How I Work: What Fully Online Therapy With Me Looks Like

Choosing a therapist involves a strange information asymmetry: you're expected to trust someone with your inner life based on a two-line bio and a smiling photograph. I'd rather you knew what you were walking into. So this is a transparency piece — the mechanics, the method, and the honest edges of my practice, written the way I'd explain them on a call.

The Free 15-Minute Intro Call

Everything starts here, and it's worth demystifying because the unknown-ness of it stops people for months.

You book a slot through the contact page. At the appointed time, we're on a short video or phone call — fifteen minutes, free, no forms beyond the basics, no obligation. What actually happens: you tell me, in whatever rough shape it comes, what's bringing you — "I keep burning out," "we keep having the same fight," "I honestly don't know, something's off." Unpolished is normal and welcome. I'll ask a question or two, tell you honestly whether what you're describing is work I'm suited for, and describe how I'd approach it. I'll tell you my fee and the practical structure. You ask me anything — training, experience, how I work, what happens if it doesn't help. And then you take your time deciding; there's no close, no follow-up pressure, and "let me think about it" is a complete sentence.

Two honest purposes run under those fifteen minutes. You're checking whether you feel met — decades of research say the relationship is among the strongest predictors of whether therapy works (Norcross & Lambert, 2018), and you can sense more in fifteen minutes than you'd expect. And I'm checking whether I'm the right person for what you need — because sometimes I'm not, and the intro call is where I'll say so and point you somewhere better (more on that below).

The Rhythm: Weekly, Fifty Minutes, One Fixed Slot

If we go ahead, we find a weekly slot that's sustainably yours — same day, same time. Sessions run around fifty minutes. This isn't administrative fussiness; the rhythm is part of the method. Depth work runs on consistency: a fixed hour that your week organises itself around becomes, over months, a genuinely held space — and much of what therapy offers comes precisely from that reliability, especially for people whose early experience taught them that care is unpredictable.

In the first session, we begin shaping what TA calls the therapeutic contract — an explicit, revisitable agreement about what we're working on. You don't need to arrive with it figured out; finding the shape of the work is early work.

The Practical Side: Video, Privacy, and Your Corner of the World

Sessions run on Google Meet — you get a link, you click it, that's the technology. A laptop is slightly nicer than a phone; a phone works fine. Cameras on, generally, because so much of the work lives in faces — though if a session needs to be audio-only sometimes, we adapt.

The one thing I genuinely need from you is a private corner for one hour a week. Clients solve this more inventively than any list I could write, but the common solutions: a room with a closed door and headphones (headphones matter more than the door — they halve what's overhearable); a parked car, which sounds odd and works beautifully; an office meeting room after hours; a terrace or quiet outdoor spot; or simply scheduling for the hour the house is reliably empty. If you live with family and privacy is structurally hard — a very Indian problem — say so in the intro call and we'll figure the slot out together. What I'd gently insist on: don't take sessions from a space where you'll self-censor. The work can only go as deep as the room allows.

My practice being fully online is a design choice, not a pandemic leftover. It means the therapy travels with you — new city, travel weeks, a move abroad — and it means where I'm based matters less than whether we fit. I'm in Delhi NCR; my clients are all over India and outside it.

How I Actually Work in Sessions

My core training and primary framework for individual work is Transactional Analysis — I hold an MSc in Counselling Psychology and a Diploma in TA, and I'm preparing for the CTA (Certified Transactional Analyst) examination. TA gives the work its spine: the ego states, the life script, the early decisions that quietly run adult patterns — and a commitment to transparency, meaning I teach you the framework as we go rather than analysing you from behind glass.

Around that spine, I weave in what serves the moment. From Internal Family Systems (IFS), the language of parts — the inner critic, the pleaser, the one who shuts everything down — which many people find kinder and more workable than treating themselves as one monolithic problem. From mindfulness, the practice of noticing what's happening in your body and feelings while it happens — because insight that stays intellectual changes little. For couples, I work integratively through Emotionally Focused Therapy and Narrative Therapy, which are built for the live, two-person emotional field in a way individual frameworks aren't.

What this feels like from your chair: conversation, mostly — but slowed down at the moments that matter, with your patterns gradually becoming visible to you rather than interpreted at you. Some weeks are quiet archaeology; some are practical; occasionally one rearranges something. All three kinds count.

Confidentiality — and Its Honest Limits

What you bring to sessions stays between us. I don't discuss clients identifiably with anyone, and being fully online, there's no waiting room, no reception desk, no chance encounter.

You should also know the standard, ethical limits — I'd rather you hear them upfront than discover them mid-crisis: if I believe there's serious, imminent risk of harm to you or to someone else, keeping you safe outranks keeping silence, and I may need to involve emergency contacts or services — wherever possible, with you, not behind your back. Disclosure can also be legally compelled in rare circumstances, and Indian law mandates reporting in certain cases (such as the sexual abuse of a minor). And like every ethical therapist, I take my work to professional supervision — with all identifying details removed; supervision exists so that you get a therapist who is themselves supported and accountable. If any of this raises questions for your situation — especially if you're not out, or your safety at home is complicated — ask me directly in the intro call. You're entitled to exact answers.

Who I'm *Not* the Right Fit For

An honest practice needs this list, so here is mine. I'm likely the wrong therapist — at least as the primary support — if:

• You're in crisis right now. If you're in danger of harming yourself or someone else, weekly online therapy is not crisis care, and I'm not reachable at 2 am. Please use what is: your local emergency services, a trusted person nearby, or Tele-MANAS (14416) — the Government of India's free, round-the-clock mental health line. Therapy with me can begin, or resume, once there's stable ground; crisis support comes first and I'll say exactly this on any intro call where it applies.
• You need medication management. I'm a psychotherapist, not a psychiatrist — I can't prescribe or adjust medication. I'm glad to work alongside your psychiatrist (that combination is often the strongest option), but if medication is the primary need, a psychiatrist is the right first door.
• You're seeking therapy for a child or teenager. My practice is adults only. Adolescent work is its own specialisation, and it deserves someone trained in it.
• Your situation needs coordinated, in-person, or intensive care — for example an active severe eating disorder, active substance dependence, or a condition requiring close medical monitoring. Weekly online sessions are the wrong level of care there, and pretending otherwise would be a disservice.
• You need formal assessments or reports — diagnostic evaluations, court or visa documentation. That's the domain of clinical psychologists and psychiatrists.

If any of these is you, reach out anyway if you're unsure where to go — pointing you toward the right support is a fifteen-minute call I'm always willing to have.

Fees, Plainly

I don't publish fees on the site — the reasoning is something I've written about honestly — but the intro call is where you'll get the exact number, the cancellation policy, and payment logistics, stated plainly and early. "That's beyond my budget" is an answer I receive respectfully, and if I can point you somewhere good at a lower fee, I will. My fees are set for the Indian market; NRI clients pay the same.

Frequently Asked Questions

What if I don't know what to say on the intro call?

Then say that — genuinely. "Something feels off and I can't name it yet" is one of the most common and most workable openings there is. The intro call has no entry requirements: no prepared story, no diagnosis, no certainty that therapy is even what you need. Fifteen minutes of honest fumbling tells us both more than a rehearsed summary would.

Do you give homework between sessions?

Sometimes, lightly, and always by agreement — a thing to notice, occasionally a thing to try, never worksheets for their own sake. The between-session work that matters most tends to assign itself: once a pattern becomes visible in the room, you start catching it in the wild. That noticing is the real homework, and it doesn't need a PDF.

Can we start with individual work and move to couples later — or the reverse?

The formats stay separate: I won't see one partner individually and the same couple jointly, because couples work depends on the therapist being structurally on both sides. What happens often and works well: individual work surfaces relationship material and the couple then starts fresh couples therapy (with me or elsewhere), or couples work reveals individual threads and I refer the partner to a colleague. We'd talk it through openly whenever it arises.

What happens if therapy with you isn't helping?

We talk about it — ideally before you've decided to leave. Reviewing the work is built into how TA operates: the contract we set gets revisited, and "this doesn't feel like it's moving" is exactly the kind of thing the room is for; sometimes that conversation is the turning point. And if we genuinely aren't the right fit, I'll say so and help you find someone better suited. You never owe a therapist your continued attendance.

If this way of working sounds like what you've been looking for, the next step is small: a free 15-minute intro call. Bring your questions — including the ones this page didn't answer.