My work sits at the intersection of pedagogy and performance. As an educator I design courses and lead teams; as the founder of Naatya Mandalam I teach classical dance as its own form of literacy. Both practices ask the same question: how does a body — or a mind — learn something it doesn't yet know how to do?
I have never quite fit into one box.
I began my academic journey in engineering. Somewhere along the way, however, another language had already begun shaping the way I understood the world: Bharatanatyam. More than twelve years of training in the classical Indian dance form eventually led me to pursue a Master's in Dance Research at the University of Chichester.
Looking back, these paths may appear unrelated. To me, they have always belonged to the same story.
Engineering taught me to observe systems, understand structures, ask questions, and solve problems. Dance taught me to listen to the body, notice relationships, work with space and time, interpret meaning, and understand that there can be many ways of arriving at an answer. Research taught me to question what I thought I knew.
Education became the place where all three came together.
My journey as an educator began with dance, but it did not stay there.
Working with young people made me realise that the classroom is itself a creative space. A lesson has rhythm. A curriculum has structure. A learner's journey has movement. A teacher is constantly making choices about space, time, relationships, language, attention, challenge, and possibility.
The more I taught, the more interested I became in the design of learning itself. I began asking questions that went beyond What should I teach? I became more interested in:
Those questions continue to shape my work today.
I currently work in school education as a Teaching & Learning Lead for Arts, working across Music, Theatre, Dance, and Visual Arts. My work spans curriculum design, teacher development, mentoring, assessment, interdisciplinary learning, classroom practice, and school-wide approaches to teaching and learning.
But I don't see my role simply as leading an arts department. I see it as contributing to a larger conversation about what education can be.
The arts have taught me that learning is rarely linear. We learn through doing, observing, experimenting, failing, revisiting, interpreting, collaborating, and reflecting. We learn through our bodies as much as through our minds. We learn when we encounter ambiguity and have to make meaning for ourselves.
These are not qualities that belong only in an art room. They are essential to learning in every discipline — and increasingly essential to living in a world that is complex, interconnected, and constantly changing.
This is why I am deeply interested in interdisciplinary education. I believe that some of the most meaningful learning happens in the spaces between subjects, between ideas, and between ways of knowing.
My work has gradually moved from lesson planning to learning design, from individual classrooms to larger educational systems.
I think about curriculum as an architecture for possibility.
A good curriculum should provide structure without becoming restrictive. It should offer direction without taking away agency. It should create opportunities for learners to question, connect, experiment, create, communicate, and reflect.
I am particularly interested in designing learning that develops the whole learner — not simply what they know, but how they think, how they respond to uncertainty, how they work with others, how they make decisions, how they communicate, and what they value.
This is also why teacher development is such an important part of my work. Schools cannot become places of meaningful learning unless educators themselves have the opportunity to remain learners.
I am interested in professional development that moves beyond workshops and information delivery towards reflection, experimentation, dialogue, practice, and genuine professional agency. I believe teachers need spaces where they can ask difficult questions about their practice without feeling that every question has to have an immediate answer.
A significant part of my work today is driven by a simple observation: the world our students are preparing to enter is changing rapidly.
Technology is transforming work. Artificial intelligence is changing how knowledge is produced and accessed. Industries are evolving. New careers are emerging while existing ones are being redesigned. Climate change, social complexity, global interdependence, and shifting notions of identity and community are changing the contexts in which young people will live and work.
And yet, many educational systems continue to organise learning around structures that were designed for a very different world. This tension fascinates me.
I am interested in how schools can become more responsive without becoming reactionary. How curriculum can remain rigorous while becoming more relevant. How technology can be integrated without displacing human connection. How we can prepare young people for careers that may not yet exist without reducing education to employability.
Most importantly, I am interested in what remains deeply human.
These are some of the capacities I believe education must protect and cultivate.
My work sits between practice and inquiry. I write about education, arts learning, teaching, curriculum, schools, and the experiences of educators. My research has explored the journey of a dance educator working within a K–12 space in India, and my continued work seeks to connect educational theory with the realities of classrooms and teachers.
I am also interested in developing frameworks and practical tools that help educators translate big educational ideas into meaningful learning experiences.
For me, research is most valuable when it returns to practice. And practice becomes richer when we are willing to question it.
Some of my most meaningful work has emerged through creating spaces where young people take ownership.
Through initiatives such as Kaafila, a student-led integrated arts festival, I have seen what becomes possible when students are trusted not simply to participate, but to conceptualise, organise, collaborate, make decisions, solve problems, communicate, and lead.
Agency cannot be taught only by talking about it. It has to be experienced.
The same principle applies to creativity, leadership, collaboration, and responsibility. If we want young people to become capable adults, we have to give them meaningful opportunities to practise being capable.
I don't think my work has a final destination yet — and I am quite comfortable with that. I see myself continuing to work across education, the arts, research, curriculum, and teacher development, building bridges between disciplines and between ideas and practice.
I want to contribute to schools that are ambitious about learning but equally ambitious about humanity. I want to support teachers who are not simply delivering education, but actively shaping what it can become. I want to create learning experiences in which the arts are understood not as an enrichment at the margins, but as a powerful way of thinking, knowing, communicating, and making sense of the world.
And I want to keep asking difficult questions. Because perhaps that is what my journey from engineering to dance to education has taught me most clearly:
The best education does not simply give us better answers. It teaches us how to ask better questions — and gives us the courage to keep exploring them.
An engaged brain is a learning brain.
I believe that meaningful learning begins with engagement — not simply attention, but the feeling that I have a reason to care, question, explore and contribute.
Every learner enters a classroom differently. My role as an educator is therefore not to find one way of teaching, but to create multiple pathways through which learners can connect with ideas, make meaning, and express what they understand.
The arts have deeply shaped this belief. They have taught me that learning can happen through movement, sound, image, story, experimentation and collaboration, and that the arts are not merely subjects to be learnt, but ways of knowing and making sense of the world.
I believe in learning that gives students genuine agency, connects ideas across disciplines, and allows them to work with real questions and real responsibilities. I believe in teachers as learners, and in professional development that builds judgement rather than simply prescribing practice.
Most importantly, I believe that learning does not exist in isolation. Classrooms are shaped by the systems, structures, relationships and cultures around them. Good education therefore requires both thoughtful systems and deeply human relationships.
Ultimately, I want education to help young people become curious, creative, thoughtful and courageous — not simply prepared for the world as it is, but capable of imagining and shaping what it could become.
Leadership should create the conditions for people to do their best work.
I believe leadership is less about having all the answers and more about creating the clarity, trust and conditions in which people can find good answers together.
Good leadership begins with listening — not as a performance, but as a genuine attempt to understand people, context and the systems within which they work. It requires the courage to ask difficult questions, challenge assumptions, and change course when the evidence tells us we should.
I believe in warmth without ambiguity and accountability without fear. People deserve to feel trusted, valued and heard, but they also deserve clarity about expectations, responsibilities and the purpose behind the work.
I see systems as an important part of leadership. Good systems should not constrain people; they should create the clarity and consistency that allow people to exercise judgement, creativity and ownership. When a system stops serving its purpose, leadership must have the courage to examine it rather than simply ask people to work harder within it.
I also believe leadership is about creating more leaders. This means giving people meaningful ownership, trusting them with responsibility, developing their capacity, and making space for different voices — including those that challenge our own thinking.
Ultimately, I want to lead in a way that leaves people more capable, more confident and more connected to the purpose of their work than when they began.
Leadership is not about becoming indispensable. It is about building people, systems and cultures that can thrive without you.