BTN | Digital Stories

On my way home from work that week, I decided to stop by to pay my respects to this awful thing that was happening. I was able to take a few of the rocks home as well. Three days later, we were also dismantled. 

The Rise and Fall of BLM Plaza — told through the POV of news reports (all audio courtesy). 

My dad began his career broadcasting truth into India from BBC studios—what people weren’t hearing at home when Indira Gandhi declared Emergency in 1975. It’s what he stood for, what I’ve carried forward, and what VOA is at its core.

Now, as he grows older and more fragile, I hope VOA’s heartbeat remembers us as passing ships—part of its story, not its center—in a journey that began before us, and I hope, beats long after.

I was officially let go—again.
Even if they wanted to “clean house,” it didn’t have to be like this.
This wasn’t reform. It was reckless.
And when the argument is that simple… you have to wonder:
What’s this really about?

At least now, I get to speak my truth—
something taken from me through silence and threat.
And that? That feels good.

This wasn’t what I expected to be doing at 5:37 AM, two days after my last day on USAGM’s payroll.

But I’m oddly proud to be part of the DOGE casualty list—for standing by journalism rooted in free, unbiased information.

VOA will always hold a place in my soul. I’ll always get to say my journey to America—and my career—was in service of the quiet force behind helping people think freely.

I have never felt more passionate about the role of a free press. The Save VOA benefit concert raised money for VOA’s most vulnerable—journalists who spoke truth, and now face the possibility of being forced back to oppressive regimes.

It was an honor to help in my small way by putting together this highlight reel for them. That night was about generosity, solidarity, and connections—the fuel that keeps us all going.