Aarti Upadhyay is a seasoned marketing and communications professional with over 14 years of experience spanning advertising, IT, and government consulting. A postgraduate from St. Xavier’s College, Ahmedabad, she also holds a PG Certification in Advertising & PR (Online) from MICA. Throughout her career, Aarti has skillfully blended strategy with storytelling, helping brands find their authentic voice.
Her debut book, Remnants: A Collection of Grief and Hope, is a heartfelt exploration of love, loss, and resilience — themes that reflect her deep engagement with human emotion and inner worlds. Aarti is an avid reader who lives and thrives on stories, both real and imagined. As someone who has spent her professional life shaping narratives, this collection marks a personal milestone in expressing her own.
Fascinated by human psychology, she often spends her free time studying emotions and observing the quiet, complex ways people connect and cope. She also firmly believes that dogs were created to show humans the purest form of love — selfless, warm, and unwavering. When she’s not lost in thought or deep in observation, she finds solace in the pages of a good book, the world of cinema, or the endless possibilities of stories she weaves on her own — blending imagination with insight to explore the beautiful messiness of life.
The Interview
The Literature Times: Your poetry in Remnants is incredibly raw and personal. What inspired you to turn your own journey of grief and healing into a published collection?
Aarti Upadhyay: When I began writing these poems, it was a deeply personal act—a way to process the whirlwind of emotions that came with grief, loss, and healing. The words became my outlet, a space where I could confront feelings I couldn’t articulate otherwise. Over time, my friends read my work and encouraged me to share it, believing others navigating similar struggles might find solace in these pages.
What started as a private catharsis evolved into a mission. I realized that grief, though universal, often feels isolating. By publishing Remnants, I wanted to create a companion for those who feel alone in their pain, to remind them that healing isn’t linear and that their emotions are valid. The book is my offering to anyone who has ever loved, lost, or wondered how to piece themselves back together.
The Literature Times: Many of your poems reflect the emotional aftermath of toxic relationships. Was writing this book a form of therapy for you?
Aarti Upadhyay: Absolutely. Writing Remnants was not just creative expression—it was survival. My psychiatrist, Dr. Sarthak Dave, encouraged me to sit with my emotions instead of running from them, and poetry became the vessel for that confrontation. Toxic relationships leave scars that aren’t always visible; they distort your sense of self, making you question your worth. Putting those tangled feelings into words—rage, betrayal, longing—was like untangling knots I didn’t even know were there.
Some poems were excruciating to write, but each one chipped away at the weight I carried. There’s a peculiar power in naming your pain: it loses its grip when you hold it up to the light. And that’s what I hope readers take from this—that healing begins when you stop silencing your hurt and start giving it a voice.
The Literature Times: You touch upon themes of love, loss, identity, and rediscovery. Was there a particular phase in your life that shaped these themes the most?
Aarti Upadhyay: Grief isn’t linear—it’s messy, cyclical, and deeply personal. The poems in Remnants mirror that chaos; they don’t follow a structured timeline because healing didn’t, either. The most defining phase was the aftermath of losing relationships—not just to death or distance, but to the slow erosion of self that happens in toxicity.
There were days grief felt like a suffocating fog, others where it sharpened into clarity. Writing became my compass. Some poems are screams, others whispers—all of them map how love and loss reshaped me. Rediscovery didn’t happen in one epiphany, but in fragments: a moment of anger here, a flicker of hope there. Remnants is those fragments stitched together.
The Literature Times: “Echoes of Hope” and “Grief’s Grip” are powerful pieces. Are any of the poems in Remnants based on real conversations or events?
Aarti Upadhyay: Yes, many poems are rooted in real moments—raw, unfiltered fragments of my life. “Grief’s Grip” is a direct echo of a session with my psychiatrist. He asked me, “How did you feel when the breakup call happened?” and the poem spilled from that question. It captures the visceral helplessness of that night—how I crumbled, how I reached for safe spaces and people, how grief doesn’t follow logic but carves its own path through the body.
Other pieces, like “Chai and Samosa – A Promise,” are tributes to real relationships and losses. The book is a mosaic of these truths: some are whispered confessions, others are loud reckonings. I wanted to honor the weight of real conversations—the ones that break us, the ones that piece us back together.
The Literature Times: In the poem “Encountering Empathy,” you highlight the role of therapy. How important do you think mental health support is in the healing journey, especially for women?
Aarti Upadhyay: Mental health support isn’t just important—it’s necessary, especially for women who are expected to juggle careers, relationships, and societal pressures without stumbling. I sought therapy when I realized I could no longer outrun my grief or compartmentalize it. Society often tells women to “keep going,” as if slowing down is a luxury we can’t afford. But denial only deepens the wound.
Therapy gave me what hustle culture couldn’t: permission to pause. It taught me that acknowledging pain isn’t defeat—it’s the first step toward reclaiming agency. For women, who are so often conditioned to prioritize caregiving over self-care, professional help can be revolutionary. It’s not weakness; it’s the ultimate act of strength to say, “I deserve to heal.”
My journey is proof: with the right guidance, you can grieve and grow, hurt and hope. I’d urge every woman to silence the stigma and prioritize their mental health—because you can’t pour from an empty cup.
The Literature Times: What challenges did you face while writing such emotionally intense material, and how did you overcome them?
Aarti Upadhyay: The writing itself wasn’t the hard part—it was the release. Putting these emotions on paper felt like exhaling after years of holding my breath. The real struggle came when I had to decide whether to share them with the world. These poems weren’t just words; they were my unguarded heartbeats, my most vulnerable truths laid bare.
But that’s also how I knew they needed to be published. If they helped me process grief, perhaps they could sit with others in their darkest moments too. The act of writing was my salvation; the act of publishing became my rebellion—against silence, against shame, against the idea that pain should be hidden.
In the end, I realized: some stories are meant to be released, not just for the writer’s healing, but as a lifeline for someone else.
The Literature Times: As a writer, how do you strike a balance between vulnerability and self-protection when sharing personal stories with the world?
Aarti Upadhyay: I believe one of the most sacred responsibilities of a writer is to tell the truth—raw and unapologetic. You can’t call yourself a writer if you’re afraid to bare your soul. Paradoxically, that very act of vulnerability becomes its own armor. When I write, I don’t focus on crafting layers of protection; I focus on excavating my truth with simple, unflinching honesty. That honesty, in turn, liberates me.
I’ve learned that when you fully surrender to the creative process—when you place yourself entirely at the mercy of the art you’re creating—it protects you in ways you can’t anticipate. The judgments of others lose their power because the work itself becomes your shield. My poems in Remnants aren’t just my stories; they’re my emancipation. By releasing them, I’m not just sharing my pain—I’m reclaiming my freedom.
The Literature Times: Who are some poets or writers who have inspired your style or your journey as a poet?
Aarti Upadhyay: I’m deeply drawn to writers who wield truth like a blade—sharp, unflinching, and luminous. Ocean Vuong’s work resonates with me for this very reason; his ability to marry raw honesty with lyrical grace is breathtaking.
My roots, though, stretch further back. Shakespeare’s mastery of human emotion feels timeless, and the Romantic poets—with their reverence for nature and the sublime—taught me how to find the extraordinary in the ordinary. Mary Oliver’s quiet wisdom, Sylvia Plath’s searing intensity, Edgar Allan Poe’s haunting beauty, and Rilke’s spiritual depth all live in my bones as a writer. They remind me that poetry isn’t just about words—it’s about alchemy: turning pain into power, silence into song.
The Literature Times: What do you hope readers will take away from Remnants—especially those currently navigating grief or emotional recovery?
Aarti Upadhyay: I hope Remnants becomes the companion I needed in my darkest moments—a quiet witness that says, “I see you, and you’re not alone.” Grief can feel like wandering through a labyrinth with no exit, but these poems are threads of light along the walls.
They don’t promise easy answers, but they do offer proof: that survival is possible, that healing isn’t linear, and that even the most shattered pieces can be rearranged into something new.
For anyone walking this path, I want my words to be both a mirror and a hand to hold—a reminder that the tunnel does end, even when every step feels like darkness. And when they revisit these pages, may they find not just solidarity, but their own resilience staring back at them.
The Literature Times: What’s next for Aarti Upadhyay? Are you working on a new collection or exploring other genres of writing?
Aarti Upadhyay: Right now, I’m immersing myself in the study of emotions—delving deeper into the psychology and philosophy of how we process love, loss, and everything in between. It’s a quiet season of gathering inspiration, like stocking up on firewood before the next creative blaze.
As for what’s to come: perhaps a new poetry collection that builds on Remnants’ raw honesty, or maybe a leap into fiction where I can explore these universal truths through characters and stories. The seeds are there—I’m just letting them tell me what they want to grow into.
To know more about Aarti, visit: https://aartiupadhyay.in/
