“Chennai feels deeply personal to me. I drive around the city with my fur babies most days. Wherever I go, Muffin comes along. Even when I hang out with friends, he is usually part of the plan. Some of my favourite memories are simple ones. Long drives, breezy evenings, and spending time at Besant Nagar or Marina when the days feel heavy.

The beaches, the sand, the sound of the waves, and those quiet moments with my fur baby mean everything to me. Chennai has held space for all versions of me, and in its own gentle way, it has always felt like home.

There were two moments that deeply changed how I look at life.

When I started teaching, my days slowly filled with responsibilities, routines, and expectations, and somewhere along the way, dance, the part of me that once felt like pure freedom, began to pause. Dance was never just a hobby for me. It came from within, a space beyond words where I felt lighter, freer, and most honest, where I could express emotions I couldn’t explain. But when teaching began and then COVID reshaped life entirely, routines changed, responsibilities increased, and balancing work with dance became harder than I ever imagined. Slowly, not by choice but by circumstance, dance slipped into the background, and with it, I felt like I was losing a version of myself. That pause was painful, yet it taught me how quietly passions can fade, how deeply identity is tied to the things we love, and how important it is to acknowledge and grieve even the invisible losses.

The second turning point was losing Muffin. When he passed away, my world shattered in ways I didn’t know were possible. The silence he left behind still echoes in my heart. I knew I couldn’t bring myself to have another dog not because I didn’t have love to give, but because the loss had changed me.

Instead, I chose to channel that love differently. I started Kindnest Animal Welfare for the strays around me, for food, medical care, and adoption. Caring for them became my way of healing. It reminded me that love doesn’t end it transforms. And sometimes, out of the deepest pain, you find a purpose you never planned for.

I was born and brought up in Chennai. I’m an architect and an assistant professor by profession and a Classical Dancer, Bharatanatyam, by passion for the past 28 years.

The people who’ve shaped me most are the ones who showed me kindness without conditions. My little fur balls, my guru, my family, my teachers, my friends who believed in me when I doubted myself, and students who unknowingly taught me patience, empathy, and perspective.

Over a decade and more, I’ve also been deeply shaped by my bond with pets, especially stray dogs. Caring for them has softened me, slowed me down, and reminded me that love doesn’t need language.

Sometimes love doesn’t come from a home with walls and people. Sometimes it sits quietly on a roadside, ribs showing, eyes searching every passing face for a little kindness. A stray or voiceless being doesn’t know what luxury feels like, but it knows hunger, fear, and rejection. And yet, even after being ignored a hundred times, it still wags its tail the moment someone looks at it with warmth. That kind of hope, that kind of forgiveness, is pure love.

Over time, I’ve realised that who I am today is a collection of these small, everyday moments. None dramatic on their own, but deeply transformative together.”