"A home isn’t a house.” I’d heard those words many times growing up, but never really understood them until I met someone who truly embodied their meaning. To most, a home is a space defined by four walls and measured in square metres. But for some, it’s a feeling. For Pattrica Lipatapanlop, home is a country she fell in love with, a place she found herself in. Our first meeting was at Jharokha by Indus, where her inviting energy was impossible to ignore. There was something effortless about the way she carried herself, the way she greeted the staff like old friends, even the strand of flowers weaved into her hair: she was infused with an undeniable air of India. As we sat down to talk, it quickly became clear that her connection to the country ran far deeper than mere appreciation; it was a deep-rooted love, one that radiated through every word she spoke.
Could you give us some insight into your upbringing? As a Thai woman with such a deep love for Indian culture, what first sparked your fascination with India?
I was born in the United States and lived there until I was two before my parents separated. My father brought me back to Thailand, where I was raised by my grandparents. My grandparents were contractors, constantly busy with work, and I spent much of my childhood rather lonely. As sharp as they were in business, the nuances of raising a young girl slipped through the cracks. Being their first grandchild and the only girl in the household, I grew up without much physical affection. Hugs, words of reassurance, and simple expressions of love were rare. Since I often acted in ways that did not align with their expectations, I was frequently scolded and compared to other children. These wounds once cut deep, but time has softened them. Now, I see their love was never absent, just unspoken. They raised me as they were raised – where affection was not in words or touch but in lessons, however harsh they seemed. Perhaps their sternness was love in a language I only learned to understand later.
When I was younger, my drawers often overflowed with journals. Every surge of emotion and every fleeting thought found its way onto those pages, turning them into a sanctuary of secrets. Sometimes, I flip through them and feel startled by the sheer volume of what I once poured out, every detail of my young life, even down to how many boyfriends I had at the time. My journals knew me better than anyone. They held my brightest moments and my darkest days. Now, looking back at those entries feels like uncovering a testament to my journey into becoming a writer, a raw and unfiltered chronicle of the girl I was and the storyteller I was destined to be.
During my university days, I was deeply involved in social events. I loved writing scripts and acting, and I was an active member of the theatre club. Every moment on stage brought me a sense of fulfilment.
My first full-time job was as an account executive at a media company, where I worked on the special events team, managing projects for clients who hired our services. However, nearly every project I handled seemed to spiral out of control. The main reason was my bluntness. I spoke my mind too often, a trait that clashed with the role’s unspoken rule of prioritising client satisfaction above all else. Account executives were expected to cater to every request, whereas I struggled to suppress my honesty. The only project that truly worked in my favour was with an airline. Unlike other clients, the executives valued my directness and entrusted me with a project that would unknowingly shape my future. Our team was assigned to produce a documentary series covering eight destinations the airline serviced, and I was required to travel for each one. On these trips, I carried my journal everywhere, documenting each new experience while capturing photographs along the way. It was through this project that I first recognised my love for travel.
By the time it ended, I knew the account executive role was not for me. I resigned and pursued photography studies in Australia for two years, spending countless hours in the darkroom, developing film and refining my craft. When I returned to Thailand, I joined a music production company as a photographer under their public relations team before transitioning into media as a writer for Dichan, a women’s magazine. My main work was a column on homes and hotels, where I managed both photography and interviews. This role took me across Thailand and beyond, fuelling a growing interest in India.
That fascination began with a single photograph. It was an image taken by a National Geographic photographer at a Holi festival in Vrindavan. The frame was drenched in colour, with a hazy backdrop of an ancient temple. In the foreground, women dressed in white saris stood adorned with bursts of powdered pigments, the vibrant hues spilling across their garments like an untamed painting. The image stirred something deep within me, an emotion I could not quite name. It filled me with an unshakable excitement and an insatiable hunger to experience India for myself.
Growing up in Thailand, how was your perception of India shaped before you ever visited? How did that perception evolve after your first trip?
Before visiting India, I had watched a handful of documentaries that painted a rather stark picture of the country. They showed sprawling slums, homelessness, old-fashioned sensibilities, and roads piled with rubbish. Mind you, this was 16 years ago. Despite my fascination with India’s rich culture and vibrant colours, those ingrained images made me hesitant to go. To be honest, I suspect many others have hesitated for the same reasons, which is entirely unfair to India.So much of what people believe about the country is shaped by the media, where selective storytelling and carefully framed shots dictate the narrative. Negative news and bleak imagery are easy to monetise, and unfortunately, they overshadow the breathtaking beauty that India holds. There are millions of moments, places, and experiences that go unnoticed simply because the world is more inclined to focus on what seems less desirable.
It wasn’t until my first trip to India that I truly understood the complexity of the country. I landed in Kolkata at two in the morning, and the experience was far from pleasant. The fault didn’t lie with India itself but with my own choice of destination for a first-time visit. At that time, I often travelled as a backpacker, believing I could always find accommodation on the fly. So, I arrived without a booking. I took a taxi to Sudder Street, a well-known area for backpackers, expecting it to be lively and welcoming. But when I arrived, the streets were pitch dark, with homeless people scattered across the pavements, creating an unsettling atmosphere.
The guesthouse I had chosen seemed deserted, its doors all shut. I had to knock persistently before someone finally opened up. When I entered my room, I felt a wave of regret wash over me. I told myself I was done with India, ready to pack my bags and head home. I was convinced I’d never travel here again. But, in a twist of fate, that moment marked the beginning of a long and unbreakable bond with the country. Nearly 17 years later, I still find myself drawn to India, visiting over and over again. Now, when I pass through immigration, I’m often asked why I come so frequently. I simply smile and tell them, “I must’ve been born Indian in my past life.”
You’ve visited India over 30 times in the last 16 years. What keeps pulling you back? Is it the people, the food, the history, or something more intangible?
India is a nation of unparalleled diversity, from its customs and culture to its cuisine, language, and climate. What I experienced during my first trip to Kolkata represents less than 0.001 percent of what this vast country truly has to offer. The reason I keep returning to India is the deep, unshakeable bond I’ve formed with it. Each time I land, I feel an overwhelming sense of ‘home’. The people here feel like family, my extended, welcoming family. When I choose a place to stay during my travels, I often return to the same house because the people there have become like close relatives. As soon as the house guards spot me walking towards the gate with my bags, they shout out to the owners, "Didi Pat is here!" The warmth in those words always fills me with a deep sense of belonging. Many speak of India and caution against the dangers of a woman travelling alone, but for me, it’s entirely the opposite. Every time I step off the plane onto Indian soil, no matter the city, I’m met with an infectious energy that resonates with my own. It feels like a warm embrace, a sense of safety, and an exhilarating burst of vitality.
You often share your love for Indian cuisine and traditional wear. How do you incorporate elements of Indian culture into your daily routine?
My content on TikTok and Instagram, which focus on Indian cuisine, actually began because I used to struggle with enjoying Indian food. I was never the biggest fan of masalas, and during my first two years of visiting India, I always carried a stash of Parle-G biscuits in my bag. Each time I ran out, I made sure to restock. My introduction to Indian food was slow, starting with dishes like chicken tandoori and roti since they were easy to enjoy. Eventually, I ventured into dal, but my choices remained quite limited.
As my travels to India became more frequent, I realised I couldn’t keep relying on biscuits and safe choices. If I wanted to spend my life exploring India, I needed to embrace its cuisine, because food is one of the country’s foundations. Understanding and appreciating Indian food felt like the key to unlocking the deeper layers of the culture. So, I began trying more dishes, and with that came a newfound sense of excitement, curiosity, and even adventure. I wanted to understand why certain dishes used yoghurt as a key ingredient, why the Muslim population consumed large amounts of meat, how regional cuisines differed, and why chaat was packed with so many spices. The more I questioned, the more I learned, and soon, I wanted to share that knowledge with Thais, many of whom, like my former self, misunderstood Indian cuisine.
I have also developed a deep love for Indian attire. I adore saris, kurtas, and traditional Indian patterns and silhouettes, as they flatter my body shape effortlessly. Every time I buy clothes in India, they fit me perfectly, with no need foralterations. Their XS and S sizes feel like they were made for me. Nowadays, I rarely shop for clothes in Thailand, choosing instead to save and splurge whenever I visit India.
Beyond Indian cuisine and attire, which have become part of my daily rituals, I have also embraced meditation and Pranayama. I have been practicing yoga for over a decade, but it was only three years ago that I introduced Pranayama into my routine. It feels like a natural extension of meditation and breathwork, simple yet deeply impactful. I mean, each day, our minds are flooded with countless thoughts, external pressures, and the inner struggles we already carry. Without a proper outlet, these burdens accumulate. Pranayama has become my way of clearing my inner world, a practice that grounds me. No matter how busy my day may be, I always make time for 45 minutes of Pranayama each morning.
Your book, Past Life, I Must Have Been Born Indian, suggests a deep spiritual or emotional connection to India. What inspired the title, and how did you decide to turn your experiences into a book?
As the book’s title suggests, it truly reflects what I believe [smiles]. This book is a collection of my experiences travelling through India. I have always been someone who enjoys journaling, and from my very first visit to India to my most recent trip, I have never travelled without a journal. No matter what happens or what situation unfolds, I document each moment. I believe that whatever we write in the rawness of the present is the purest, most unfiltered truth. It captures emotions as they are, without the distortion of hindsight. When we revisit our words, we can relive those moments exactly as they were, with all their grit and authenticity. Without writing things down, we risk letting time erode the truth of our emotions, which I see as a loss.
One day, I had an epiphany: I had so much material, why not turn it into a book? I gathered my drafts and wove them together with elements of India that I had collected along the way: photographs, fabrics, train tickets, mentions of Mahatma Gandhi, golden accents, a fabric marigold custom-made for me by an Indian textile designer that I used as a bookmark, and other small artifacts that embodied the spirit of my journey. I poured immense time and resources into this book, both financially and emotionally. My goal was for readers to open its pages and immediately feel the essence of India.
I am incredibly proud of this book. It won the DEmark (Design Excellence) award for its layout, and every copy has sold out. I have another manuscript about India waiting to be printed, but for now, financial constraints have put it on hold. Still, I trust in divine timing – one day, it will find its way into the world.
Your food videos have introduced many to the beauty of Indian cuisine. What are some of your favourite dishes?
I have a deep appreciation for Goan cuisine, which is rich in seafood. Due to its colonial past under Portuguese rule, the region absorbed a great deal of Portuguese influence. One of my favourite dishes is Prawn Caldine, a prawn curry infused with coconut milk and yellow chilli, typically eaten with Bhakri, a soft roti. The warmth and depth of its flavours make every bite comforting. I also love a well-made biryani, and I recently returned from Hyderabad, where I immersed myself in the techniques behind Hyderabadi biryani. I genuinely see Indian cuisine as a high art form.
Even something as simple as Bombay duck — a delicately battered fish that, despite its name, has nothing to do with ducks — is incredibly tender and can only be found in Mumbai. I am also a frequent enjoyer of chaat, particularly papri chaat. Beyond the layers of complex flavours, what captivates me most is watching street vendors craft these dishes with absolute mastery. Their fluid movements, their instinctive use of spices, and the way they assemble each plate without ever relying on measurements are truly awe-inspiring.
What do you hope your readers take away from your books and travel experiences? Is there a message you feel most passionate about sharing through your work?
I see my book as a testament to a journey; one that began with me viewing India as a distant stranger and ended with the country becoming an inseparable part of my life. It captures both the beauty and the challenges of India, though, in truth, many of the challenges I wrote about were shaped by my own fears and misconceptions during my early visits. As the pages unfold, particularly past the halfway mark, the narrative shifts. My experiences become more nuanced, shaped by deeper immersion and time spent living among locals.
With an open mind and a willingness to understand, I found that my journey became richer, each chapter infused with moments of joy, discovery, and belonging. This book is my love letter to India. I believe that anyone who holds it in their hands will feel that affection, and perhaps, it will serve as a bridge to their own adventures in India.