Thank You 2025
Thank You 2025 As 2025 comes to an end, I find myself returning to the moments that stayed with me: the conversations, the rooms, the unexpected discoveries, and the people who turned this year into something larger than a sequence of months. When I try to summarise it, one thought keeps appearing: this was a year built TOGETHER. A large part of my year was spent with teams diving into leadership, communication, and intercultural collaboration. And while the topics were important, what stayed with me were the human moments that emerged between them. There is something incredibly meaningful about being in a room where people feel safe enough to speak openly, to share their perspective, their story, their experience. Sometimes all someone needs is a space where they can talk and truly be heard. Watching those connections form, often among colleagues who don’t usually have the chance for deeper conversations, is one of the most rewarding parts of my work. It’s not always easy to open up in front of a group, and maybe that’s why, when it happens, it feels so genuine, so real. One of my other favourite moments of connection was the live event we hosted with Sylwia Królikowska, How to Give Feedback: Say It, Don’t Slay It, a fully English session filled with energy, humour and thoughtful discussion (And yes, the brilliant name was entirely Sylwia’s idea). A Heartfelt Weekend in Gdańsk The Gdańsk Book Fair was one of those moments where everything felt aligned in a very human way. Meeting readers who stopped simply to talk, to ask questions, or to share why the book caught their attention, those exchanges meant a lot. There was a genuine openness in those conversations that made the weekend feel generous. It was also deeply comforting to have Barbara Wrzos there with me, the person who helped turn my book into the physical product you’re now reading. After everything we shared during the Polish publication process, seeing her at the stand brought a sense of grounding and companionship that I appreciated more than I can express. And then there were the authors, brilliant women whose work I admired immediately. Our chats about writing, culture, and the strange, wonderful life of books were some of the most inspiring moments of the fair. Somewhere amid all that warmth and movement, the first English copies of Masala@Work appeared. Quietly, without fanfare, but with a feeling of possibility. Holding them at the fair, surrounded by people who have been part of my journey, felt symbolically right. A New Chapter: Masala@Work in English And then came the next big milestone: the English edition of Masala@Work.A project that started years ago in Polish finally opened its doors to a wider world of readers. The translation process had its own challenges. I wanted the English version to feel as warm and intentional as the original, while also speaking clearly to an international audience. The launch event has been postponed to early 2026 (thank you for your patience!), but the book is officially out, and the first readers have already begun reaching out. Knowing that Masala@Work can now support people far beyond Poland is something I still struggle to put into words. And Last, but not least If I had to choose one defining theme of this year, it wouldn’t be a project or an event, it would be… You! The people who read my posts.The people who comment, share their perspectives, ask questions, disagree kindly, or simply say: “This made me think.”The people who show up to trainings, lives, and book events with open minds.The people who take one minute from their busy day to engage with something I wrote. You have no idea how meaningful that is. Knowing that my work reaches someone, supports someone, clarifies something or simply sparks a moment of reflection; that’s what keeps me going. That’s what makes the long hours, the prep work, the travel and the writing feel worthwhile. And this year, more than any other, I felt the presence of a community around me, curious, thoughtful and wonderfully engaged. Thank you for walking this path with me in 2025.I’m grateful for every conversation we had, every message you sent, every moment you chose to spend here. Here’s to what we learned, and to everything waiting for us in 2026.
The Journey to Masala@Work
The Journey to Masala@Work There is a particular kind of silence that comes with writing a book, the kind filled with thoughts that circle your head, waiting to be caught before they disappear again. When I look back at the journey of Masala@Work, what I remember first is those long moments of wrestling with myself, my expectations, and the weight of the topic I had chosen. I often joke that Masala@Work was raised on coffee, nighttime ideas and interrupted attempts at discipline, but there is truth behind the humour. I spent years collecting the pieces that would eventually form the book: conversations in training rooms, stories gathered during my time in India, interviews, questions from clients, personal experiences, deeply human misunderstandings that revealed more about cultural lenses than about “mistakes”. All of that lived inside me long before I sat down to write. And yet, when the time to write finally came, I faced three very real difficulties. The first was perfectionism, the kind that convinces you you’re not ready, even when you’ve been preparing for a decade. I believed the book had to be immaculate — as if there was such a thing. I postponed chapters because I wanted to “read one more paper”, “double-check one more detail”, “do one more interview”. And the more I postponed, the more impossible the task seemed. The second difficulty was time, or rather the lack of alignment between the time available and the creative flow. I had moments of inspiration at midnight on a Wednesday — and complete emptiness during the quiet Sunday morning I had reserved for writing. Sometimes I felt like my brain and my calendar were living in different countries. And the third difficulty was sensitivity. The topic itself — India, intercultural misunderstandings, power dynamics, communication styles — is wide, nuanced and delicate. I wanted to be thorough without overwhelming, practical without simplifying, honest without stereotyping. That balance took time, attention and many rewrites. But despite all that, something kept pulling me forward. Maybe it was the belief that this book could help someone avoid a painful misunderstanding, or perhaps it was the desire to put stories living in and around me into words? Finishing the manuscript felt like taking a deep breath after holding it in for too long. When Masala@Work finally arrived in its printed form, I held it with a mix of disbelief and tenderness. Years of work, condensed into pages. Stories that had once lived only in my memory are now shared with others. And then came the premiere. I didn’t expect it to be so emotional, but oh, it was. The room was full, warm, present. I saw curiosity in people’s eyes and kindness. I remember thinking: This is why I wrote it, for connection. For the possibility that someone would walk away feeling more confident, more informed, more equipped to navigate cultural complexity. The reactions that followed were humbling. Readers told me they felt guided, not lectured. That the book’s stories felt real. That the advice was practical and clear, that they recognised themselves in the frustrations, and found comfort in the explanations behind them. Each message felt like a quiet confirmation that the long journey had been worth it. Which brings me to the next chapter of this story. As the Polish edition began to travel on its own, the idea of an English edition started taking shape. A new language, a new audience, a new responsibility. Translating the book was easier in some ways, harder in others. English opens doors, inviting a global readership with its own cultural nuances, expectations, and sensitivities. I wanted the English version to feel just as warm, just as respectful, just as helpful as the original. I wanted Indian readers to feel seen, and non-Indian readers to feel supported. I wanted the humour to remain, the gentleness to remain, the honesty to remain. At times, the challenge was not the translation itself, but the emotional task of re-feeling the stories in a new linguistic landscape. And now, here we are, standing at the edge of another beginning. The English launch of Masala@Work is just around the corner. A new room, new faces, new conversations — but the same heart behind the book. I can’t wait to meet the readers who will join this next part of the journey.