The rain outside reflected the turmoil within me. Each drip from the roof seemed to resonate with the rejection emails I received. At 25 buried in debt the weight of my aspirations felt heavier than my struggles. Every freelance job I took was draining, a way to make ends meet for groceries and my mothers medication. Photography once a solace now served as a reminder of my unmet dreams.

My mother, a beacon of light in my life held my hand tightly her touch a reminder of unwavering love amidst adversity. Her words, "Keep your light shining, Amina " felt like a challenge than solace. How could I fuel that flame when I felt like a flickering candle in the wind?

One day while delivering coffee for an event I stumbled upon an art gallery. Mesmerized by the colors on display I. Briefly escaped from my worries. Suddenly a voice warm as velvet caught me off guard. "Can you see what I see?"

I turned to see a woman with twinkling eyes and an amused smile. None than the renowned artist Ms. Kapoor, from various interviews and documentaries.

Feeling shy I mumbled a response while gesturing towards a painting that caught my eye.

Ms. Kapoor chuckled softly saying, "It's okay dear. Art has a way of communicating on its own." Then she looked at me with concern. Remarked, "I see the sadness, in your eyes speaking too. Don't let it silence you."

I was touched by her words, and they resonated deep within me. Shame transformed into a tiny provocation. "I am a photographer but I feel like I am failing," I admitted, surprising myself with my candor.

Ms. Kapoor simply smiled in response. “Life gives you lemons, young lady; it’s your choice to make lemonade or be embittered by them. What story do you want your photographs to tell?”

In my mind flashed the face of my mother etched with love and resilience. “They should capture ordinary beauty and vulnerable strength,” I said, finding new purpose in my voice.

A warm smile was offered by Ms. Kapoor. “Then go on clicking child—your story counts.” She urged,” Now go out there and capture light even in shadows.”

From the gallery, I walked out into the rain with determination in me; it no longer felt like a reflection of gloominess anymore but rather a cleansing wash that would pave way for a fresh start. Opportunities wouldn’t find me waiting for them; I’d make opportunities myself. The unwavering love of my mother and the soft nudge from Ms. Kapoor had reignited in me something deeper than before that rivaled an inferno. Not merely making lemonade, but creating a masterpiece with each one life threw at me -this is what I needed to do.