06/18/2026
๐ ๐ ๐ง๐ต๐ถ๐ฟ๐ฑ ๐๐ต๐ถ๐น๐ฑ ๐ง๐๐ฟ๐ป๐ ๐ญ๐ด ๐ง๐ผ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐
June 18, 2008.
Most people probably don't know that it is International Picnic Day. History buffs might remember it as the day Amelia Earhart became the first woman to fly across the Atlantic. Beatles fans know it as Sir Paul McCartney's birthday.
For me, however, June 18 will always be remembered for a much less historic but far more personal reason.
It was the day I gave birth to my third child.
Her name was Learn To Write Now.
And today, she turns 18.
When I started LTWN from the basement of our home, I had no idea what I was doing. I know entrepreneurs are supposed to say they had a vision and a five-year plan. I didn't.
What I had was a nagging feeling that something was missing.
As a parent, educator, and lifelong lover of language, I kept seeing students who were learning grammar rules, reading books, and preparing for tests, yet many struggled when asked to put their own thoughts on paper. Writing had somehow become an afterthought.
That bothered me.
Enough that I walked away from a well-paying corporate career to see if I could do something about it.
Looking back, that may have been either incredibly brave or completely foolish. Perhaps a little bit of both.
In those early years, LTWN was very much a one-woman show. I wrote the curriculum. I taught the classes. I answered parent emails. I updated spreadsheets. I worried about enrollment. I celebrated every new student. I carried bins of supplies. I even remember wondering whether anyone besides me believed writing deserved this much attention.
Thankfully, a lot of people did.
When I think about this 18-year journey, I realize that LTWN was never really built by one person.
It started with my mother.
Every summer vacation, Amma would ask me to write an essay every single day. Any topic. Any length. I happily complied. At the time, I thought it was just one more thing she wanted me to do. Looking back, she was nurturing something she saw in me long before I saw it in myself.
My father was the reader and wordsmith in the family. Books, crossword puzzles, literature, wordplay...he loved them all. Many of my earliest memories involve words being treated not as schoolwork but as something joyful.
Then came the teachers.
I have been blessed with teachers who read what I wrote and took the time to respond thoughtfully. One of them wrote a comment I have never forgotten: "Someday you are going to change the world through your writing."
At the time, I laughed.
Today, I hope I have at least helped a few young people change their own worlds through writing.
And then there is Shaju, my partner in education and in life.
Anyone who knows us knows that LTWN may have started as my dream, but it quickly became our family project. There were plenty of evenings, weekends, vacations, and dinner conversations that somehow circled back to lesson plans, students, curriculum, technology, marketing, or college admissions.
Sometimes I joke that he works harder for LTWN than I do.
The joke is only partially a joke.
My children, Manav and Manya deserve special mention as well. Over the years, they have unknowingly served as test subjects for countless ideas. New lessons. New activities. New volunteer projects. New approaches. If something was being piloted, chances are it first landed on one of my children.
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my family, friends, and the many parents who trusted me with their children long before LTWN had a reputation. You enrolled when there were no awards, no accolades, and no long list of college admissions to point to. You believed in the mission first.
And then came the students.
Thousands of them.
When people ask me what I am most proud of, they sometimes expect me to mention Ivy League admissions, published authors, awards, recognitions, or national expansion.
Those things are wonderful.
But honestly?
What I remember most are the individual moments.
The reluctant writer who suddenly discovered confidence.
The student who proudly published a first article.
The teenager who found their voice through an essay.
The adult who reinvented a career after learning to communicate more effectively.
The parent who wrote to tell us that their child now voluntarily writes for fun.
Those moments never show up on brochures, but they are the reason we do this work.
Of course, there have been milestones along the way.
We grew from a basement workshop into a national online program. We survived and adapted during COVID. We built a team of extraordinary educators who care deeply about students. We helped students gain admission to incredible universities. We watched student work appear in publications and anthologies. We received recognition for our curriculum and methodology. We became a proudly women-led organization.
Each milestone felt significant at the time.
Yet what matters most, eighteen years later, is that the mission remains exactly the same.
Teach students to think. Teach students to communicate. Teach students to write.
People often ask me whether AI has changed the future of writing.
Of course it has.
But I don't think writing was ever about producing words.
Writing is about producing thought.
It is about figuring out what you believe, what you value, and how to communicate that to another human being.
That part has not changed. And I suspect it never will.
So today, on LTWN's 18th birthday, my heart is full.
Full of gratitude for every teacher who encouraged me.
Every family who trusted me. Every colleague who joined me. Every friend who supported me. Every student who walked through our virtual or physical doors.
Thank you for helping raise this third child of mine.
She has grown into something far bigger and more meaningful than I ever imagined on that sunny June day in 2008.
And if the last eighteen years have taught me anything, it is this:
A single idea, nurtured patiently and consistently, can grow into something that changes lives.
Happy 18th Birthday, Learn To Write Now.
The story continues...
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