Malvika spent six years creating for numbers — chasing algorithms, likes, and the next trending moment. But the day she pressed “record” and felt nothing, something changed.
ICONIC wasn’t born in a boardroom or social‑media strategy call; it was born when she decided to stop performing, start feeling, and take the wheel back. Equal parts Paris glow and desi heart, the song is her reclaiming of self — a declaration that she will no longer split herself between two worlds, but stand between them — whole, unfiltered, and beautifully hybrid. We sat down with her to learn more about ICONIC and her work:
- What moment or feeling first inspired “ICONIC”? Was there something specific that made you want to blend Parisian flair with Indian soul?
Honestly, it was realizing I wasn’t living my truth. I’m an artist, not an influencer. For 6 years I was creating for numbers—vanity, money, achievement—rather than for meaning and long-term goals. I’m grateful for everything social media gave me, but I let it run my life instead of using it to serve my purpose: depth, honesty, and emotional alchemy. “ICONIC” was the moment I took the wheel back.
The Paris × India blend is simply who I am. My core is deeply Desi—people from India joke I’m “more Desi than the kids in India”—so some echo of my roots will always live in my music. Paris is where my creativity feels most charged: I’m there often for Fashion Week, and also it carries a family thread. My late grandfather once brought my nani a beautiful sari from Paris (I recently got to wear it), and my mom tells stories of him insisting the whole family walk together rather than split into cabs. I’m releasing the song on his birthday. That mix—Paris glow, Indian warmth, and the idea of walking forward integrating in a new space—became the song’s North Star. It sounds like lifting your chin and strutting with heart.
- You’ve described “ICONIC” as a way to “reclaim your art after years of chasing algorithms.” What did that creative shift look like for you personally?
Scary—honestly, terrifying—but it was a calling I couldn’t outrun. On days I forced myself to post another makeup tutorial or scarf hack, my body was rejecting it. The only creation that felt real was writing, listening, and hunting for beats that made me feel something. I started alchemizing my refusal to follow formulas into world-building through music.
Practically, I swapped metrics for meaning. I stopped asking, “Will this perform?” and started asking, “Is this honest?” I stepped off the content treadmill and rebuilt my days around songwriting, vocal practice, losing myself in my favorite songs, making moodboards, and actions that chased feeling over trend. Fewer uploads, deeper work.
It’s the riskiest choice I’ve made. As a child of immigrants, stability is sacred—I’d built it quickly as a creator and had it for over six years. Shaking that up was scary but wildly liberating. My anxiety dropped, my standards rose, and I began creating from instinct again. To be frank, I didn’t know many people in the music industry and I used money I had earned through my years as a creator to fund my music, so of course, it was a risk. Still, I’m proud I chose purpose over comfort—and I hope it nudges others to ask if they’re moving toward the life their purpose demands. Long term goals over short term gains, always.
- The croissant ASMR intro and the Hindi “vah” outro are such vivid details — what story were you telling through those bookends?
The croissant ASMR actually came from a follower’s DM, and I thought: why not? Pushing boundaries and trying new textures is the point. It became a funny Paris wink. I’m genuinely so grateful my producer, Abhishek aka Lionoath, was always game to experiment, with this croissant idea and actually, whatever wild idea I sent his way.
The “vah” almost didn’t make it in; out of context it can read “cringe.” But ICONIC is exactly the song that deserves something fun, a little over-the-top, and unexpected. “Vah” is our Desi “wow”—a bravo and an exhale (or sometimes a sarcastic reply from our parents). If social media taught me anything, it’s to stop fearing “cringe” when the idea comes from instinct.
Together, they’re unexpected bookends: the croissant invites you like a Parisian welcome breakfast; the “vah” releases you into celebration.
- As someone who’s lived between cultures, how do you see “ICONIC” reflecting your identity and evolution as an Indian-American artist?
“ICONIC” matters to me—and, I hope, to other South Asian Americans and children of immigrants—because it refuses to choose. So many of us are steered toward one acceptable path, often without realizing how deeply we’ve been programmed by expectations. Blending Parisian flair with Indian soul and mostly English lyrics helps me make sense of that tension; it’s me accepting that my hyphen isn’t a divide, it’s a bridge.
When I listen back, I get emotional—not because the song is perfect, but because it reflects a version of myself I rarely see mirrored. It’s actually quite raw, behind the fun/polished production choices. We talk about representation, but we don’t always give ourselves the power to create it. This track is my answer to that: multi-cultural in spirit—Parisian silhouettes, Indian warmth, a global pop chassis—built to honor where I come from and where I’m going. “ICONIC” is basically a self-portrait, and hopefully acts as an invitation for others to author their own.
- Your Bharata Natyam background gives your performances such emotional depth. How does classical dance still influence how you move, write, or even produce music today?
At my Arangetram, my guru said, “This is the beginning of Malvika as an artist.” I didn’t grasp it at all back then; watching it back years later, I guess she was right. Viji Aunty, if you’re reading this—thank you, thank you so much. Bharata Natyam gave me discipline, dynamics, and narrative focus: even some of the production choices in my songs consider space and gesture—how a line lands, how a breath can elevate a feeling. On earlier tracks like “Love Is a Game,” I sent my producer a clip of my Arangetram for instrumentation cues; that lineage continued through “High Note” and “Spiraling.”
With “ICONIC,” the accordion riff already perfectly filled the spectrum of the song, so I chose restraint instead of piling on references for the sake of it.
Dance was my first experience of “embodied storytelling.” I wasn’t good at it at first, but I didn’t stop; by the end, I became genuinely strong. That lesson mirrors singing—I’d never taken vocal classes until the start of this year and honestly didn’t think I could sing. I’m still a work in progress, but dance taught me that with hard work, effort, and love, you can do almost anything.
Overall, Bharata Natyam informs my commitment to trusting process over quick results. Dance taught me to surrender, to let the magic happen in the doing, and to say more with less.
- You’ve built this multi-dimensional world where fashion, music, and storytelling meet. How do you decide what medium best fits a certain idea or emotion?
I start by surrendering—quieting the noise, dropping the urge to force a narrative (even the dreaded “promo” angle), and asking the universe and my gut to lead.
From there I go inward, then curate inputs—runway references, ragas, photos, city sounds, even foods—until the right motifs “click.” Usually, each release touches all three so the world feels whole: the song sets the heartbeat, the look sets the silhouette, and the visual/story gives it meaning. My job is to edit and arrange, not over-explain. I trust instinct over prediction, I think that’s what keeps the work honest. It’s been so fun using fashion week to tease or announce my releases–from wearing spiral motifs during NYFW to teasing ICONIC during PFW a month ago–that for me is proof that I’m actually integrating my last 6 years into my identity as an artist now.
- The word “iconic” is often used loosely, but you’re giving it your own definition. What does being iconic mean to you?
Iconic is unapologetic alignment—it’s who you become when you stop over-performing and start expressing from truth. Expressing the real facets of your identity and the experiences—traumatic or beautiful—that are uniquely yours. It isn’t perfection, virality, or hype; it’s consistency, integrity, and presence. Stop people-pleasing, stop making excuses, and honestly ask yourself who you are and what your soul’s greatest purpose or calling is. When your work comes from that honest place and you let it move people, that’s iconic—hopefully like this song: integrity you can dance to.
- You’ve collaborated with brands like Tory Burch, L’Oréal, and Pandora — how has working in fashion shaped your understanding of performance and persona?
I’ve been lucky—most partners have trusted me to tell my story. There are those one off campaigns that are more prescriptive, but, overall, fashion has let me go deeper than product.
With Pandora, I shared how both my dog Lucky and I accessorize with charms—a small, personal detail that felt special and true. With Tory Burch, simply being able to choose the exact pieces mattered; I picked looks I’d genuinely wear, often a bit more colorful—maybe that’s the Desi touch. Those experiences keep my persona grounded in specificity. Fashion shaped my performance language: curate, refine, and let your identity + taste carry the art (song, outfit, campaign, or otherwise).
- You’re part of a wave of South Asian creators redefining global culture. What do you hope your work adds to that larger conversation?
First, thank you—that’s a huge compliment. I’m still the same girl who doubted she could move anyone. If my work does anything, I hope it gives permission to be expansive. Cross-cultural pop isn’t a checklist of instruments; it’s a point of view. I want South Asian girls—and really anyone—to feel free to be fearlessly themselves.
I’m an introvert (INFJ), and for a long time I felt misaligned forcing attention onto myself. Letting my introspective nature be a strength changed everything; the depth shows up in the music and visuals. I’m not making art “for introverts,” but I am saying: whatever your quirks are, there’s a way to express them that feels true to you.
I also want us to stop boxing ourselves into genres, job titles, or subcultures. Global identity is an advantage, not a compromise. Our own traditions and sacred texts teach that we carry a universe within us—why not create like that? If my work adds anything, I hope it’s the courage to claim that fullness.
- Looking ahead, what kind of world are you trying to build through your art — and what do you want listeners to feel when they step into it?
I’m building a multi-dimensional world where fashion, movement, screen presence, and melody speak the same language—confident, cinematic, and deeply personal. It’s a home for hybrid identities: you don’t have to choose one version of yourself; you get to be all of them. Emotion isn’t a flaw, it’s actually material and we don’t numb it; we alchemize it. Femininity is sacred and powerful, not performative. Culture isn’t a costume; it’s soul, not “fusion” so much as truth.
Also, and perhaps most poignantly, aesthetics are not vanity; they’re vocabulary—intentional styling, Desi details, cinematic mood—for me, have always been chosen to serve feeling. Similarly, the music is emotional architecture: built to make you feel, not just move.
When you step into this world, I want you to exhale. I want you to feel seen, beautiful, reconnected to your roots, emotional and empowered at once. I want reinvention to feel safe and a little sexy. I want your softness to feel like strength. I want you to dance with your feelings—and leave feeling held.
Lastly, let me say, this is just the beginning. More music, visuals, and hopefully music videos, in time. Picture abhi bakhi hai, mere dost.