A few people have quietly guided the way I think.
Every one of them, in their own way, is connected to India.
One is Mother Teresa.
Before I founded MOTHERHOUSE twenty years ago, I visited her home in Kolkata.
We shared the same space, the same language, and perhaps a similar sense of purpose.
She is someone I deeply respect — yet also feel uniquely close to.
Another is Mahatma Gandhi.
At a time when India exported cotton only to have it processed elsewhere, he stood for something simple yet powerful:
“If it is our cotton, we should spin the thread and weave the fabric ourselves.”
His belief in self-reliance is something I return to, especially in difficult moments.
And then there is Rabindranath Tagore.
A poet, an artist — the first from Asia to receive the Nobel Prize in literature.
Unlike Gandhi, he chose to distance himself from the world of politics,
speaking instead to the human spirit through the language of art.
There is one particular line of his that I have always carried with me:
"If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life,
your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars."
Last month, as we celebrated twenty years of MOTHERHOUSE,
I felt a quiet, persistent pull — as if India was calling to me.
So I journeyed to Kolkata.
While developing samples at our factory, I also traveled to Santiniketan.
A place founded by Tagore — now a university dedicated to art and the human spirit.
It was there that I encountered a realization that has stayed with me.
Both Gandhi and Tagore found a deep value in khadi — a simple, handwoven cloth.
But they looked at it through different eyes.
To Gandhi, spinning the thread was a path toward economic survival.
He encouraged it for everyone — a shared, daily discipline for the mind & spirit.
For Tagore, it was something else entirely.
Not an obligation, but an act of creation.
Something that should never be weighed down by the word "duty."
In this difference, I see what each man was so deeply trying to protect.
Gandhi focused on the necessity of economic survival — a lifeline for those at the margins of society.
Tagore focused on the spark of human creativity — something that cannot be measured,
yet defines the very way we live.
For two decades, I have walked the path of building MOTHERHOUSE.
I have seen our factory in Bangladesh grow from a single soul to over 400.
In India, from one to dozens more.
Across Nepal, Sri Lanka, Indonesia — I have watched as people are impacted through the act of making.
But in those early days, I was confronted by a reality that was very cold and very real:
"Without orders, no matter how strong the belief, it has no meaning."
And so, we pursued profit, not as an end in itself,
but as a lifeline to sustain the lives of those who walk this journey with us.
Then, one day, I designed a bag I had always carried in my heart.
Inspired by the organic form of a flower — something that felt alive.
That design became the Mizubasho bag.
It brought not only growth, but the strength to create again.
Most importantly, the artisans saw it happen with their own eyes.
They witnessed how the spark of creativity could lead to a landscape of opportunity
Even now, a long line often stretches beyond our factory gates —
souls waiting for a chance to begin their journey.
There are those who leave as quickly as they arrived, saying:
"This work... it is far too difficult."
And we simply answer with a smile:
"Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be."
Because we know that this path — as demanding as it may be — is more than just labor.
It is creation.
This was the realization that I carried with me throughout the journey.
Economic survival provides the ground where the act of creation can take root.
But at the same time, it is creation itself that leads us toward a true independence.
Both are true, walking side by side.
In those early days, we lacked even the simplest tools for our work.
Many who walked beside me couldn't read or write.
Yet together, with persistence, we began to build a world of our own.
Today, we create highest quality bags from the heart of Bangladesh,
reaching people through our sixty owned stores.
But this is just the start.
By 2029, our new factory will be completed —
a sanctuary for creation we have named "Building Hope."
I have learned that what we shape with our hands is never just a product.
It is a testament to something far deeper.
Amidst the scent of curry drifting through the train,
A realization began to take shape within me:
Perhaps this journey was a necessary reminder —
to keep asking where I am on this path, and the essence of what I am truly building.
