01 · before the whale
The Wonder Whale wasn't my first chapter. I studied engineering, earned my MBA from IIM Ahmedabad, worked across FMCG and EdTech, and later built a content agency with Aparna. At the time, they felt like separate chapters. Looking back, each one quietly taught me something about people—how they learn, what they remember, what they carry with them, and what helps ideas become part of everyday life.
Like many of us, I had come to believe that growth meant moving faster, doing more and making every minute count. I chased progress because that was what success looked like. There was always another milestone to reach, another goal to pursue, another version of better. I didn't question that rhythm because it was simply the world I had learnt to live in.
02 · motherhood changed the lens
Then I became a mother.
Soon after Arjun was born, severe sciatica left me unable to walk properly for almost three months. Recovery was slow, and slowness is a strange teacher. Every ordinary task took time. Life moved at a pace I hadn't chosen, but it gave me something I didn't know I needed. For the first time in years, I began to notice the moments that are so easy to rush past.
The conversations before bedtime. The questions that appeared out of nowhere. The words children borrow from us before they find their own. The small rituals that, repeated often enough, quietly shape who they become.
Around the same time, the world was slowly finding its rhythm again after COVID. Aparna and I kept returning to one observation. Children were moving from one activity to the next, but very little of it seemed to stay with them.
03 · the problem was never the children
Ask a child what happened today and watch the pause.
Not because nothing happened.
Because so little was kept.
We realised the problem was never that children weren't learning enough. They were learning, experiencing and feeling so much every single day. What was missing was a place to return to those moments. To notice them. To hold on to them. To make them their own.
We looked for tools that could help a child pause and keep their own day. We ordered several. Some were beautiful. Some were practical. None felt quite right. So we made one for our own children.
A few parents saw it and asked for copies. We made a few more.
04 · Literature Festival
Then Bookaroo came to our city.
One week before the event, we made a name. We printed what we had. No elaborate stall. No banner budget. Just one table, two chairs, one product, and a handful of bookmarks we were giving away under a tree.
We were surrounded by publishers we had admired for years.
Parents stopped. The children stayed.
Conversations kept happening.
We drove home knowing this was bigger than a side project.
That little table is still the truest picture of who we are.
05 · what we are up to
The Wonder Whale makes small objects for slow practices.
Journals. Affirmation Cards. Bunting. Bookmarks.
Objects that create a small pause in the middle of everyday life. A page that helps a child return to their own day.
A travel journal that collects stories instead of souvenirs. A few minutes with an affirmation card before school or before bed. A wall filled with messages from people who love you.
We began thinking we were building tools for routines.
Over time, we realised we were building something quieter.
Objects that help people notice, remember and grow.
06 · what we refuse
No streaks.
No scores.
No suggestion that you, or your child, are a project to be optimised.
We don't believe growth happens because we measure it every day.
We believe it happens quietly, through small moments repeated over time.
07 · why it stays personal
The Wonder Whale has never followed a product roadmap.
It has followed our lives.
Every product began in our own home, as something we wished existed. We lived with it first. Changed it. Shared it with friends. Listened. Changed it again. Only then did it become part of The Wonder Whale.
I don't know what we'll make ten years from now. But I hope it will still begin the same way—with a real question, lived long enough to deserve an answer.
We're bootstrapped and unhurried.
And we intend to remain both.
We make the tools.
You carry the practice.
- from our table to yours