It starts with a knack.
My grandmother had it. I could see it in her sarees, or the flowers in her hair, or in her home which always smelled of incense and mogras. That curious attention to detail. That awareness of aesthetic. She moulded that into my mother. Who put it to work in the curtains, lamps and colours of our house in Shimla, and the backdrop to some of my happiest memories. And my mother passed on the heirloom to my sisters and I.
Since then that little knack has found its way into the living room of a man in the midst of a crisis, on the armour of a soldier on the battlefield, and strangely enough, even in the fabric of the seats of a hijacked plane. Detail is everywhere. And it is everything.
For me, a perfect set is one that tells its own story. In the one second that a girl walks into a room, I want the viewer to know as much as they can about her life through her surroundings. My favourite part of my job is collaborating with the director and parsing their vision through props and paraphernalia. How they see this world, and what would they like for it to say? What feeling do they want to evoke? What journey is this character about to go on, and how can the world of this character help or hinder it?