I wasn’t supposed to be a skateboarder. At least, that’s what life seemed to suggest. I grew up in a place where skateboards weren’t exactly a thing, and the only introduction I had to them was through a terrible 90s movie called The Skateboard Kid. link to the movie
But somehow, that was enough.
That movie planted a seed. It didn’t matter that the special effects were trash or that the plot made no sense—what mattered was the feeling. The idea of a skateboard was magical, like a key to freedom. And that was all it took.
The Dream That Wasn’t Real
I remember that I had a dream as a kid that my uncle who lived in America brought me a skateboard. I could see it, feel it, almost touch it. And then I’d wake up—excited—only to find nothing behind my bed. Just a dream.
But that dream refused to go away.
2012: The First Board
Fast forward to college. I was studying Architecture at MANIT Bhopal, lost in a world of drafting, deadlines, and design. One day, I walked into New Market, and there it was—a skateboard. Not a pro setup, not anything fancy, but it had wheels, and it rolled. It was a Jaspo board that had an awful NO FEAR graphic on it. That was enough.
I took it back to my hostel and started cruising up and down the corridors, weaving through students and dodging the occasional “Oi! Yeh kya kar raha hai?” from irritated seniors and batchmates.
That board wasn’t just a piece of wood and plastic; it was freedom, a small rebellion against the monotony of student life.
2016: The Board That Found Me
A few years later, I moved to Delhi to study Industrial Design at SPA, where I met Alex Jayko from Oslo, Norway. Alex wasn’t really a skater—he was more into snowboarding and skiing—but he had a real skateboard with him it was Mike Mo deck with Royal trucks. It was a board that had already travelled. A friend had passed it down to him when Alex left for India, and now, in a way, that board had found its way to me.
We became great friends. I’d borrow it whenever I could, pushing through the SPA hostel corridors and courtyard, learning what a real setup felt like. It had pop, control, and that unmistakable energy—the feeling of something that wasn’t just a toy but a tool for creativity.
And then, when Alex was leaving, he did something that still sticks with me—he gave me his board.
It wasn’t just a gift; it was a passing of the torch. A skateboard carries stories, and that one was now mine to continue.
Freemotion Skatepark and the Real Beginning
With that board under my feet, I started training at Freemotion Skatepark in Delhi with Steve Whitman. That’s where I learned how to actually skate, fall, commit, and get back up. The dream that had started with a terrible movie and an imaginary skateboard had finally become real.
And I never stopped.
WallRide Skatepark: The Post-COVID Level-Up
After COVID, something shifted. Skating had already become a part of who I was, but I found myself pushing harder, progressing faster, and unlocking tricks I hadn’t thought possible.
That’s when I started training at WallRide Skatepark—a BMX pump track and skatepark, one of the first skatepark built by holystoked/100 Ramps . It wasn’t just about technical tricks anymore; it was about movement, adapting, and finding new lines. I have a lot of great memories there.
Skating WallRide felt like a reset—a reminder of why I started in the first place. It wasn’t about landing the cleanest trick or filming the best clip; it was about the feeling of pushing limits, about letting muscle memory take over, about getting lost in the rhythm of wheels on concrete.
And somehow, that brought me back to why I picked up a board all those years ago.
Alex’s Visit: A Full Circle Moment
Years passed. I kept skating, kept pushing, kept building towards something bigger. Then, nearly a decade later, Alex came back to visit me—right before the skatepark was built.
It was a surreal moment. The friend who had unknowingly changed the course of my life was now standing at the edge of something I had created—a space that wouldn’t have existed without that one board, that one decision, that one act of generosity.
We still talk today, and I know that board’s journey will always be a part of my own.
Skating, Life, and Everything In Between
Looking back, skateboarding didn’t just give me a hobby—it shaped how I think, how I push through obstacles, how I approach life.
It taught me that sometimes you have to create your own opportunities. No one handed me a skateboard—I had to chase it down.
It showed me that progress isn’t instant. You fall, you get up, and you try again.
It proved that the best things in life happen when you least expect them—like a Norwegian friend handing you a bit of wood and metal that changes your life.
Now, with Primo Skate Co., my own skatepark, and a growing community, I get to pass that same spark to others. Maybe some kid out there will see a skateboard for the first time, and that tiny moment will plant a seed—just like it did for me.
And who knows? Maybe one day they’ll wake up, look behind their bed, and find the real thing waiting for them.