I didn’t begin with filmmaking in mind. It started much earlier, with a habit of noticing things — wildlife, streets, everyday moments that most people pass without thinking twice. During the final phase of my studies in Electronics, I found myself drawn more towards observing than building, and photography slowly became a way to make sense of that curiosity.

After graduating in 2014, I spent a lot of time outside with a friend, walking through Mandvi and filming whatever caught our attention — local wildlife, old structures, fragments of a place we thought we already understood. Over time, that perspective began to shift. Mandvi stopped feeling like just a hometown and started revealing itself as a story.

A town with more than 400 years of history — wooden shipyards still active, intertidal marine life, handicrafts, food, and people — all existing quietly without being documented in a meaningful way. We didn’t approach it as a formal project. We simply started filming, trying to capture what was already there. That process eventually became The Colors of Mandvi.

We borrowed a camera, funded it ourselves initially, and spent around four to five months shooting — meeting people, exploring locations, and figuring things out as we went. Somewhere along the way, it evolved into something more structured. We found a producer, and for the first time, I was paid for filmmaking. But more than that, the experience shaped how I understood storytelling — not as something you impose, but something you discover by staying with it long enough.

After that phase, I continued working on documentaries — some commissioned, some personal — each one taking me into spaces I wouldn’t have entered otherwise.