A Lotus in the Mud - An Indian Woman's Journey Through Professional South Africa

In the world of finance, confidence often wears a suit and has a loud voice. But for years, I felt like I had neither.

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From a young age, I felt the weight of expectations pressing on me:

• My parents demanded nothing less than perfection.
• I carried that pressure as if my worth depended on it.
• Every exam, every assignment, every achievement felt like a measure of my worth.

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However, University was my first real confrontation with failure. I attempted my CTA and didn't pass.

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Terrified of disappointing my family, I kept it to myself and began writing my articles in 2017. I was studying again while working full-time. I studied in secret: sneaking in exam preparation around work, fearing the moment I would be found out.

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Studying in secret was one of the hardest periods of my life.

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• I had to hide my textbooks
• Sneak in study sessions at odd hours
• And carry the weight of fear that if I failed again, everything would collapse.

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The exhaustion was relentless, but I refused to let failure define me. And through perseverance, I passed.

I excelled at work. Qualified as a CA(SA) straight out of articles, I was swiftly promoted. Management recognised my potential and encouraged me to become a registered auditor — a path that could lead to partnership. The audit partner at the time even supported this ambition, sharing the excitement of bringing in new leadership.

At first, I felt unstoppable. But the challenges intensified.

My rapid rise came with a heavy cost: long nights, unending workloads, and relentless pressure became my reality. I poured more effort than any male counterpart, yet I faced constant pushback.

I was met with blatant sexism, dismissive attitudes, screaming, belittling, and overtly discriminatory treatment.

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Simply because I am a woman.

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The daily hostility wore me down. I was belittled for my gender, not the quality of work. Simply put: I am a young woman in a male-dominated environment. Some of the older males in my field treated me with disrespect, easily ignoring my professional advice. If a male colleague were to repeat my opinion, they would listen in a heartbeat.

In meetings, they made me feel invisible. Often, it was noted that I didn't know what I was talking about because I was "just a young girl with no experience."

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The pressure to prove myself never let up.

Despite this, I refused to let the injustice define me. I saw them around me —  the talented, hardworking women who quietly struggle under the same oppressive conditions. I took on mentorship roles, guiding trainees and supporting other women.

• I became someone they could talk to, someone who understood their silent battles.
• I advocated for fairness by calling out mistreatment i saw, and motivated others to also believe in their potential.
• I tried to be the voice I wished I had when I was a trainee.

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But standing up for what was right? Always comes at a cost. The hostility escalated. I endured daily verbal abuse and harassment. My body and mind were pushed to the edge; I began to feel the cracks forming.

And then one day, the breaking point came: After being awake for 72 hours, in a haze of exhaustion, I accidentally poured boiling water over my hand while making a coffee at the office.

I had suffered second-degree burns. And despite the severity of the injury, I was pressured to stay at work because "my files were still due." Only two days later did I receive medical care. It left me with severe scarring on my hand.

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The pain and shock were physical, but what hurt more was the realisation that all my sacrifices had brought me to this broken, exhausted place.

After confronting senior management, they had finally vocalised it:

As a woman, you will never become a partner

That moment crystallised the harsh truth: all my sleepless nights, the discrimination I endured, the times I stood up for others had led me to this place: a place where my dream was no longer possible. My spirit was shattered.

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I resigned.

Not because I lacked ambition, but because I could no longer endure the abuse.

But there can be light at the end of a tunnel.

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During this dark period of my life, I met my husband — the man who would change my life forever. For the first time, someone truly saw me, believed in me. He reminded me of my worth and encouraged me to leave the toxic environment that had stolen so much from me. Within a year after leaving that toxic environment, we were married — a milestone that might never have happened had I stayed in that place.

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I thought leaving would bring relief, but instead I sank further into invisibility. I took a job where I could hide in the background. I became quiet and reserved. My confidence was gone, my ambition buried.

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Getting out of bed every morning felt like an insurmountable task. I no longer spoke up, challenged unfairness, or fought. I survived.

Still broken, my husband pushed me to step into my potential again in this new job. Through his support, I began to heal slowly. I rediscovered my voice, my drive, that passion burning inside me. My ambition did not need to be sacrificed.

That's when I decided to apply to Accensis.

Returning to audit, I joined Accensis with skepticism. I expected more of the same. Instead, I found a workplace that allowed me to thrive – one built on respect, professionalism, and encouragement.

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For the first time in years, I felt excitement again —  to learn as a newbie in the company, to contribute and mentor as a manager, to grow as a CA(SA). The work is challenging, but I love it.

Recognition and career growth do not require self-destruction. It is possible to rise after being broken. And to shine, even brighter.

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At Accensis, I'm thriving. I've been shaped into a resilient, empowered woman. I learned that:

• Standing up for what's right matters
• Perseverance will take you to unimaginable heights.
• And the key? Self-determination

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To anyone reading this — especially young women navigating a difficult workplace: your voice matters. As painful as they are, those obstacles do not define your potential.

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If I could endure harassment, burnout, broken confidence, and rise again, so can you.

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I share my story not to dwell on the pain, but to inspire some in a drowning young professional. There is a way to reclaim your voice, just as I did.

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