Hey beautiful soul,

I’m Vijaya— An Earthian. A Human. A Woman. A Curly head.
I’m obsessed with black… Sure, I may look like a deep, serious soul around here —
but trust me, my heart’s all rainbow and wild skies. Ever seen that song from Highway — Patakha Guddi? I AM ONE—a free-soaring kite, unbound and dancing with the wind. Honestly, it captures my very soul. It mirrors my spirit.

I’m an astrophile, endlessly enchanted by the universe. The Sun? He’s my forever-distant love. My favorite star, always.

I am an Earth-crazy soul, The Earth grounds me, holds me — she’s always felt like home. I don’t just find peace in her lap, I find myself.

I am a pluviophile , a  thalassophile —deeply in love with skies, rains, and every shoreline that ever touched my soul.

I’m someone who feels deeply. Empathy is a big part of who I am — I notice, absorb, and hold space for what others carry quietly.

Some days I overthink everything; some days I just sit with silence. Both teach me something.
I’m deep, yeah. But I also laugh too much. I talk endlessly. I am a chatterbox. I wear my heart on my sleeve.
I fall apart over a missed sunset. And when things actually fall apart, I turn into stone.
I fall over nothing. I’m clumsy. I’m raw. I hug with all my heart. I’m messy, and I am real.

This is me, in a nutshell.
Wanna dig deeper? Go ahead—scroll down.

My Roots

I hail from Satara, a small town cradled in the hills of Maharashtra, India.
A place not short of heavens—where clouds wander through skies like old souls, brushing rooftops, trees, and the quiet hearts of people as grounded and beautiful as the land itself.
Raw. Real. Rooted.

I’m a country girl at heart, raised on grounded values and quiet strength. My roots run deep, and my approach to life is simple. I’ve always been a blend of traditional and modern—someone who deeply respects where she comes from, yet walks hand in hand with the modern world.

Eventually, I settled by the sea—in the fast pulse of Mumbai, the city of dreams— a contrast to my hometown, yet a mirror to my own longing for more.

Education & Profession

Though I spent years studying computer sciences, I always sensed I was meant for something more. Something that didn’t just rely on codes and formulas,
but on color, feeling, rhythm— a field where I could create, not just compute.

I now live and work in the realm of creativity, where art meets meaning, and emotion meets expression. For me, design is not just about visuals—
it’s about telling the truth softly, with form and feeling.

Family & Values

I come from a big, loving family (5 siblings, mom-dad, and loving gramma (now resting in peace) ) — a home where values were passed through gestures more than words.
Where I was taught to value people, presence, and the quiet strength of showing up.

The walls I grew up within didn’t echo societal norms. They never defined my worth by my gender. They didn’t hand me a handbook of what a woman should or shouldn’t be.
There was no hierarchy to follow—only love to live by. It wasn’t until I stepped out into the world that I realized just how rare and radical that kind of freedom was.

My Becoming

When I left the safety of home to chase the horizons of my dreams, I met a world that questioned me, labeled me, judged me, tried to shrink me. I met resistance, confusion, noise. But through it all—I kept moving.

Falling. Unlearning. Healing.
And slowly, I was becoming.

Each chapter of my life revealed colors I hadn’t seen before, and questions I didn’t even know I was holding:
Who am I—beyond what the world tells me to be?
What does it mean to be a woman, a mother, a soul living in skin?
What do I hold sacred, and what must I unlearn?

Today, I don’t have all the answers. But I carry the questions with reverence.
And I write—because writing has always been my way of listening back to life.

I wasn’t sure if I should bring these thoughts into the world— whether the internet was the right place for something this tender, this personal. But after sitting with it, turning it over, I knew:

I’m not here to polish my pain or to prove anything. I am here to say it out loud, finally..
what’s been stayed too long inside of me..

And I know the voices calling me from within are not mine alone—
These are the muffled voices of many—and they deserve to be heard.

So here I am.
Not finished. Not flawless. Imperfect, yes. But real. Raw.
 Uncurling the knots life left behind, with tenderness, not urgency.

—V 🙂 

Scenes That Breathe My Feelings

Gravity

That final scene in Gravity — where she crawls onto the shore, drenched and shaking, and clutches the mud—moves me beyond words. The way she clutches the Earth says more than any words ever could.

There’s such humbleness in that moment—a silent thank you whispered into the Earth. It reminds me how precious it is to belong here on Earth, to feel the pull of gravity. It reminds me how blessed we are just to stand here, to feel grass underfoot, to have wind kiss our faces, to breathe air that smells of rain and soil. It’s more than survival; it’s Love! And in that fragile, muddy embrace, I see the most honest expression of what it means to belong here and that’s exactly how I feel about this beautiful place we get to belong to.

This planet is not just home; it’s a living, breathing miracle, and I’m endlessly grateful to be the tiniest, fleeting part of its vast, beautiful story.

Interstellar

The moment in Interstellar when Cooper watches decades of messages from his children — eyes wide with grief, love, and the weight of lost time. It’s raw humanity stretched across the cosmos.

How painful it must be, watching your children slip through time without you — their faces growing older, their lives unfolding, while you’re stuck light-years away, trapped in a slow-motion drift. That promise to come back home starts to fade, tangled in the cruel tricks of relativity. Maybe there’s regret too, for ever leaving Earth, for stepping onto that ship and walking away from everything that truly mattered — his family, his daughter.

But then there’s love. Not just some fragile, human feeling — but a force, like gravity itself, reaching stubbornly across time and space. Maybe Dr. Brand was right: love isn’t bound by dimensions the way we are. It cuts through all of it, refuses to be lost, quietly holding on when everything else slips away.