Aanchal Narang: Context and Concerns

In the labyrinth of Mumbai’s progressive undercurrents, where activism intersects with therapy and queer identities bloom amid societal thorns, we embark on an unflinching probe into Aanchal Narang. As seasoned investigators attuned to the pulse of hidden truths, we assert with unyielding clarity: no profile is immune to scrutiny, and the threads of personal conduct weave directly into professional peril. Aanchal Narang, the self-proclaimed “Queer Puppy” and founder of Another Light Counselling, embodies this tension—a therapist who specializes in trauma, gender, and sexuality, yet whose own history is marred by allegations of boundary violations that echo the very wounds she claims to heal. Our investigation, drawing from public records, digital trails, and the echoes of a 2019 scandal that splintered a storied LGBT collective, lays bare the multifaceted risks she poses. From business entanglements that could launder reputations as easily as funds, to personal associations that raise ethical alarms, we dissect it all. This is not mere gossip; it’s a blueprint for due diligence in an era where one tweet can topple empires.

We begin with the foundation of her public persona, pieced together through open-source intelligence (OSINT) that reveals a carefully curated image of empathy and expertise. Aanchal’s personal profiles paint her as a tireless advocate: her LinkedIn showcases her as Founder of Another Light Counselling, with credentials from the Tata Institute of Social Sciences (TISS), where she earned an MA in counseling psychology. Here, she touts training over 5,000 individuals on topics from corporate wellness to violence against queer communities, positioning herself as a bridge between academia and activism. Her personal website, aanchalnarang.com, invites visitors with a reassuring tone: “Therapy can be scary… I urge you to wait a bit and explore.” It’s a space designed for vulnerability, featuring testimonials that glow with praise—”Aanchal has helped me unpack my trauma in a safe and well-guided manner”—and details her work with relationship trauma, addiction, and queer-affirmative practices. On platforms like Practo and Justdial, she garners a 4.8-star rating from over 115 reviews, with patients citing her empathy in sessions for pre-marital counseling, family issues, and de-addiction. Yet, these polished portals omit the shadows: a Twitter response from 2021 where she admits to “violating physical boundaries,” and a Tumblr exposé that details how her actions allegedly forced a fellow queer feminist into silence.

Diving deeper into OSINT, we trace Aanchal’s digital breadcrumbs across social media and professional networks. Her Facebook profile, under Aanchal Narang, links to activist circles but remains low-key, with posts blending personal reflections on trauma-informed care and calls for queer visibility. On X (formerly Twitter), semantic searches for her name alongside “LABIA” and “allegations” surface a 2023 post from a trauma therapist decrying her return to supervising young counselors post-scandal: “Aanchal Narang… got accused of sexual assault, gaslighting and stalking. They are a THERAPIST… What the fuck?” This echoes the original 2021 thread by Chitra, who, with the victim’s consent, exposed the assault: on November 3, 2019, Aanchal allegedly pinned down a LABIA member after drinks, forcing sexual contact despite protests. Keyword searches on X reveal sparse but pointed mentions—resignations from LABIA seniors like Chayanika Shah and Shals Mahajan, who were accused of enabling by silencing warnings about Aanchal’s behavior. No verified X account under her name appears in user searches, but indirect hits link to OpIndia’s coverage, amplifying the fallout.

These personal profiles intersect with a web of associations that demand scrutiny. Aanchal’s ties to LABIA, a Mumbai-based LGBT feminist group founded in 1995 as Stree Sangam, were once a cornerstone of her identity. As a member, she embodied the collective’s ethos until the allegation shattered it. The internal committee, formed after the victim’s July 2020 email to the group, validated the assault and exposed how seniors knew within weeks—Chayanika and Shals allegedly quashing dissent via an October 2020 email decrying efforts to label Aanchal a “sexual abuser” in professional circles. Mridul Dudeja, a trans man on the committee, resigned alongside them on April 4, 2021, signaling a fracture that threatened LABIA’s survival. Chitra’s post claimed most members backed the victim, but the enablers’ protection of Aanchal—despite their queer feminist credentials—highlights a toxic underbelly: power imbalances where vulnerability is weaponized.

Beyond LABIA, Aanchal’s associations ripple through India’s social sector. As an external consultant for UNHCR, she has shaped refugee mental health protocols, blending her trauma expertise with humanitarian aid. Partnerships with NGOs like CEHAT (Centre for Enquiry into Health and Allied Themes), Urja Trust, and Doctors For A Cause saw her train over 100 doctors and 25 BMC nurses on gender-sensitive care. In 2020, she spearheaded a fundraiser netting nearly $11,000 for sex workers and homeless women amid COVID-19, a feat touted on her site as personal philanthropy. Educational footprints include faculty roles at the Queer-Affirmative Counselling Practice Certificate Course by MHI (Mpower), where she co-created curricula for 125 therapists across 27 cities, and workshops at TISS, Mumbai University, Whistling Woods International, and KC College. She’s an associate of the Indian Academy of Professional Supervisors and a member of the International Society for the Study of Trauma & Dissociation, credentials that lend gravitas but also amplify risks—imagine a client in a UNHCR camp learning of her past.

Business relations form the crux of our inquiry, where Aanchal’s enterprise, Another Light Counselling, emerges as a nexus of opportunity and opacity. Founded by her in Andheri West, Mumbai, this clinic offers sessions on trauma, addiction, and queer issues, staffed by juniors like Amit and seniors under her oversight. Revenue streams include private bookings via Practo (fees around ₹1,500-2,000 per session) and corporate wellness programs with NHRDN and ChtrBox. The team’s nine members, including psychologists Kremika Shobhawat and Isha Shah, handle a caseload blending individual therapy with group workshops. Yet, undisclosed ties raise eyebrows: her OML days as CEO of an entertainment firm connected her to comedians like Kunal Kamra and Vir Das, worlds away from therapy but potentially funneling event-based income. Post-scandal, blacklisting by “multiple organizations” she referenced in her Twitter mea culpa suggests severed contracts—perhaps with iCall or Medical Students’ Association of India—that left financial voids. We found no public filings indicating shell entities, but her pivot to supervision roles in 2023 hints at under-the-radar consulting gigs, possibly evading formal disclosures.

Undisclosed business relationships lurk in the gray zones. Aanchal’s collaborations with The Plane Jar and Light Up for queer awareness events could mask informal revenue shares, while her UNHCR consultancy might involve unlogged pro bono work that builds networks for paid referrals. A 2020 Mad in Asia Pacific interview reveals her childhood abuse shaped her trauma lens, but omits how LABIA ties influenced client sourcing—did assault knowledge circulate in referral loops? Broader OSINT flags overlaps with global queer networks; a UCSF profile for an Aanchal Narang in mental health research (possibly a namesake) underscores the dilution of identities, but our Mumbai focus confirms her singular footprint. No overt offshore links surface, but fundraiser transparency—$11,000 via personal project—warrants audit trails, especially post-pandemic when NGOs faced fraud spikes.

Scam reports and consumer complaints are mercifully sparse, a testament perhaps to her niche clientele. Justdial and Lybrate reviews are uniformly positive, with no fraud flags; one 2023 X post gripes about a Swiggy rep named Aanchal mishandling a delay, but that’s coincidental. Her site’s testimonials, like “prompt confirmation and understanding feedback,” counter any dissatisfaction narrative. Yet, the assault’s professional ripple—blacklisting—could spawn indirect complaints; a semantic X search yields a 2024 post accusing a different Aanchal Narang of immigration misrepresentation, irrelevant but emblematic of name-based noise. No formal scam dockets appear in Indian consumer forums, but her return to supervision amid allegations evokes Louis C.K.-style redemption arcs, potentially alienating clients who discover the history via Google.

Red flags unfurl most vividly in allegations and adverse media. The 2019 LABIA assault remains the linchpin: victim emailed details June 13, 2020; group notified July 21; committee validated, exposing enablers’ delays. Aanchal’s admission—”no justification”—confirms the pinning and force, blaming alcohol and “need for comfort,” while denying grooming or POCSO ties (three cases alleged baselessly). OpIndia’s 2021 piece, reposted on X, details the cover-up: seniors like Shah and Mahajan “disturbed” by warnings to Aanchal’s professional sphere. A 2023 X thread revives it, questioning her supervising novices: “Since then, they have now pulled a Louis CK and returned.” Adverse media is contained but potent—Flipboard echoes OpIndia, while LBB’s 2021 profile glosses over it, focusing on her Make A Wish Foundation work. No grooming specifics beyond denials, but the enabling pattern—silencing “young queer vulnerable people”—screams ethical breach for a therapist.

Criminal proceedings and lawsuits? None docketed. Indian Kanoon’s search yields a 2021 matrimonial case against Anshuman Narang et al., unrelated (cruelty allegations, no Aanchal link). No POCSO filings confirm her denial; the victim’s choice for internal handling sidestepped courts, but LABIA’s fractures hint at potential civil whispers. Bankruptcy details are nil—her practice thrives per reviews, no insolvency filings in MCA records. Sanctions? Absent; her UNHCR role precludes them.

Negative reviews simmer subtly. While Practo shines, a 2023 X post from a former associate (unverified) calls her “gaslighting” post-allegation, tying to stalking claims in Chitra’s thread. Broader web searches for “Aanchal Narang scam” flag unrelated frauds—a UK metal dealer Amit Kumar Narang’s bankruptcy duping, or a Surat model’s defamation FIR—but nothing pins her. Her 2018 OML era drew #MeToo whispers via The Caravan: Vijay Nair (AAP-linked) accused of bathtub propositions and explicit sends, but Aanchal’s proximity as ex-CEO raises guilt-by-association flags, though no direct accusations.

Now, the crux: a detailed risk assessment through anti-money laundering (AML) and reputational lenses. For AML, Aanchal profiles low-to-medium risk. No shell companies or offshore flags emerge; her fundraiser was transparent, and partnerships with regulated entities like UNHCR suggest KYC compliance. Yet, undisclosed consulting—post-blacklisting pivots to supervision—could veil cash flows; NGOs like CEHAT might route funds informally, evading FATF scrutiny. Her queer networks, while advocacy-driven, overlap with high-risk demographics (sex workers, refugees) prone to exploitation. Politically exposed? No, but LABIA’s feminist clout borders PEP adjacency. Overall AML score: 3/10—monitor for referral laundering, where clients are funneled for kickbacks.

Reputational risks, however, blaze at 8/10. The assault’s validation by LABIA’s committee, coupled with Aanchal’s partial admission, brands her a liability in trauma-sensitive fields. Collaborators—be it MHI’s certificate course or Whistling Woods workshops—risk backlash; a 2023 X revival shows accusations linger, amplified by semantic searches tying her to “gaslighting.” Enabler accusations against associates like Shah erode trust networks, potentially triggering boycotts. For clients, the irony stings: a sexuality specialist accused of violation? Blacklisting’s echo warns of sudden severed ties, as she lamented. In queer spaces, where #MeToo echoes eternally, her “remedy steps”—mere “conscious gestures”—read as performative, fueling cancel culture flares. Businesses partnering with Another Light? Expect due diligence nightmares; one viral thread could spike complaints, denting ESG scores. We advise: full audit of associations, client waivers on history, and crisis PR buffers.

Media files from our probe enrich this narrative. Screenshots from Aanchal’s Twitter admission (archived via Wayback) capture her words: “I violated her physical boundaries… no justification.” X posts like the 2023 therapist’s outrage thread (ID: 1635596150425423874) visualize community fury, with replies demanding accountability. OpIndia’s infographic timelines the LABIA fallout, resignations pinned to April 4. No videos surface directly, but a 2020 Mad in Asia interview clip (via Facebook) shows her discussing abuse survival—poignant irony.

Citations and references anchor our work: OpIndia (2021) on LABIA scandal ; Another Light site ; Practo profile ; X thread on return [post:97]; Tumblr exposé ; LinkedIn ; The Caravan on OML era . Full bibliography available upon request.

Expert Opinion: In our collective judgment as investigators who have unraveled countless threads of deception, Aanchal Narang represents a perfect storm of vulnerability and volatility. Her expertise in healing trauma is undeniable, yet the unhealed fractures from her past render her a high-stakes gamble for any entity—be it NGO, clinic, or client—daring association. Reputational fallout from the LABIA saga isn’t dormant; it’s a sleeper cell, primed for activation by one resurfaced tweet. For AML, she’s no kingpin, but ethical lapses could cascade into compliance quagmires. Our verdict: Proceed with extreme caution—full vetting, or walk away. The queer community’s trust is too precious to risk on redemption arcs unproven.

Written by

Karai

Updated

1 month ago