Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Debasmita Dasgupta. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Debasmita, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on?
The graphic novels that I write and draw are all very close to my heart. Certainly it is a tough call when I have to pick one as the most favourite or meaningful. However, to answer this question I would like to talk about my first Young Adult graphic novel called “Terminal 3”, which took me nearly 5 years from its inception to publishing. The story is about a 17-year old, Khwab Nazir. The word “Khwab” in Urdu means “Dream”. She is a muslim girl living in the valley of Kashmir in India. Kashmir is a place that is often referred to as “the heaven on earth” because of its scenic beauty. However, Kashmir is also one of India’s most troubled states. So the story of Khwab travels between peace and penance as she aspires to become an international Jiu-Jitsu champion and win a gold for her country, India.
Debasmita, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
When I sit down to write and draw my graphic novels, I feel like I’m unspooling a thread from a tapestry that’s already woven, one I can only glimpse in fragments. My stories begin in the real world, in truths uncovered through research—facts and images that linger like half-forgotten dreams. Fiction, to me, is a mirror turned just slightly askew, reflecting what’s true but in shapes that are strange and unexpected. I don’t tell readers what to think or hand them answers tied up with a bow. Instead, I craft questions—questions that twist and turn, inviting readers to step into the shadows and light of the story and find meaning for themselves. If my art leaves you wondering, unsettled, or curious about the world you thought you knew, then perhaps it’s done what it was meant to do: show that change begins not with answers, but with the courage to ask questions.
As a graphic novelist, I’ve also come to understand that my responsibility isn’t just to tell my own stories—it’s to help others tell theirs. That’s why I make it a point to hold workshops, to teach and guide emerging storytellers, especially those whose voices have been overlooked for far too long. There’s wonder in watching someone realize that their story matters, that they can shape worlds with their words and images. I teach because I believe in the power of diverse voices, in the magic that happens when the stories we tell reflect the richness of our cultures and identities. It’s not just about passing on skills; it’s about building bridges, about reminding people that their truths are needed, and that the world will always be brighter for hearing them.
We’d love to hear the story of how you built up your social media audience?
As a creative, I’ve come to see social media as a curious kind of mirror—one that reflects far too much noise and far too little substance. It’s easy to be seduced by numbers: the likes, the followers, the endless chase for more. But I’ve found that it’s not the numbers that matter; it’s the connections. A thousand fleeting glances mean nothing compared to a handful of people who truly see your work, who pause long enough to let it speak to them. Social media can be a tool for sharing stories, for reaching others in unexpected ways, but only if we resist the urge to turn it into a game of empty applause. Art, after all, is meant to linger, to whisper to the soul—and that kind of magic is never about quantity. It’s about the quiet, meaningful moments that matter.
Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?
As a graphic novelist, I’ve learned that what most people see is the end of the journey: the book in their hands, the story neatly told, the art polished and complete. What they don’t see is the labyrinth it took to get there—the false starts, the abandoned drafts, the ideas that stumbled and fell apart. They don’t see the hours spent wrestling with blank pages, the failures that whispered, “You can’t do this” or the resilience it took to whisper back, “Watch me”. Success, from the outside, looks effortless, like magic. But real magic is far messier. It’s built from failures and persistence, from heartbreak and hope. Every milestone I reach feels hard-won, every story a battle I’ve fought and barely won. The finished work is only the visible part of the spell; the rest, the blood and sweat and quiet determination, remains hidden beneath the surface.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://linktr.ee/debasmitadasgupta
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/debasmitadasgupta/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/artistdebasmitadasgupta/
- Linkedin: https://uk.linkedin.com/in/debasmita-dasgupta-b6228049
- Twitter: @debasmita_d
Image Credits
No applicable