%20(1).webp)
About Me
Hey There,
I’ve always been drawn to life beyond its surface - its intelligence, rhythm, and the subtle forces that shape our inner and outer worlds. My work explores how healing and alignment unfold across the physical, emotional, energetic, and spiritual layers of the human system.
My path spans multiple disciplines. I am an internationally trained dentist, a mixed media artist, a batik painter, a certified Pranic Healer and Art Therapist. Although these roles may seem distinct, they all refine the same inquiry: how balance is restored when the body, mind, and energy are approached with precision, patience, and respect.
My inward journey deepened through periods of recalibration, including a time when my body expressed imbalance through alopecia. Through sustained self-work and disciplined practice, I experienced a gradual restoration of my health, shaping my understanding of the body as an intelligent, responsive system.
Pranic Healing entered my life through formal study and self-practice, teaching me that sensitivity without grounding overwhelms rather than heals. My spiritual exploration ultimately guided me back to the Vedic tradition, not as belief, but as lived wisdom.
Today, alongside my creative and healing work, I am writing a spiritual book grounded in Vedānta and the Upanishads.
You are welcome here.
Steady and unrushed
Where every story is allowed to unfold with dignity.
With Warmth,
Damini
About My Work
This started as painting. Then it started answering back.
My spiritual journey shows up through painting.
Long before I had the words to describe it, I was working with batik. During high school, I painted sacred images in wax and dye - patiently, layer by layer. Batik is intricate, slow, and unforgiving; one misplaced line can ruin the entire piece.
At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but looking back, it feels obvious. I was already drawn to devotion, discipline, and precision. I just didn’t know how to articulate that yet.
Batik teaches you restraint. You can’t rush it. You can’t correct it easily. You have to trust the process and your hands. In many ways, it trained my nervous system before I ever knew that’s what was happening.
Today, the process looks different, but the orientation is the same. Before any color touches the canvas, I slow down, I breathe, and I listen. I let my body settle before my mind decides it has opinions (it always does). Only then does the painting begin. Nothing dramatic, honestly and nothing forced.
Just a quiet “okay, let’s do this.”
I experience color as sensation rather than symbol. Some days it’s calm, some days it’s moody and some days it’s very clearly processing something. Each shade reflects subtle nervous-system and energetic states that long predate language.
The canvas becomes a kind, contained space for all of that, no overwhelm and no fixing.
Just room to be held.
Painting, I’ve realized, was never just a medium for me. It was the long way back home to myself - patient, layered, and quietly faithful.
People often tell me my pieces feel grounding, calming, or quietly familiar. I like to think that’s your body recognizing something true before your mind gets busy analyzing it.
If a piece draws you in, trust that pull. It isn’t asking you to become anything. It’s simply offering a place to pause, soften, and reconnect.
And sometimes, between deadlines, noise, notifications, and being very impressive adults
That pause is everything.
