I grew up in Punjab, North India, in a community where the land was everything. Though my family came from generations of farmers, my parents chose a different path—they were educators. Our home was filled with books instead of crops, ideas instead of harvests. But just beyond our door, the neighbourhood belonged to carpenters. Their homes smelled of fresh-cut wood. The sound of hand planers echoed through the streets. At night, scrap wood crackled in their stoves. Those sensory memories never left me—they became the foundation of everything I'd later build.

I became an engineer. Curious by nature. Hands-on by instinct. Always searching for creative solutions. My engineering background gave me a fascination with how different materials interact—wood, rock, stone, metal, glass. The way they complement each other. The way they transform when combined. That fascination has become the heart of my work. Without planning it, I started making things—wooden things at first. A treehouse for the kids. A playroom. A bunk bed. Small pieces of handcrafted decor. What began as a hobby quietly became something more.
A few years ago, I met a Japanese wood artist at a trade show. He became a mentor. He introduced me to the masters—George Nakashima, Sam Maloof—and the philosophy behind their work. I was hooked. Over the next two years, I immersed myself in workshops: Japanese joinery, live-edge art, carving, furniture design, architectural woodwork. I wasn't just learning techniques. I was learning a language. But my work has evolved beyond wood alone. Now, I create walls with melted metal and natural stone—watching those elements fuse together mesmerizes me. My furniture pieces are combinations of all these materials: wood grain meeting metal inlays, stone accents grounding live-edge tables, glass revealing the layers beneath. Each piece is a study in contrast and harmony.
Today, I live in Malton with my wife and our two boys—one is seven, the other just five months old. Our home is a cozy 1960s bungalow. It was the first house we looked at, and we knew immediately it was ours. Over 13 years, we've filled it with warmth, creativity, and handcrafted work. Every wall tells a story. One of my first large pieces was a maple dining table. Friends saw it. They wanted their own. Commissions started coming in. I invested in tools, built a home workshop, and launched social media. In less than a year, I'd built a loyal, local client base—people who bring me their ideas, their memories, and trust me to turn them into heirloom-quality furniture and installations. Sometimes, it's more than a table or a chair. Sometimes, it's a piece of a fallen family tree—transformed into a living tribute. Sometimes, it's a feature wall where wood, stone, and metal converge into something sculptural.
Around our small home, we've planted trees. They've become part of our family. They offer shade, protection, even conversation. My work is about honoring that kinship—giving natural materials a second life, carrying their legacy into people's homes and hearts.