The pandemic, Richa reflects, was among the most devastating ruptures humanity has faced in recent memory. And yet, within that global unravelling, it became an unexpected moment of reckoning for her team that clarified how they would respond to uncertainty, and what kind of institution they were becoming. The turning point arrived even before the lockdown was formally announced. In mid-March 2020, as news filtered in from New York and familiar streets around Washington Square began to empty, Richa was on the phone with her daughter. She urged her to get home on the first flight. Soon, her daughter returned, along with a small constellation of friends.
What followed was an unfamiliar stillness: young people, used to movement and momentum, suddenly confined. Richa could imagine what this stillness represented among the masses, and it became the spark for her KCC team. Out of necessity, and curiosity they began experimenting online, shaping informal learning sessions that paired unlikely ideas: art with economics, culture with current affairs. The first session went live in early April, barely two weeks into lockdown. Following some hesitation and a few sputtered starts, the sessions began to fill. Soon, over a hundred people were joining, seeking connection, and a way to think through a world that no longer made sense. Richa shares that the success of those early digital conversations was about realizing that institutions, like societies, have to keep moving, even when everything else stops.
Over the years, Richa’s philanthropic journey with KCC has been as much about unlearning as it has been about building. The challenges she speaks of are not episodic hurdles, but structural tensions that every cultural institution must eventually confront, and often without a manual. “Artists are struggling with sustainability. Communities are losing traditional craft practices. And most people still feel art is distant, something for someone else.”
The work of culture-building is slow, and not always easily visible in an era that rewards speed and spectacle. Institutions must respond to shifting social currents, new technologies, evolving audience expectations, and the very real precarity that artists and artisans navigate daily. The question she returns to often is not how much they can do, but how well they can listen, adapt, and hold space for creative ecosystems that need patience to thrive.
For Richa, this combination of visibility for creators and belonging for audiences is the clearest expression of cultural impact: a space where people recognize themselves, each other, and the wider world in new ways. She points to influences that have shaped her thinking—the ambition of the Kochi Biennale, the legacy of philanthropists like Sangita Jindal and Kiran Nadar, and a visit to Uzbekistan, where state leadership treated culture as national infrastructure. These encounters clarified something essential: that cultural philanthropy must be both bold in ambition and rooted in context. “We’ve chosen collaboration over competition. It requires shared principles. A shared purpose. But when it works, the work grows beyond what any of us imagined.”