"I am an interdisciplinary artist exploring how sound, though fleeting and invisible, can shape form, space, and memory. My practice is grounded in embodied listening, tuning into how sound is not only heard but also felt, touched, and remembered. I treat sound as a material presence, one that can move through objects, deform surfaces, and leave traces in space.

Through sculptural installations and sensorial compositions, I work with the idea that sound can take on shape not by fixing it, but by allowing it to resonate within and around materials. I’m interested in the moment when sound becomes more than just an auditory experience, when it begins to activate the physicality of a space or object. In this way, form is not static, it becomes responsive, shifting and breathing with the acoustic energies moving through it. Memory plays a central role in my work. I see it as both a listener and a translator—holding onto what fades and returning it through movement, rhythm, and sculptural gestures. I often work with landscapes, objects, and spaces that seem silent, uncovering the auditory imprints they hold.

My installations invite viewers to engage through multiple senses, using movement and gesture to reawaken past sonic experiences. I am drawn to the in-between spaces between what we hear and what we feel, between presence and absence. I want to create environments that slow us down, invite attention, and open up space for deep listening. For me, sound is not just temporal it is sculptural, emotional, and alive. Through my practice, I aim to give form to what slips away and build spaces where we can listen with the whole body.”

"I am an interdisciplinary artist exploring how sound, though fleeting and invisible, can shape form, space, and memory. My practice is grounded in embodied listening, tuning into how sound is not only heard but also felt, touched, and remembered. I treat sound as a material presence, one that can move through objects, deform surfaces, and leave traces in space.

Through sculptural installations and sensorial compositions, I work with the idea that sound can take on shape not by fixing it, but by allowing it to resonate within and around materials. I’m interested in the moment when sound becomes more than just an auditory experience, when it begins to activate the physicality of a space or object. In this way, form is not static, it becomes responsive, shifting and breathing with the acoustic energies moving through it. Memory plays a central role in my work. I see it as both a listener and a translator—holding onto what fades and returning it through movement, rhythm, and sculptural gestures. I often work with landscapes, objects, and spaces that seem silent, uncovering the auditory imprints they hold.

My installations invite viewers to engage through multiple senses, using movement and gesture to reawaken past sonic experiences. I am drawn to the in-between spaces between what we hear and what we feel, between presence and absence. I want to create environments that slow us down, invite attention, and open up space for deep listening. For me, sound is not just temporal it is sculptural, emotional, and alive. Through my practice, I aim to give form to what slips away and build spaces where we can listen with the whole body.”

“My rage is not my own; it belongs to my mother and her mother before her.” My practice exploresgender identity, performativity, and the constructs of girlhood within South Asian visual and materialculture. I focus on how gendered spaces shape and confine identity, using a mix of ink, gouache, oilpastels, and mixed media to create installations, soft sculptures and elongated paper scrolls. Theseworks offer one space to inhabit, reflecting the fluidity of identity. Influenced by my family history—Mymother was the first generation of women in her family to come onto the urban landscape during theBPO boom of the 2000s.

Without a formal education, she juggled her domestic life with her work, eventually breaking out ofboth. My paternal grandmother was an Olympian and a doctor, yet finally succumbed to her domesticlife, dying at an early age. Not much is said of her mother, my father's grandmother was an artist whostudied at the JJ School of Arts; she too spent her life as a homemaker and died as one. Growing up,“woman of the house” was the term constantly used to keep everyone belonging in line; submissionwas perceived as righteous or ethical “The good girl.” issomeone who abides....I investigate howidentities are performed and occasionally resisted, focusing on the lived experiences that arefrequently concealed in the garb of domestic. Reflecting on my mixed urban and rural background, Idelicately traverse the line between tradition and transgression, while challenging ideas of innocence,purity, and control. Through grotesque, playful, and taboo elements, I explore gender, agency, andselfhood. Using cloth, rice paper, and other materials, my sculptures and drawings mimic the humanbody, inviting interaction and confronting viewers with the complexities of sexuality and selfexpression.

By incorporating audio and mechanical elements, my works come alive, encouraging engagementand revealing the intergenerational transmission of emotion and experience. My soft sculptures,designed for tactile involvement, challenge the viewer to reconsider identity, agency, and themateriality of the body.”

“My rage is not my own; it belongs to my mother and her mother before her.” My practice exploresgender identity, performativity, and the constructs of girlhood within South Asian visual and materialculture. I focus on how gendered spaces shape and confine identity, using a mix of ink, gouache, oilpastels, and mixed media to create installations, soft sculptures and elongated paper scrolls. Theseworks offer one space to inhabit, reflecting the fluidity of identity. Influenced by my family history—Mymother was the first generation of women in her family to come onto the urban landscape during theBPO boom of the 2000s.

Without a formal education, she juggled her domestic life with her work, eventually breaking out ofboth. My paternal grandmother was an Olympian and a doctor, yet finally succumbed to her domesticlife, dying at an early age. Not much is said of her mother, my father's grandmother was an artist whostudied at the JJ School of Arts; she too spent her life as a homemaker and died as one. Growing up,“woman of the house” was the term constantly used to keep everyone belonging in line; submissionwas perceived as righteous or ethical “The good girl.” issomeone who abides....I investigate howidentities are performed and occasionally resisted, focusing on the lived experiences that arefrequently concealed in the garb of domestic. Reflecting on my mixed urban and rural background, Idelicately traverse the line between tradition and transgression, while challenging ideas of innocence,purity, and control. Through grotesque, playful, and taboo elements, I explore gender, agency, andselfhood. Using cloth, rice paper, and other materials, my sculptures and drawings mimic the humanbody, inviting interaction and confronting viewers with the complexities of sexuality and selfexpression.

By incorporating audio and mechanical elements, my works come alive, encouraging engagementand revealing the intergenerational transmission of emotion and experience. My soft sculptures,designed for tactile involvement, challenge the viewer to reconsider identity, agency, and themateriality of the body.”

“For me, art and life are inseparable—a truth evident in the transformative experiences I seek and thework I create. Over the past year, a trip to the trans-Himalayan region of Ladakh has driven my work.Immersed in its vast landscapes and communities, I began to grasp the transience of my ownexistence and found deep resonance with Indo-Tibetan Buddhist philosophy, particularly theprinciples of interconnectedness and dependent origination. These insights inspired a commitment tomindfulness and a way of living that seeks harmony with one’s surroundings.

In a world increasingly driven by speed and consumption, I believe connectedness and passion havebecome more essential than ever. I see my potential for impact beginning at the immediate, everydaylevel—with the intention to live attentively and engage fully with the present. For me, creating art ishence a quiet rebellion against the distractions and fragmentation of modern life. It demands acentring of thought and a synchronisation of mind and body that few other activities offer. My practiceand my being are deeply entwined; painting, as a process, nurtures sensitivity, rootedness, and joy

I work with materials in a way that balances control with chance—allowing their inherent qualities andaccidents to inform the image while guiding them with intention. This approach echoes my largerphilosophy of embracing serendipity while remaining attentive. My creative practice extends beyondthe studio as well, encompassing conversations, photography, writing poetry, reading, music, andtravel—all of which are integral, transformative experiences that in the future I aim to document andshare as part of my artistic journey.”

“For me, art and life are inseparable—a truth evident in the transformative experiences I seek and thework I create. Over the past year, a trip to the trans-Himalayan region of Ladakh has driven my work.Immersed in its vast landscapes and communities, I began to grasp the transience of my ownexistence and found deep resonance with Indo-Tibetan Buddhist philosophy, particularly theprinciples of interconnectedness and dependent origination. These insights inspired a commitment tomindfulness and a way of living that seeks harmony with one’s surroundings.

In a world increasingly driven by speed and consumption, I believe connectedness and passion havebecome more essential than ever. I see my potential for impact beginning at the immediate, everydaylevel—with the intention to live attentively and engage fully with the present. For me, creating art ishence a quiet rebellion against the distractions and fragmentation of modern life. It demands acentring of thought and a synchronisation of mind and body that few other activities offer. My practiceand my being are deeply entwined; painting, as a process, nurtures sensitivity, rootedness, and joy

I work with materials in a way that balances control with chance—allowing their inherent qualities andaccidents to inform the image while guiding them with intention. This approach echoes my largerphilosophy of embracing serendipity while remaining attentive. My creative practice extends beyondthe studio as well, encompassing conversations, photography, writing poetry, reading, music, andtravel—all of which are integral, transformative experiences that in the future I aim to document andshare as part of my artistic journey.”

“For me, the wall is not merely a surface. It is a silent archive, a breathing canvas where time etchesits passage and society leaves behind its flickering shadows. It holds the residue of lives lived, ofdreams and decay, of moments both sacred and mundane. My art practice is born from this wall—aspace of transition, memory, and reflection. It is here that I gather the fleeting impressions of a city inconstant motion and transform them into intimate symbols that speak to my relationship with Kolkata:my muse, my home, my ever-shifting inspiration.

My journey as an artist was seeded in the labyrinthine lanes of College Street—a place whereknowledge and nostalgia coexist. The scent of yellowed pages, the rustle of conversations underrain- washed tin roofs, the rhythm of tram bells and footfall—all conspired to shape my earlysensibilities. It was in this charged atmosphere that I first learned to see, not just with the eyes butwith the skin, with memory, with emotion. The city unfolded before me not as a fixed geography, butas a living organism— layered, wounded, defiant, and beautiful in its disarray.

Over time, I developed a visual language rooted in the overlooked, the eroded, the perishable. I founda strange poetry in the damp stains that bloom like silent flowers on old plastered walls, in the tornremnants of movie posters that once announced stories now forgotten, in the grime that gently dullsthe brilliance of timeworn facades. These elements—often dismissed as ruin or neglect—becameessential to my vocabulary. They embodied the city's lived history, its emotional residue, its sensoryrichness.

My early works were almost archaeological in nature—an attempt to excavate and preserve thememory embedded in walls, in corners, in textures that had witnessed generations. I sought to bridgethe past and the present, to hold space for what was slipping away under the pressures of modernity.The old homes of North Kolkata, with their deep verandas, intricate ironwork, and haunted light,became not just motifs but metaphors—for fragility, for resilience, for silence. But the city I love ischanging, and not gently. In recent years, I have witnessed the systematic erasure of this cultural andarchitectural heritage. Elegant old homes, saturated with warmth and memory, are being razed to theground—replaced by anonymous towers that rise like mute sentinels, offering no poetry, no soul. Theland mafia and the relentless march of real estate ambition are stripping the city of its texture, itsnuance, its heartbeat. My art has become an act of resistance against this slow violence. I am tryingto salvage what remains—not just the physical structures, but the moods, the echoes, the psychicimprints of a vanishing world.

Increasingly, my work is also a meditation on the shifting inner landscapes of the city's people. As theskyline changes, so do our relationships—with each other, with space, with time. There is a growingsense of alienation, of emotional desaturation, as if the city’s psyche is slowly being paved over.Through my paintings and mixed media installations, I try to hold up a mirror to this transformation—to show how urban life, once rich in intimacy and idiosyncrasy, is becoming increasingly fragmentedand distant.

Ultimately, my work is an invitation to remember. To look again. To feel. To recognize the quiet beautyin what is fading. It is a call to engage with our environment not just as inhabitants, but as custodiansof memory, of meaning, of soul. In documenting the decay, I hope to offer continuity. In reflecting theloss, I try to preserve a sense of belonging. And in every layer I lay down, I am asking—what does itmean to belong to a city that is forgetting itself?”

“For me, the wall is not merely a surface. It is a silent archive, a breathing canvas where time etchesits passage and society leaves behind its flickering shadows. It holds the residue of lives lived, ofdreams and decay, of moments both sacred and mundane. My art practice is born from this wall—aspace of transition, memory, and reflection. It is here that I gather the fleeting impressions of a city inconstant motion and transform them into intimate symbols that speak to my relationship with Kolkata:my muse, my home, my ever-shifting inspiration.

My journey as an artist was seeded in the labyrinthine lanes of College Street—a place whereknowledge and nostalgia coexist. The scent of yellowed pages, the rustle of conversations underrain- washed tin roofs, the rhythm of tram bells and footfall—all conspired to shape my earlysensibilities. It was in this charged atmosphere that I first learned to see, not just with the eyes butwith the skin, with memory, with emotion. The city unfolded before me not as a fixed geography, butas a living organism— layered, wounded, defiant, and beautiful in its disarray.

Over time, I developed a visual language rooted in the overlooked, the eroded, the perishable. I founda strange poetry in the damp stains that bloom like silent flowers on old plastered walls, in the tornremnants of movie posters that once announced stories now forgotten, in the grime that gently dullsthe brilliance of timeworn facades. These elements—often dismissed as ruin or neglect—becameessential to my vocabulary. They embodied the city's lived history, its emotional residue, its sensoryrichness.

My early works were almost archaeological in nature—an attempt to excavate and preserve thememory embedded in walls, in corners, in textures that had witnessed generations. I sought to bridgethe past and the present, to hold space for what was slipping away under the pressures of modernity.The old homes of North Kolkata, with their deep verandas, intricate ironwork, and haunted light,became not just motifs but metaphors—for fragility, for resilience, for silence. But the city I love ischanging, and not gently. In recent years, I have witnessed the systematic erasure of this cultural andarchitectural heritage. Elegant old homes, saturated with warmth and memory, are being razed to theground—replaced by anonymous towers that rise like mute sentinels, offering no poetry, no soul. Theland mafia and the relentless march of real estate ambition are stripping the city of its texture, itsnuance, its heartbeat. My art has become an act of resistance against this slow violence. I am tryingto salvage what remains—not just the physical structures, but the moods, the echoes, the psychicimprints of a vanishing world.

Increasingly, my work is also a meditation on the shifting inner landscapes of the city's people. As theskyline changes, so do our relationships—with each other, with space, with time. There is a growingsense of alienation, of emotional desaturation, as if the city’s psyche is slowly being paved over.Through my paintings and mixed media installations, I try to hold up a mirror to this transformation—to show how urban life, once rich in intimacy and idiosyncrasy, is becoming increasingly fragmentedand distant.

Ultimately, my work is an invitation to remember. To look again. To feel. To recognize the quiet beautyin what is fading. It is a call to engage with our environment not just as inhabitants, but as custodiansof memory, of meaning, of soul. In documenting the decay, I hope to offer continuity. In reflecting theloss, I try to preserve a sense of belonging. And in every layer I lay down, I am asking—what does itmean to belong to a city that is forgetting itself?”