This practice was not built from a market gap. It was built from a hospital corridor in 2011.
My daughter was six months old at her Annaprashana, the Hindu rite in which a child is fed solid food for the first time. We fed her kheer, rice pudding made with cow’s milk, as the ritual calls for. Within minutes she was covered in hives and we were driving to the hospital.
The diagnosis was life-threatening food allergies. Wheat, nuts, sesame, milk and eggs.
I became obsessive about what we brought into the house, as you do when food becomes a matter of life and death. I read immunology papers I barely understood, then read them again until I did.
The reading kept returning to the hygiene hypothesis, the idea that a child’s immune system is shaped by what it meets in its first years. It is still debated, but it was the first time I saw the home itself as part of the story.
That vigilance widened. I began looking not only at what we ate but at the environments we live in, the air we breathe, the water we drink, the materials we are surrounded by, the way our homes are lit and ventilated. Protecting one child became a way of assessing how a whole family lives.
For over a decade I worked at some of the world’s most respected companies, launching brands, managing product portfolios and holding P&L responsibility across India, Sri Lanka and the Maldives, work that demanded precision, discretion and an exceptional attention to detail.
I bring the same discernment to every home I am invited into.