There was a time when life felt dim.

After becoming a mother, I found myself lost in the quiet chaos of postpartum depression and

anxiety , sleepless nights, heavy thoughts, and a feeling of drifting away from who I once

was. In the middle of that darkness, I reached for something familiar , something that had

once brought me joy.

I had always loved henna, its scent and flow, its poetry on skin.

And when I picked it up again, I refound myself. Each pattern I drew became a whisper of

prayer, a reminder that beauty could still bloom through pain. The gentle flow of lines

steadied my thoughts, and my little table of cones and designs slowly became a sanctuary , a

place where healing began to take color.

As my spirit softened, I rediscovered the art of touch , the age-old ritual of champi, the

Champi head massage my grandmother and thrn mother once gave me. I began making

Sultani oil, a royal blend of herbs and warmth, not just to nourish hair but to restore calm and

connection , first for myself, and then for others. Offering that massage became a way to

share what had once saved me: gentle care, grounding touch, and the reminder that we all

deserve peace.And as life moved forward, new chapters of healing opened , the most sacred

of all being breastmilk and keepsake jewellery. Each piece I craft carries a story of love, loss,

and transformation not just for mothers, but for anyone holding onto a moment that shaped

them.Every creation, every drop, every hue , it’s all part of one journey: to turn pain into

purpose and memory into meaning.

Healing Hue isn’t just a business. It’s my ongoing journey of becoming whole and a space

where I hope others can feel that healing, too.