For over a decade I have funnelled my ideas, experiments, idealism, all sorts of collaboration, and vulnerability through the vessel of my music project - Sandunes. I tended to it’s gardens with the deep conviction of my youth, and found it slowly becoming an extension of my identity — this is who I was, how I found my place in music and the world and how I made a living.
When I named the project I was only 22. It all came together during that delightful early-instagram-era where :
you took photos of fields and flowers,
nobody was a brand,
there was no such thing as skincare,
and the only people following you were stalkers.
Sharing was actually about finding your people and seeking community.
San-dunes was one of many nicknames coined by my then-guitarist and friend, Faiz - who had the best music taste and blew my mind by introducing me to Mount Kimbie and analogue sequencers. It came after san-francisco and san-disk, and sort of had a nice ring to it? Turned out a bit prophetic too. In the years that followed - this project shape shifted like literal sand dunes through my twenties and I found my feet in various scenes, across genres, partners, bands, venues, and studios.
Having a diversity of skillsets came out of necessity - if you wanted to do something new — you had to do it yourself. I went from performing alone, to performing with a band, from finger drumming, to playing minimal piano music, from bedroom downtempo, to scoring ad films. Everything was exploration, and every iteration was different. Being eclectic had been one of my strengths, even though the algorithms hate it and I’ve been told (mostly by men in the industry) that it’s confusing and hard to market.


Between 2012 -2015 was a time in Mumbai where the scene was largely unsaturated yet brimming with potential — it felt like we were building our eco-systems in real time. Everything hinging on the spirit of DIY which back then didn’t cause any burn out or back pain. We made our own CDs as merch, we crowd sourced music videos, started our own collectives and put together our own shows. Everything was made with friends, and very little fructified in isolation - in a way, community is baked into new beginnings and the myth of working alone loses it’s grip especially when you’re trying to start something new.
I’m sharing all of this context because that’s exactly where I’ve found myself again - at a new beginning and with lots of new projects simmering on the stove. It’s been nearly 2 years since we left the literal comfort zone i.e. Mumbai and moved to Los Angeles. Somehow, starting from scratch grants access to more courage than you thought you had. As if confronting the big fear of being nobody, by going to a place where nobody knows you, forms the basis for an unhinged commitment to the practice, the idea, the philosophy? Possibly because it feels like you’ve already put everything on the line by leaving behind what’s known. All that’s left is to do is to lean in.
It’s in this umbrella of feeling brave that I’m not sure will last, that I’m also about to begin releasing music and work under my actual name. For the first time with no shield of an artist moniker or anything nebulous to pretend behind - just me, my insecurities, my hope that music and co-creation can change the world, and the endeavour to externalise it all in a way that makes space for imperfection and humanity.
Ps : I’m sitting in an aisle seat on an aircraft as I write this, on my way to attend my first rehearsal as part of a project in this new vein. This weekend, I’ll be workshopping a piece I composed for the 16 piece ensemble — Alarm Will Sound which explores the ecological and cultural significance of vulture collapse in the Indian subcontinent.
New beginnings are beautiful. Scary, but beautiful. Looking forward to new music - I still love 'Feel Me From The Inside' oh so very much.
The beginning is the end is the beginning. More power to you, friend.