A parcel arrives. You open it. Only after every single member has held theirs do we post the reveal. No spoilers, no notifications, no tracking the hype. Just the post, and the waiting.
You will never know what's coming. We post the reveal only once all of you have received yours — so nobody's surprise gets spoiled by somebody else's feed.
No notifications. No countdown timers. No app pinging you at 9am. No technology in the middle of it at all. Just pure patience, the way it used to be.
I'm Muskan, and I live in Jaipur — a city of palaces, mirrored ceilings, and staircases that go somewhere they shouldn't. I've spent a lot of my life wandering into places I probably wasn't supposed to be, and taking photographs of them on cameras older than I am.
By day I'm an AI engineer. I build agent pipelines and retrieval systems, I write code that has to be right, and I've got two gold medals in a Master's in AI and Data Science to show I take the rigour seriously. I like evidence. I like things that can be measured.
And I also pull a tarot card before big decisions. I keep crystals on my windowsill. I light candles for no particular reason and I trust a feeling in a room I can't justify on paper.
I've never understood why those two are supposed to be in conflict. The people who built the observatory here in Jaipur were doing astronomy and astrology out of the same instruments. Precision and wonder aren't opposites. This club is what happens when you refuse to pick a side.
— Muskan, founder & sole curator
None of this is a business plan. It's just what I'm like, and it's where every parcel comes from.
I'm a developer who builds production AI agent pipelines and retrieval systems for a living — the kind of work that wants to be measured, tested, and correct before it ships.
I make and sell candles in whatever hours are left over. Some of what ends up in a parcel is quite literally poured, cooled, and packaged by me first.
Years of fests — stalls, chaos, last-minute everything. It taught me more about building something people actually want than any course did.
Cash in a tin, hands full, still going at 11pm. There's something about handing a stranger something you made yourself that this club is basically built on.
The builds, the candles, the fest disasters — I like documenting things almost as much as doing them. That instinct is a large part of why this club exists.
I have no patience for very literary fiction. Give me something hopeful and impossible in real life, and I'll finish it in one sitting. Whatever lands in a parcel is held to the same standard.
Every month is a different theme, and nothing repeats. This is the world it gets pulled from:
Something to read that isn't on a screen.
Small, strange, playable alone or with someone.
Sometimes mine. Sometimes borrowed, always attributed.
The kind you'd actually pin up, not the kind that make you cringe.
Things I've cooked and can vouch for.
Old ones, gentle ones, from kitchens and grandmothers.
A scent tied to whatever the month is about.
Charms, crystals, antiques, things with a past.
A card, and what it might be trying to tell you.
A palace, a place, a story you hadn't heard.
Something to make, write in, or stick somewhere.
From me to you. Always. Every single month.
…or something not on this list at all. That's rather the point.
The club as it stands today — the full curated parcel, a handwritten letter, tracked post, and a place in a very small, very early group of people.
Alpha is Beta, plus something more. Once fifty Beta members are in, Alpha opens — everything Beta includes, and an extra held back for the people who arrived early.
Launches alongside the six-month plan.
Drop your email to join the mailing list. You'll get a code straight away — use it on your first parcel for 10% off.
Get your NEWMEMBER code for 10% off the first one.
One month or three. Six unlocks when Alpha does.
Send your address and a little about yourself, so the curation is actually for you.
Once it's posted you'll get a tracking number. After that, patience.