On March 8, 1997, my story began in the heart of Tumkur, Karnataka, as the son of Prakash N and Chandrika M. My childhood was shaped by the hum of heavy machineries. I watched my parents build a business from the ground up, navigating countless, grueling hurdles to turn a dream into a legacy of success. They taught me the weight of hard work and the iron strength required to survive in an unforgiving world.
Yet, while the world saw me as the studious, consistent topper of my class, there was always a quieter, deeper fire burning within me. My mind was rarely on the equations or the textbooks, it was perpetually lost in the architecture of stories. While I mastered the lessons of the classroom, my soul was busy crafting narratives, weaving dreams, and exploring the complexities of human emotion.
The most vivid memory of my childhood isn’t a classroom or a textbook; it’s the final entertainment period of every school day. My friends would gather around, and the floor would become my stage. I didn’t need scripts or preparation. I simply stood before them and spun stories out of thin air, watching their eyes light up as I pulled them into worlds I had created just moments before.
It was in those small, fleeting moments that I discovered who I truly was. Beyond the pressure to be the top student, I found my pulse in the art of performance the stories, the dance, and the rush of creative expression. That classroom floor was where I first learned that I could move people, and that realization was the spark that never left me. It wasn't just play; it was the birth of a lifelong devotion to the power of storytelling.
My academic journey in Tumkur was a testament to the discipline I inherited from my parents, consistently topping every class until I secured 95% in my 12thstandard exams. This achievement was my ticket to the Vellore Institute of Technology, Vellore campus one of India’s most prestigious institutions. When I stepped onto that campus to pursue Mechanical Engineering with a specialization in Energy Engineering, I wasn't just chasing a degree I was stepping into a crucible meant to test my limits and forge my potential.
VIT was not just a college, it was a sanctuary of transformation. Stepping into its halls, I felt the gravity of a thousand dreams colliding, an intellectual crucible that demanded everything I had to give. It was a place that stripped away the ordinary to reveal the architect, providing the rigorous fire I needed to refine my mind and prepare for the challenges of the world beyond.
At 19 years old, I boarded a plane for the first time a boy from Tumkur stepping into the vast, unknown expanse of the world. Through AIESEC VIT, I traveled alone from Singapore to Ho Chi Minh City,Vietnam, landing in a landscape that smelled of rain and new beginnings. For forty days, I immersed myself in a health project in Ho Chi Minh, a time that redefined my existence. I found more than just a mission, I found friends for life and a mosaic of cultures that expanded my soul.
This is me standing in the heart of the Mekong Delta, holding a python in my hands
At VIT, I found that my education extended far beyond the classroom. As the Event Head of the Kannada Literary Association, I finally stepped into my own light writing scripts, directing dramas, and pouring my soul into every act. The validation I received from those around me, combined with the thrill of sending my work to film festivals, ignited a conviction that had been burning since childhood: I was born to be a storyteller. Looking back at the photograph of myself in a tiger dance costume during Riviera, I see the turning point where performance became purpose. That creative fire, once sparked in the silence of a classroom and fanned by the arts at VIT, eventually paved the path for me to become the author of ten novels today. This is the story of how I stopped searching for my identity and finally chose to create it.
Long before trekking became a trend or a captured moment for social media, I was already lost in the wild. For me, it wasn’t about the destination or the validation of the climb, it was about the profound, aching silence of the mountains. it was about the profound, aching silence of the mountains.
After graduation in 2019, I plunged into the dual life of a freelance design engineer and a UPSC aspirant a period of intense struggle and profound transformation. While the dream of joining the civil services didn't result in an appointment, that journey gave me something far more valuable: a lens through which to see the depth of human ambition and failure. It was in the quiet hours of those years, surrounded by books and the weight of uncertainty, that the seeds of my ten novels were truly sown. When that door closed, I pivoted to the volatile world of stock market swing trading. I traded the security of a traditional career for the unpredictable rhythm of the markets, and in doing so, I found a different kind of success one that afforded me the freedom to craft my stories on my own terms, proving that sometimes, the paths we fail at are the very ones that lead us to our true calling.
The most painful chapter of my life began when the doctors delivered a devastating verdict, my keratoconus had reached its irreparable stage. Years earlier, I had endured a surgery that felt like a descent into hell, but the reality that followed was a different kind of trial. To see, I was forced to wear specialized CRL costly lenses that turned every waking moment into a battle against searing, unbearable agony. I could rarely endure them for 6 hours at a time.
Yet, it was through this haze of chronic pain and blurred vision that I built my legacy. With eyes that burned and a body that begged for rest, I sat in the darkness and wrote, edited, and poured my soul into ten novels. If you look at these lenses, do not be frightened by their size or the harsh reality they represent. See them instead as the iron weights I carried while climbing a mountain no one else could see. They are not just tools for sight, they are the artifacts of my defiance proof that even when the world goes blurry and the pain threatens to consume you, you can still find the strength to create something that shines.
In 2026, we built our second own home in a prime location in Tumkur and named it Parishrama,a name that carries the weight and honor of every drop of sweat we ever shed. Entering those doors under the quiet blessing of the neighboring Chamundeshwari temple felt like the closing of a circle. Within those walls, the chaos of the last four years finally found its resolution, I completed and published the novels I had been laboring over through every storm, finally realizing the dream of becoming the author of ten books. Parishrama is not just a house, it is the physical manifestation of my resilience, a sanctuary built on the bedrock of hard work where my stories finally found their home.
