Karuna Ezara Parikh’s journey is a quiet revolution in the way we read, write, and share. An author, podcaster, and entrepreneur, she has carved a distinct space for herself in the world of contemporary storytelling.

From The Heart Asks Pleasure First to Where Stories Gather, her work spans themes of love, loss, memory, and identity—but at its core lies one unwavering thread: vulnerability. It is this deep, personal honesty that powers her voice and presence—on the page, behind the mic, and in every space she occupies.

In a digital world obsessed with curation and perfection, Karuna stands apart. Her social media, her writing, and her voice offer something rare—raw, unfiltered intimacy. A reminder that there is strength in softness, and power in truth.

In conversation with Karuna, we explore the quiet revolutions sparked by books—and how writing helps her grow, make sense of the world, and sometimes, push back against it.

SC: Over the years, you’ve worn many hats—journalist, presenter, poet, author, entrepreneur, and now podcaster. But the one thread running through it all seems to be books. Where did that love begin?

KARUNA: What a beautiful question. So, behind the question about books, is the question of stories – how we tell them, who gets to tell them, where we embellish, what we keep out, how memory works, and how fantasy does. From a young age I loved reading, but I was always interested in the creation of the worlds I was allowed to enter through that reading. As I grew up, I found that the best way for me to understand something about the world, was to read about it. And the best way to understand something about myself was to write about it. 

SC: How has being a reader shaped how you see the world—and yourself?

KARUNA: I think readers are more empathetic, more open to varied perspectives. We travel the entire world through our passion, exploring histories, cultures, genders, ideas that one person alone cannot come up with on their own. I also find readers are more patient in a way. In a world bombarded by social media, where even articles now come with a “two minute read only” tagline, there’s something about the mind that can sit with a book, seeing it through till the very end. Too many people I know no longer have the ability to do that. It changes your perspective. I’ve seen it in myself – when I’m reading consistently, I am better for it.

SC: What’s a book you find yourself returning to, again and again? What keeps calling you back?

KARUNA: Ah so many! Eduardo Galeano’s Open Veins of Latin America, Svetlana Alexievich’s Voices from Chernobyl, Nadeem Aslam’s work, and this year, Naomi Klein’s Doppelganger. I tend to come back to non-fiction more, because I use these as reference books, but the other thing I come back to is poetry. This year I’m reading a lot of Mosab Abu Toha and Ilya Kaminsky.

SC: Your work often straddles the deeply personal and the public. How do you decide what to share—and what to hold close?

KARUNA: It’s a dance. I never know what I will share until I share it. When I was diagnosed with cancer, it took me four months of silence before I could write about it publicly, and even that felt in some ways too soon. I still struggle to share about it. I am still processing. There’s so much I don’t share simply because, though my life is one lived in the public eye, my loved ones deserve their privacy. I also worry about the repercussions of how much I share politically.

SC: You’ve shared glimpses of your cancer journey on Instagram—thank you for being so open. Has reading offered you any comfort or clarity during this time? Or has it felt distant from what you’ve been going through?

KARUNA: Reading was the only way I knew how to comprehend this time. Finding the gift of survivor stories, the books that talk about food, the ones that break down the science of it, the ones that simply spoke to me about grief, and the betrayal of the body. I plan to create a list of them at some point, that might help other people going through the same thing. But the books have been my constant companions, in a bleak and often lonely time.

SC: How have experiences like grief, love, or travel shaped the themes you return to in your writing?

KARUNA: I think the act of processing them has helped me turn them into strong stories. I never set out to write the stories I have for anyone except myself, but sometimes the writing turns into something that feels like it can be shared. Whether it’s about a trip to Kerala, or losing a grandparent… As long as I live, I think I will process through this art form, and as long as I process, there is a chance I offer it to the world, in hope of comprehension.

SC: Can you describe a moment when vulnerability felt like power?

KARUNA: Sharing that I had cancer. I wept as I did, but later I felt free, unburdened by the immense cloak of secrecy I had been wearing.

SC: Fashion has also been part of your storytelling. Where does it sit in your personal language of self-expression?

KARUNA: Very high! I see what I do with fashion as an extension of my story telling. It’s also a part of my feminism. For a woman to adorn herself, for nothing more than her own joy or happiness, is power. I love the unusual, the quirky, I love handcraft and honouring it. I love weaves and colour – all of this is art, all of it holds stories.

SC: Your work carries a distinctly feminist gaze. How do you see women being represented today—in literature, media, fashion? And what still needs to shift?

KARUNA: I’ve been saddened in recent times by a shift away in active feminism. The story behind that says – we don’t need this, we are free enough, women should return to their “roots”. But that concept, of women being inherently one thing and men being another, is flawed. Women can be absolutely anything they want to, and that privilege should be afforded to men as well. To believe we needn’t at this point in history fight for women to have more, is a dangerous idea. Globally, violence against women is the highest it’s ever been. We must never forget our rights are never guaranteed.

SC: What advice would you offer to someone just beginning their journey with language—either as a writer or a reader?

KARUNA: Enjoy it. Don’t worry about the “must read” lists – find what makes you happy. Don’t worry about whether your writing sounds like someone else’s, just put ink to paper from the heart. You find your voice not by trying to sound like someone else but by knowing, deeply, yourself.