What Still Hurts: Can Trauma Become the Engine for Change?

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My NoSmalltalk session with Chandni Di & Dev Pratap Singh

by Albert Schiller

In conversations with leaders, we are conditioned to ask about metrics, strategies, and successes. We seek the blueprint for their achievements. But the most profound insights often lie in the questions we are afraid to ask. When I posed such a question to Chandni, “What’s the question people never ask you, but they should?”, her answer was not about her accomplishments or her plans. It was four simple, devastating words: “What still hurts?”.

This admission is the key to understanding the deep, driving force behind Voice of Slum. Their mission is not fueled by abstract idealism or a detached sense of charity. It is forged in the persistent, unhealed pain of their pasts. Dev, for the first time in his life, spoke of the sexual assault he endured as a child living on the streets. Chandni recounted the terror of a similar attempt on her life at fourteen. These are not just backstories; they are active, present forces. As Chandni says, “Some wounds never go away; they just become our drive”.

This philosophy of motivation stands in stark contrast to the pursuit of wealth, fame, or market disruption. A mission rooted in the desire to prevent one's history from becoming another child's future has a unique and terrifying durability. It cannot be abandoned when funding is low or when the work becomes difficult, because the source of the motivation is internal, inescapable, and absolute. They are not merely running an organization; they are in a lifelong battle with their memories. As they explained, "We don’t want any other child to go through what we went through".

This transforms pain from a destructive force into a creative one. The trauma becomes a source of profound clarity, an ethical compass that cannot be swayed by conventional metrics of success. It provides them with an intimate knowledge of the problems they are solving. They know what their children need because they were those children. This deep understanding, what Chandni calls the ability to feel "others’ pain," is what she believes makes one a "true human being". Their work challenges a comforting illusion: that our heroes must be healed. Dev and Chandni’s story suggests a more difficult truth: Sometimes, the most potent and authentic leaders are not those who have moved past their pain, but those who have had the immense courage to transform it into a relentless engine for good.

5 Lessons I Learned from this Encounter:

Open Questions for Discussion

1. Chandni and Dev use their pain as fuel. What are the personal risks for a leader whose professional mission is so deeply intertwined with their own trauma? How can they ensure their mission remains healthy and sustainable without being consumed by the very pain that drives it?

2. Suppose the most potent social change comes from those who have personally experienced the problems. What is the most effective role for privileged outsiders who have not lived that reality but still want to contribute meaningfully?