In moments of great uncertainty, I’ve always turned to stories.

For as long as I can remember, I have carried pieces of the past—some inherited, some uncovered, all waiting to be understood. The Wind Never Forgets began as a personal reckoning with those histories, a journey into memory, migration, and the weight of what is left unsaid.

My grandfather left Madras in 1943 at the height of war, abandoning everything he knew. The reasons were unclear. The questions, endless. His story is a shadow that has followed me, shaping the way I see belonging, survival, and the fine line between fate and choice. Writing became my way of making sense of it—of reconstructing lost narratives, of understanding my own place in a country that still calls me an outsider.

Over time, this project became more than just a book. It became a conversation. A space where history meets personal reflection, where the questions of one generation echo into the next. Here, we explore what it means to remember, to belong, to stand at the intersection of multiple identities and claim space anyway.

Stories, I’ve learned, are not just about the past. They shape the future. They remind us who we are. They challenge us to see beyond borders—those drawn on maps and those embedded in our minds.

I believe that writing is an act of defiance, of preservation, of love. I hope you’ll join me.