Chronic overthinker, part-time storyteller, and full-time romantic.

I started this blog during one of those “What am I even doing with my life?” spirals, armed with too many tabs open, questionable sleep, and a half-formed plan to document the beautiful chaos of becoming. Since then, this space has turned into my digital attic—a place where I store existential rambles, half-polished thoughts, and the occasional uninvited introspection.

I’m 26. I’ve moved across cities and continents (shoutout to Mumbai, Amsterdam, and now Boston), carried suitcases full of books I probably won’t finish, and followed my heart (quite literally), to the other side of the globe. I live with my best friend and partner (who also happens to be an astrophysicist so if you see a random planet reference, blame him).

By training, I’m a linguist with a second Master’s in public policy (read: I ask big questions and never stop at simple answers). I write to make sense of the world—its violence, its beauty, its worn-out edges. I’ve been researching stories; about independence, displacement, resilience, and sometimes, Bengal textiles that have seen more history than any of us ever will.

I believe in the healing power of mystery novels, the right to rewrite your story at any age, and that love is still the most rebellious thing we can choose in a world like this.
If you’re into books, letters never sent, murder mysteries, awkward beginnings, historical rabbit holes, or late-night spirals about what it means to “arrive,” you’ll feel right at home.

Welcome to whykamalikawhy.com , a blog with no map, only breadcrumbs. Stay as long as you’d like.