Building Peeku’s World

A conversation with Alak, Aaryama, and Priyanka

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In this conversation with Alak, Aaryama Somayaji and Priyanka Vikram reflect on how PODI life's visual world came together: how PEEKU took shape, how a visual language formed, and how memory, observation, and play continue to guide their work.

This conversation has been lightly edited for clarity and length.

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Alak: This story really goes back to 2019, when I was living in Berlin. I was constantly receiving PODIs from my mom in care packages, and I was using them every day—eggs, vegetables, rice, everything. My roommates and friends were always curious.

I even tried making them once and failed completely. That’s when I realized how much skill goes into them.

But I was already in love with PODIs. I kept thinking—there’s something here. Not just as food, but as a way of cooking, a way of living.

The name “PODI life” came quite instinctively. I knew it might feel unfamiliar to people outside India, but it also felt important to not dilute it. That slight sense of foreignness felt honest to what it was.

During the pandemic, I moved back to India and started experimenting more seriously—small batches in the kitchen, early Instagram posts, a very basic website. One of the earliest decisions we made was that the colors for each PODI would come from the PODI itself. The ingredient would lead—not just in flavor, but visually too.

I started painting ingredients—watercolors, rough sketches—trying to understand what should show up on the packaging.

And that’s when I came across Aaryama’s work.

There was something about it that immediately felt familiar. It reminded me of childhood—impressionable things like Thumbelina and A Bug’s Life—but rooted in an Indian context. That combination felt exactly right.

Aaryama: I had always wanted to work with a food brand. It had been on my mind for years—something I kept returning to. So when Alak reached out, I was already ready.

Initially, it was meant to be a series of postcard illustrations. But very early on, it became clear that this wasn’t going to be a short collaboration. Alak was thinking long-term.

I remember thinking—this is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. I had always wanted to create something as iconic as the Amul girl—a character that becomes inseparable from the brand. That was the seed behind Peeku.

From Postcards to a Whole World

Alak: In the beginning, we were thinking in fragments—postcards, individual illustrations, small storytelling elements.

Each PODI came with its own visual moment—pairings, recipes, small cues on how to use it. It was meant to make something unfamiliar feel more approachable.

There were even early thoughts around having a simple mascot—an elephant, something recognizable. But very quickly, we moved away from that. It started to feel like each PODI needed its own world, not just a symbol.

Over time, though, the postcard system became difficult to sustain. There were too many moving parts—different inserts, labels, logistics. So we had to step back and ask: how do we bring storytelling into the product itself?

That question shifted everything—from add-ons to integration.

Peeku Takes Shape

Aaryama: I wanted to create a character who felt like they belonged to the land—someone who loves their fields, their animals, the quiet rhythms of everyday life.

That’s how Peeku began.

From the start, we felt that gender didn’t need to be fixed. It felt unnecessary, even limiting. So Peeku became intentionally open—gender-fluid, ageless, with parts of their identity left undefined.

Visually, Peeku is a tiny being moving through a much larger world—interacting with ingredients, kitchens, farms. That scale difference is important. It creates both play and perspective.

Alak: The name came naturally—Peeku, a PODI-loving kid. A lot of those early decisions were like that. We weren’t over-analyzing them.

We were responding instinctively. And only now, in conversations like this, are we actually putting language to those instincts—understanding what we were building as we were building it.

Drawing a Language

Aaryama: For me, illustration is like handwriting. It’s instinctive.

There are certain things that just felt right. Peeku doesn’t have a mouth. That came from my style at the time, but it shaped the character deeply. Without a mouth, expression shifts entirely to the eyes.

Peeku becomes someone who observes, who notices, who is constantly taking in the world. The proportions are also slightly off—not fully realistic. That helps them belong to their own universe.

And then there’s the linework. We kept visible outlines very intentionally. A lot of contemporary illustration removes them, but outlines give the work a tactile, grounded quality.

Even the tools became part of the system. I designed custom brushes for outlining and painting, and those brushes are now used across all PODI life illustrations.

There are also small details that become part of the character over time—like the tiny tufts of hair behind Peeku’s ears. They’re subtle, but they make Peeku feel distinctly like Peeku.

Alak: I’ve always felt that what we call “cuteness” is actually a form of curiosity. When something is genuinely curious—when it’s exploring, noticing, engaging—it becomes naturally endearing.

That’s what Peeku embodies. That sense of quiet, attentive curiosity.

Expanding Peeku’s World

Priyanka: When I joined, a lot of that visual language was already in place.

At first, it’s about understanding what belongs in this world and what doesn’t. There are boundaries—even if they’re not written down.

But once you internalize that, it becomes very freeing. A lot of what I bring into the work comes from memory. Peeku’s world is built from a collective visual library—things I’ve seen growing up in South India. Food, plants, textures, everyday details.

Alak: And over time, it became clear that we weren’t just building illustrations—we were building a system.

Priyanka: That became especially apparent when we reworked the packaging.

We had been using softer, lighter tones earlier—they felt safe, but the illustrations weren’t standing out enough. The deep teal we use now—it wasn’t the obvious choice. It felt like a risk.

There was a real pull toward something more neutral, more comfortable. But once we chose teal, everything else had to align with it. Over time, it’s become something people immediately associate with us.

Alak: Around the same time, a lot of the visual thinking was being documented more clearly—what our lines look like, how precise or imprecise they should be, how color behaves. What had started as instinct slowly became a shared language.

Priyanka: Yes, the style is intentionally not too precise. The lines are loose. That’s what gives it warmth.

Patterns and Identity

Alak: Some elements also emerged unexpectedly, but very intuitively.

Priyanka: The dosa spiral pattern is one of them. It started as a graphic exploration—just drawing dosa spirals. But it stayed. It became part of the visual identity.

What Makes Peeku’s World Feel Alive

Priyanka: I think what makes Peeku’s world feel alive is that it feels lived in.

It’s not just decorative—it’s immersive. Peeku moves through it as a guide—someone who belongs there completely.

Before people understand anything, I want them to feel curious. Like they’ve entered something and want to look closer. In some ways, it feels like a bioscope—small glimpses into a larger world.

Aaryama: I also think of it in fragments. We don’t see everything at once. We see Peeku in small moments—almost like they’re sending us postcards from their life.

There’s always more beyond the frame. I imagine them walking through fields, picking wildflowers, watching birds, sitting quietly at night. Drawing this world often feels like stepping away from the real one.

A Distinctly Indian Visual Language

Aaryama: A lot of my thinking comes from wanting to avoid imitation. In design school, we were constantly told not to default to Western styles like Disney.

So I found myself looking elsewhere—towards Indian folk traditions, and also towards Japanese animation. Artists like Jamini Roy were important references. And so was the work of Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli.

But ultimately, style comes from repetition—how you hold a pen, how you draw without thinking. It becomes your visual handwriting.

Priyanka: I think color plays a big role in how Peeku’s world feels. The palette is earthy, warm, and grounded—colors you find in nature, in textiles, in everyday Indian spaces.

Alak: And the environments are very intentional.

For example, the kitchen we illustrated isn’t aspirational in a generic way—it’s specific. Beige walls instead of stark white, small architectural details like window grills. We could have made it more Western or more polished, but that wouldn’t have felt true.

Even with the one-pot meal illustrations, there was a moment where the setting could have gone in a more European direction—a rustic cottage, something familiar to Western audiences.

But Aaryama suggested it didn’t feel right. Peeku belongs here. So we brought it back to an Indian farmhouse sensibility.

Knowing When Something is Done

Priyanka: For me, an illustration is finished when it stops bothering me. If something feels off—even slightly—I have to go back and fix it. It needs to feel balanced. Once you start seeing that—depth, composition—you can’t unsee it.

Alak: I always ask—are you happy with it? Because that matters. It’s not just about whether something is complete. It’s about whether it feels right to the person who made it.

Looking Ahead

Aaryama: I hope that over time, people come to love Peeku as much as I do. There’s still so much of their world to explore.

Priyanka: And that’s the exciting part—it’s not finished. It’s still unfolding.