Iboga Forest

I did not choose Iboga. Iboga chose me.

To the outside world, I was a success story. Born in the sacred lands of India and educated in IT and Global Business Management, I built a career in the fast-paced technology sector across India and Canada eventually calling Toronto home. I had the credentials. I had the career. I had the appearance of a life well-lived.

But beneath the surface of meetings, milestones, and technology, I was slowly dying.

I wasn’t just depressed. I was broken. I was carrying the heavy, invisible weight of childhood trauma, PTSD, betrayal, and toxic relationships that had left me in a state of total immobility. There were days, months, even years when I could not get out of bed. Not a metaphor. Literally could not get out of bed. I was living a life programmed by my family, my community and my environment. A life that wasn’t mine. I saw firsthand how the invisible programming of modern society operates: family expectations layered onto corporate stress, layered onto cultural conditioning, layered onto unprocessed trauma. All of it creates a chaotic internal landscape, a dysregulated nervous system, a fragmented sense of self, and, eventually, a complete collapse. That collapse was mine to live through. And I did. Until I couldn’t anymore.

The gift of Desperation: Rock bottom has a way of stripping everything away. When I finally hit mine truly hit it, in a way I could no longer explain away or survive through sheer willpower I was faced with the most fundamental choice a human being can face. Continue to fade away Or find a way to truly live. The moment of desperation which I now understand as a profound gift became the doorway. I began searching with everything I had. Scientific research, Neuroscience, Psychology, Indigenous healing traditions, Plant medicines. I was not looking for a shortcut. I was looking for the truth.

And then Iboga found me. The first time I sat with Iboga, something happened that I had never experienced in decades of searching. I did not just have an experience. I met myself.
The real version, the one buried under years of trauma, conditioning and survival strategies. The one that had been waiting, patiently, to be seen. Iboga did not give me answers. It gave me something far more valuable: it showed me the questions I had been afraid to ask. And then it sat with me while I found the answers within myself.

The depression did not vanish overnight. But the direction changed. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I knew not hoped, not wished. I knew that healing was possible. Not just possible. Already underway.

Why I hold this space

I did not come to this work through a weekend certification or a spiritual trend. I came through the fire. Through the kind of suffering that leaves marks. And through the other side of that suffering, guided by a medicine that I have the deepest reverence for.

I understand what it feels like to perform success while drowning privately. I understand the particular loneliness of being surrounded by people who see your achievements and cannot see your pain. I understand what it means to be a first-generation immigrant carrying both the weight of expectation and the silent wounds of displacement.

I know what it is to sit across from someone who has tried everything and still feels nothing has reached the root. Because I was that person.

Iboga Forest was born from this understanding. Not as a business. As a calling. A space built for the people who are done performing fine. Who are ready finally, completely ready to go to the root of what is driving their suffering and transform it at the source.

I hold this space with the full weight of my own journey behind me. Every participant who walks through our doors is seen not as a client, but as a fellow human being who deserves the kind of care, safety, and honesty that I once desperately needed myself.

This work is my life. And it is an honor I do not take lightly.

My approach to healing is a unique synthesis of my heritage and my training.

From India
I carry the concept of Dharma—the moral order that keeps the universe from falling into chaos. I believe your soul has a specific duty and path.

From Gabon
I carry the Bwiti wisdom of the “Stern Father”—the direct, undeniable truth that cuts through the noise of the mind.

I am not here to just hold your hand; I am here to help you see. My style is one of quiet strength. I offer eyes that see more than words ever say, and a presence that can hold the weight of your deepest pain. I don’t just see your symptoms; I see the soul beneath them. My mission is simple: I found the way out of the darkness. Now, it is my duty to hold the light for you.