“Some dance to remember. Some dance to forget.”
I write to remember.
I write to reconnect—with family, with culture, and with the quiet wisdom hidden in everyday conversations.
WHY I WROTE THIS BOOK
I wrote this book during one of the hardest periods of my life. I was navigating a divorce, an uncertain job market, and the question of what home even means when the life you built starts to look unfamiliar. What I found, sitting with these muhavare, was that my parents had been answering that question for me all along — quietly, through language, for decades before I thought to ask it.
We are living through a time of extraordinary change. Careers are evolving, technology is reshaping how we live and work, economies feel uncertain, and many of us are searching for stability in a world that seems to shift beneath our feet. My hope is that this book offers a small sense of grounding—a reminder that while the world around us changes, the wisdom we inherit, the values we carry, and the stories that shape us can remain a steady place to return to.
BEGINNINGS
I grew up in Zambia, of Indian descent, in a home where Hindi idioms were part of the furniture — heard so often I stopped noticing them, the way you stop noticing the pictures on the walls. It wasn't until I left, at sixteen, alone on a plane to the United States, that I began to realize what I'd been carrying with me all along.
I've spent most of my adult life moving between worlds — Zambia and Iowa, Germany and Minnesota, corporate boardrooms and startup garages, being someone's daughter and someone's mother. Somewhere between those worlds, I discovered that identity isn't found in choosing one over another, but in learning to belong to all of them.
Lasting impact
By training and profession, I'm a product leader. I've spent two decades helping companies build technology products and bring them to market, across three continents and companies ranging from global enterprises to early-stage startups. But the work I'm most proud of is the work you're holding — or about to hold.
I am a mother, a recovering overthinker, a daredevil who took up skydiving despite a real fear of heights, and someone who learned to ride a bike at twenty to be able to ride the streets of Amsterdam with my work team. I collect the sayings I don't fully understand yet — because experience has taught me that the understanding always comes.