I believe every object holds a story, and every observer holds a key.

I’m a seeker of such stories tucked inside forgotten things—an old journal left behind at a train station, a button lost beneath floorboards, an object that seems to carry the weight of a hundred hands. I write to understand the ghosts I carry, and the ones I meet along the way.

This book was born during a time when I had lost a lot
and, for a while, my sense of direction too. Writing became both compass and companion.

I write in fragments and freefall, in rhymes that sometimes forgets to rhyme, in verses tilting toward grief, mystery, and myth. When I’m not writing, I’m probably rereading something that already knows me, or watching the sky like it might finally answer back.

I grew up in Kolkata, India.
With a degree in biotech and a poet’s pulse,
I work in both worlds…where story hopes to meet cell.

This is my first book.
If you’re holding this, thank you. And if these pages have stirred something in you, then all the objects and stories I’ve followed have found their way home.