Kabila is a culmination — for me, and for many people who are part of it.
It is a thoughtful edit of my life. An inward journey shaped by the people I met, the places I landed in unexpectedly, the experiences that quietly changed me and my insatiable curiosities.
I come from an average, middle-class South-Asian family of lawyers, teachers, and bankers. I followed a predictable path for a while — all the way to the United States, where I pursued a Master’s in Environmental Studies and lived what is often called the American dream. Somewhere along the way, I realised I was pretending to be a scientist while instinctively becoming something else — a musician, a photographer, perhaps an artist. None of it was planned.
Fourteen years later, I returned to India — my motherland — only to realise how little I knew her. Or perhaps how much I had changed. That realisation became the beginning of everything.
I travelled through villages, lived in mud houses, slept on hammocks, shared meals and celebrations, and learned from crafts, communities, natural dyeing practices, and textile traditions that carry generations of knowledge. I moved from reading 1,500-page technical reports to working closely with artisans. From heels and jackets to saris and laughter in rural India.
Somewhere along that journey, I found my Kabila — my people.
Kabila is an outcome of life lessons, struggles, failures, and the courage to pursue passions without a clear roadmap. A dream coming to fruition. I come to this without formal training in art or design, but with deep respect, responsibility, and intent. It has been a daunting journey, but I would rather fail than never try.
Building Kabila has been an act of balance — between where I come from and where I stand today. At its core, it is about community, capacity, and care. About making choices that are mindful of people and the planet, and designing with sensitivity towards each other and our surroundings.
This is my Kabila.