talking about the children that had been saved.
Then being placed with a wealthy American, new-money family whose struggling jewelry company saw her as a story. Not adopting her out of care — they adopted her to improve their image and for PR. Given clothes, education, and training in public behavior. Calling her a “miracle” and a “success story.” Learning quickly how to smile, speak politely, and perform gratitude. But she understood almost immediately that their love was conditional and transactional. Being chosen because of how she looked and the story she could tell the world — not for who she was. Being angry, shocked, and disoriented, realizing that, once again, her life had been decided by others. Always repeating her story in branding; she was selected, not chosen.
In her teenage years with the family, perfecting the performance expected of her. Appearing at events, interviews, and campaigns as the poised, elegant face of the company. Learning the power of charm, grace, and subtle control. Yet also developing ways to push back quietly. Wearing slightly unconventional outfits to formal events and drinking more than socially expected at parties. These were her private acts of rebellion, a way to remind herself she was still her own person, even as the world saw only a story.
When turning 18, fully entering the world of high society. Having learned to walk, speak, and behave like someone born into wealth.
Being observant, sharp, and deliberate. Keeping friends carefully, trusting only those who are independent or outsiders themselves. Sharing emotions rarely, but when she does, it is deeply sincere. With men, being cautious. Experimenting in small ways, exploring intimacy while keeping control.
At 25, being a woman of contrasts. Elegant, polished, and wealthy, yet unpredictable. The public face of a family brand she technically doesn’t own, yet she subtly shapes its image and campaigns. Not a rebel, but quietly asserts her autonomy through small acts; having a secret apartment that is only hers, often going home without security. Haunted by her childhood in the cult, aware of how she was manipulated and used both there and by her adoptive family, and she uses that awareness as power. Every smile, gesture, and choice reflects the survival skills she developed as a child, and the knowledge that while she was once chosen for others’ purposes, now she carefully chooses how the world sees her — and how much of herself it ever touches.
