Taal, Ghungroo Aur Aashayein: Gautam’s Love Story With His Own Becoming

Gautam’s love is a forbidden one—at least, that’s what the world told him. Guess that

didn't stop him from fastening ghungroos to his ankles and living his dreams.

The first thing you notice about Gautam Shinde is the glow.

Not the bakery lights—though they are warm, honey-toned, and soft to feel homely comfort - but the amber glow of his skin and the mellow aura he carries, the tender eyes behind his black circular glasses, and the way his long hair rests smoothly slicked back beneath a classic zig-zag headband. In the dimly lit space of Cremora: The Cloud Bakery, plants sit neatly on the shelves, casting calm silhouettes around him.

Gautam is calm, intense, funny, reflective, and startlingly authentic. He effortlessly swings between Hindi, Marathi, and English. He laughs often, rolls his eyes lightly when something amuses him, and carries a Gen-Z looseness in the way he sits back, twirls slightly in his chair, and leans forward when something interests him.

There is no pretense—only honesty and authenticity.

He describes himself with a chuckle:

“An artist who is an entrepreneur... basic answer, but that’s what it is.”

His laugh echoes lightly, softening the clinking of dishes he absent-mindedly places in the sink between answers. He is multitasking—talking, while preparing his delicious blueberry cream-cheese buns—and doing it with a natural ease that suggests this is simply how his world moves.

Gautam grew up in Pune, in a home where creativity wasn’t just allowed but encouraged. His parents were “super chill,” as he puts it—supportive not only of his dance but also of his early experiments in baking. While most children his age were being nudged toward predefined futures, he was given space to explore.

Kathak came into his life only 3–4 years ago, yet it transformed everything. Before Kathak, Gautam was hyper, restless, tangled in overthinking. “I still overthink,” he admits, “but it’s reduced a lot.”

His tone softens. His turmoil hasn’t vanished, but rather has been tamed.

He talks about how people reacted when he pursued Kathak:

“Ladka Kathak kar raha hai, so people find it surprising... but that time is gone. Now it’s about standing out, not about labels.”

There is a quiet strength behind these words—not rebellious, just deep certainty in his path. However, he happily claims that his encounters with GenZ's have been the most supportive because of how open-minded the generation is—that they never judge or falter when he tells them about his interests.

Nevertheless, even today, Gautam refuses to give society any space in his mind.

“Me, my practice, and my things. That’s it. People will talk. I neither have the time nor

the energy for it.”

He says this in one fluid breath, unlike how he does often. No hesitation, no need to rehearse; he truly believes it. “When I work, the world becomes insignificant. I disconnect from everything and connect only with my art.” Despite this, he respects opinions—even those he disagrees with.

“Everyone’s background, conditioning, and perception are different. What’s normal in my house may not be normal in someone else’s,” highlighting his consideration for others regardless of differing opinions. This lack of judgment, this ability to remain grounded, reveals the core of who he is.

What started as a pandemic experiment soon became a therapeutic escape.

“Baking is so therapeutic... so patient,” he says, his head tipped back as he twirls lightly in his chair. About baking, he jokes: “Now every street has a baker. No one cares if it’s a boy or girl. People only care about food.”

He opened his very own Cremora: The Cloud Bakery on October 2, 2025.

He handles everything alone—opening the shutters at 8 a.m., arranging supplies, chasing orders, baking non-stop until afternoon; he pouts adorably as he talks about waking early. Though, his daily fatigue doesn’t dim the fondness in his voice.

“Life bhale hi hectic chal rahi ho, par achhi chal rahi hai. It’s quite chill and hectic at the same time,” he smiles;

his smile being self-explanatory enough to tell us what his work means to him.

He sits comfortably, leaning closer to the screen whenever the conversation deepens. He adjusts the camera multiple times, wanting me to see him clearly - out of consideration.

He remembers performing on the TV show ‘Maharashtracha Favourite Kon?’ as a background dancer - something he still continues to cherish. A recent national-level competition brought him second place, credited entirely to his teacher, his didi—Vaishnavi Gopale—whom he mentions with unmistakable and unwavering respect.

He is frequently mistaken for someone far more advanced—often asked if he’s Visharad or even Alankar poorn.

He smirks mischievously when he talks about it.

“Matlab agar doodarshan ka video bhi rahega na, poor HD quality ka, tab bhi main dekh

lunga,” he says this like a matter-of-fact. His devotion towards his craft reflects through these actions, which end up showing in his performances as well.

Compliments don’t excite him or mean anything of value; only his guru’s corrections do—to him, they mean more than praise. A compliment from a guru is always them believing that their pupil is capable and worthy.

“They know I can perform well, so they make these small, last minute corrections; just so I am good to go.”

That tough love is the real compliment to him.

Gautam’s victories are simple, sincere, and rooted deeply in personal growth. He feels proud when people taste his food and call it better than others—because in a world saturated with bakers, recognition is rare.

He feels proud when he stands on stage and someone sees not a boy but a dancer, and when stereotypes crumble around him.

His favourite people in the world are also his simplest answers:

his parents, always first;

his dance teachers, who shaped him;

And most importantly, himself.

The one who stood true to himself, and refused to accept what society defined as

‘normal’.

Written by Aaliya Bijoy Jha, Grade 9, Avasara Leadership Institute, Pune

Aaliya wrote this article as a participant of the Media-Makers Fellowship's Nov'25 cohort.

This profile article was awarded the 'Best Profile' award during the fellowship.