Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Democracy is not just for politics. I know that now.

But when I was eight, I heard the word ‘democracy’ for the first time. I read that ‘India is a democratic country’. I learnt the definition, and I thought I knew what it was.

A few years down the line, I wrote an essay on ‘What does democracy mean to you?’. The answer carried 10 marks. In that moment, it seemed like the most important answer I’d have to give. So I wrote, I wrote about voting rights and the value of being heard. Mostly, I pondered over the reason why democracy had to mean something to me, especially when it meant something more to the world. Did it matter if I made it a part of my personal values or not?

I didn’t find the answer to that question anytime soon. It turns out democracy is only called its usual name in governments, in speeches, and in false promises. Outside of that, democracy is an experience, and nobody is willing to share their story of it. You have to, inevitably, figure it out for yourself.

When I was fifteen, I learnt about choice. I learnt that when adults want me to do one thing, I will be pulled towards another. I was told I didn’t know well enough to decide for myself, and I didn’t believe it. That’s when I learnt that not all power is shared to make decisions equally.

When all my cousins were over 18, they voted in the upcoming elections. “That’s what democracy is all about”, I said to myself. But that night, I thought about whether every vote really mattered. In a country with a billion people, who was I?

Could democracy be smaller? Should it? If my voice mattered in situations this big, shouldn’t it matter more in local ones? I thought it should. So I fought, if not to win then at least to be heard the same as anyone else, no matter their age, sex or experience.

When I grew up a little more, I found myself in rooms most 19-year-olds wouldn’t enter until their professional careers began. Those rooms were presented to me as an opportunity, the people as gurus. The only problem was that I had no voice for my ideas, no power. This was a hierarchy, and I was at the very bottom, never mind my achievements. A colleague called this situation ‘undemocratic’, and that was probably when it clicked for me.

Unfairness was an antonym for democracy. Being powerless, voiceless, and having to make involuntary decisions was undemocratic.

Most of the adults I know are recruited into the unkind world of corporate hierarchies. I have heard countless stories over dinners that had to be scheduled months in advance just because ‘managers’ were unwilling to (for the lack of a better phrase) let go.

But when I started working at Frappe for the first time four years ago, I was told that they were a democratic company. Cue, an acceptable level of confusion. Frappe had no hierarchy, and every employee voted on big decisions. More importantly, the power of choosing work and the accountability of doing well was individual, not micromanaged. This was a surprise, to say the least. It was also fascinating and gave me a sense of pride I had not understood yet. I spent much of my initial time learning, exploring and gaining the confidence to excel at a workplace like this.

Now, Frappe is finally sharing this with the world. To the people of Frappe, the Democracy at Work Conference is a full-circle moment in a journey that’s still unfolding. Personally, I’m going to find every leader in my network and invite them to this event.

Lastly, for the ones reading this. If you’re around Mumbai on the 23rd of August 2025, this will be one of the best discussions you’ve been a part of. Best part? You’re guaranteed to be heard.