The Girl with a Guitar Who Rewrote the Meaning of Healing

The Girl with a Guitar Who Rewrote the Meaning of Healing

In a world that often separates science from art, Purvaa Sampath stands at the powerful intersection of both. A music therapist, educator, and founder of Mayahs’ Universe, Purvaa is reshaping how India thinks about healing—not with pills, but with rhythm, melody, and deeply human connection.

Her journey began not in a hospital, but in a humble music class. Her teacher was working with two neurodivergent students. She watched in awe as the students opened up—emotionally, socially, even cognitively. Their transformation wasn’t the result of traditional methods. It was music that made the difference. That moment quietly planted a seed in Purvaa’s mind: music can heal.

Despite this spark, her path wasn’t straightforward. She went on to study at the prestigious Berklee College of Music in the U.S.—a world-class institution, but one that didn’t quite prepare her for the Indian cultural context. Most would have seen that as a dead-end. But not Purvaa. She returned, adapted, and built something new. She shaped her learning to fit Indian realities, blending the science of music therapy with the emotional depth of India’s musical heritage.

Diagnosed with ADHD, she turned what some might call a “disability” into a driving force. Instead of being weighed down by it, she leaned into the experience—allowing it to fuel her empathy and guide her work with neurodivergent communities. “I had been called the girl with a guitar,” she recalls, not as a badge of honor, but as a way people dismissed her work. But she kept showing up—with her guitar—and kept proving them wrong.

One of the most moving stories she shared was about a woman in their geriatric therapy group. This woman didn’t speak for an entire month. Then, one day, a man beside her shared his first memory of Carnatic music. Something clicked. The woman began to speak. Not just speak—remember. She recalled what she wore the first time she heard Carnatic music. She even sang the first song she had ever learned. That moment didn’t just unlock a memory. It unlocked her.

Purvaa believes therapy in India has improved—but also knows there's a long way to go. “Therapy isn't yet seen as essential here,” she notes. Facilities are scarce, and people often hesitate to seek help. But that doesn’t stop her. Even when her center loses clients around March, she doesn’t take it as a failure. She simply adapts, explores new ideas, and keeps going.

As a teacher, she listens more than she instructs. “Every person has new experiences to share,” she says, “and those experiences shape how we do therapy.” She doesn’t just teach future music therapists what to do—she learns from them, growing in the process.

Purvaa is aware of her privilege. But instead of resting in it, she used it. “I didn’t want to depend on people or sit idle,” she says. Her energy, compassion, and refusal to give up have built something meaningful—not just for her, but for everyone she works with.

To those starting out in music therapy, her advice is simple: Don’t rush. “Take your time. Do quality programs. Don’t let a bad day define your future. If you have the passion, the path will unfold.”

Her work reminds us that therapy is not always found in sterile rooms with white coats—it can also be found in shared songs, in safe spaces, and in stories that rise like music from memory.

So the question isn't just what she has done.

The real question is: What are you doing with your voice?
Is it silenced by doubt? Or are you, like Purvaa, willing to let it sing?