Hosting with Cracked Hands, Messy Hair, and Tired Muscles: What it means to be a Woman behind Farm Aavjo

When people arrive at the farm, they often ask, “So who’s behind all this?”

Sometimes they look right past me.

Sometimes they pause, not quite expecting the answer.

And when I say—“Me”—there’s a flicker. Surprise. Respect. Confusion.

Because yes, I run this place.

I built it, actually. From soil to soul.

Host Anshika with Shivangi (friend/guest) at Farm Aavjo, interacting with Riddhi (Marwadi Horse)

Farm Aavjo wasn’t born from a business plan. There was no business plan ever. It came from a longing—for space, and for honesty. And I built it as a woman. With all that being a woman comes with.

One time, a man came to install solar panels. He walked in, shook hands with my male team member, and began explaining the entire setup to him. I was standing right there.He didn't know I was the one who had designed the power plan, calculated the wattage, and made the decision.

He didn’t know—until he had to.

By the end of that visit, he was addressing me. Asking questions. Taking notes.

Not because I asserted dominance—but because I didn’t need to.

Being a woman here has taught me that presence is louder than performance.

That quiet confidence—consistent and rooted—is its own revolution.

And it’s not just in the big moments. It’s in the daily ones.

In how I set up the breakfast table, how I sense when someone needs solitude, how I hold space when a guest’s silence is saying more than their words.

I remember one woman guest, who stayed for two nights and ended up sitting with me by the bonfire late one evening. She looked up and said, “I forgot I could breathe like this. I forgot I could feel this safe.”

She didn’t mean the farm only. 

She meant the feeling of being seen, not sold something.

Held, not fixed. 

She meant what happens when women build something with care and courage at the center.

Farm Aavjo isn’t about perfection. It’s about the truth.

It’s about reminding people—especially women—that soft doesn’t mean small. That hospitality isn’t servitude, it’s strength.

So yes,

I host with cracked hands, messy hair, and tired muscles.

This isn’t just a stay. It’s a slow, steady rebellion. 

And you’re welcome to rest in it.

And to every woman who’s ever dreamed of building something that feels like home, you can. You already are.

With hope and love, 

Anshika

Director, Farm Aavjo