A Decade of Finding My Voice (30–39)

At thirty, I treated curiosity like a daily practice. 

 In 2016 -when I turned 30, New York became my wide-open classroom: my first open mic, SGI-USA and even a curious peek at Scientology, long walks from Fulton Center to DUMBO and Long Island City’s water views, Smorgasburg Saturdays, bowling nights, a cronut, Beetle House and Brooklyn Bowl, a Coldplay concert, the US Open and a Mets game. 

 

I cycled the city with strangers, wandered the Museum of Jewish Heritage and the 9/11 Memorial, and let Devoción coffee and Williamsburg’s cats keep me company. There were reunions and stages too—back home for a school reunion, and onstage for a talk at the Icon Business Forum. That year felt like a permission slip: explore, connect, try.

 

When I was 31 years old, momentum met discipline. I ran the Mumbai Marathon with Sumeet and, on my own steam, conceived and conducted Limits Make Things Too Small as a full-fledged event. 

 

When I was 32 years old, widened both circle and horizon—long, easy hangouts with Mitesh, Praveen, Robin, Bimal, Sibtain and crew; a poetry habit taking root; a trip to Japan; another pilgrimage to New York; and the Samman Mumbai Marathon, tying movement to meaning and celebrated Avanti’s wedding

 

When I was 33 years old, the creative identity I’d been testing in open rooms began to solidify. I worked with Juzer & Company (7 Seeds) and kept showing up to read and perform: Inkstation, The Habitat, The Quill Company’s Cat Café, Sophia, QTube Café, Poshak, YourQuotes, and a feature with Open Stage. 

 

The Vice-President of the David Sassoon Library requested copies of my poetry book, Limits Make Things Too Small, for their shelves—a quiet, luminous validation. 

 

I travelled solo to London and celebrated Diwali with Varsha and gang, met writer Anuja Chauhan. The inner toolkit expanded, too—Inner Engineering, Anger Management, and a jury stint for the Jashn-e-Rizvi festival sharpened attention and empathy.

 

The pandemic years didn’t dim the creative engine.

 

When I was 34 years old, I focused on 6262 fitness, hosted Open Mic Hooted Ice, spoke at ThinkersPoint on “Learning the Craft of Writing,” and published Digital Epoch. 

 

When I was 35  and 36 years old I released Touching Void… Surviving a Car Accident, returned to New York, wandered the Van Gogh Immersive, visited Baa, went to Disneyland, and reset at the Indus Valley Ayurvedic Center. 

I studied nonfiction with Rashmi Bansal, kept cooking and performing poetry—the ordinary rituals that keep the extraordinary going.

The publishing arc crested and kept cresting. 

 

When I was 37 years old I published New York Wakes to Culture. In 2023 I spoke at In Search of Julian, launched the book, saw it displayed at the Delhi Book Fair and on Colaba Causeway, and kept saying yes—to potlucks (including a “Murdaugh Murders” watch-party version), to Woodside Inn hangs, to another New York visit (The Empire State Building still dazzles), to the Samman walkathon and volunteering with Angel Express, to judging a mono-acting competition at Air India Idea School, to the Ajio Luxe event, to Vipassana, and to showing up for (Kaajal’s 40th).

 

By 38, the inner work moved to the front row. I studied Positive Psychology, Inner Child Healing, Divine Feminine Mastery, balanced it with Naturopathy, a Yoga Retreat, a Writing Retreat, and long walks by the Ganga while exploring Rishikesh. Training the mind and tending the body became the ground from which the writing could rise.

 

At 39, the circle closed and widened at once. I published Inside Mumbai: Stories from the Heart of a Vibrant City, a love letter to place and people—proof that the decade wasn’t just miles and stages, but an ongoing conversation with two cities that shaped me. I kept building craft and community with Creative Garh, still saying yes to the next room, the next page.

 

If my thirties had a thesis, it would be this: movement plus meaning equals voice. I ran marathons and open mics, crossed oceans and neighborhoods, learned to host a room and to be held by one, studied the mind to steady the page, and turned performances into publications. 

 

New York offered me velocity; Mumbai gave me roots. 

Between thirty and thirty-nine, I unlearned the idea that belonging is a place you finally reach. It’s a practice—of showing up, creating, serving, and letting the work keep making a home big enough to grow in.