There are mornings I still remember — the cool dust on the road, the sound of bicycles passing by, the way the village felt like one small world where everyone knew one another. I grew up in that world: a rural village in India where school was a short walk away, stories were shared over cups of chai, and curiosity seemed to arrive with every visitor. Those small, ordinary moments taught me to notice things: a gesture, a phrase, a face that told a story of its own.
I followed that curiosity to the university and eventually earned a master’s degree in journalism. Becoming a journalist taught me how to listen closely, to ask the right questions, and to shape everyday moments into clear, honest stories. It also reminded me that every place — no matter how quiet or small — holds a thousand little histories waiting to be noticed.
Travel is how I keep learning. For me, journeys aren’t only about checking off destinations; they’re about the slow discoveries made between buses and markets, the friends you make over shared meals, and the unexpected conversations that change the way you think. I carry a small notebook and a patient curiosity: sometimes I write about a market I wandered through at dawn, other times about a book that stayed with me on a long train ride. Music, too, follows me — the songs that rise in the background of a memory and make it easier to tell.