Industrial Designer — products you can hold
I design physical products that bridge human needs, emerging technology, and meaningful experience — from the first scribbled sketch to a manufacturable, market-ready object.
Explore the work ↗Each began as a studio brief and grew into a full design story — research, form, engineering, and the business case behind it.
A portable, steam-and-plasma clothing-care appliance in LG's design language — de-wrinkle, de-odorize and sanitize a shirt before a meeting. Foam form studies to a servo-driven working prototype.
Open case study →One system, two objects: Luna, a tampon dispenser redesigned to be fully mechanical and manufacturable, and Eva, a UV + motion menstrual-cup steriliser with working electronics — wrapped in a real go-to-market plan.
Open case study →Power tools are built around the average male hand. This Bosch concept rejects the industry's "pink it and shrink it" shortcut and uses real male and female hand data to design two genuinely different-fitting drills.
Open case study →Shorter explorations — where I push form, finish and material for the joy of it.
A solid-body electric in deep aubergine with a satin-chrome hardware story — a study in classic proportion and modern CMF.
A headset concept from a human–machine interaction brief — soft strap ergonomics, a glowing aperture, weight you forget you're wearing.
A hair straightener whose form borrows the silhouette of the sterlet fish — a sculpted grip and ceramic-coated plates.
I'm comfortable across the whole arc — talking to people, sketching, building it in CAD, soldering the prototype, and making the business case for it.
I'm Esha — a product and experience designer trained across industrial design and UX. I love the moment a sketch becomes a part you can hold: a snap-fit that lands, a mechanism that does exactly one thing well, a surface that asks to be picked up.
My work runs the full distance — research to understand the person, CAD and prototyping to make it real, and strategy to give it a reason to exist in the market. I think in systems and care, maybe too much, about the human on the other side of the object.
This is my industrial-design shelf. My digital-product work lives next door.
Got an object that needs designing?
Let's talk ↗
One system, two products — period care for life on the move.
Fenty Flow is a small product family for people who menstruate while travelling, hiking and camping, where there's no clean, private place to manage period care. It answers that with two objects, both designed in Fenty's discreet, premium visual language: Luna, a travel tampon dispenser, and Eva, a menstrual-cup cleaner and steriliser. One need, met two ways — for people who use tampons and people who use cups.
Student concept project. "Fenty" is used purely as a brand-language reference — to practise designing within an existing identity. Fenty Flow, Luna and Eva are not real products and are not affiliated with, endorsed by, or connected to the brand.
FIG 00 Fenty Flow — Luna, the travel tampon dispenser, and Eva, the menstrual-cup cleaner & steriliser.
The brief sat where travel meets menstruation, in a brand world borrowed from Fenty: discreet, premium, unapologetically for every body. Public bathrooms on the road are unreliable; the wilderness offers nothing at all.
So I treated it like a tiny product company — one identity, Fenty Flow, making the two objects a menstruating traveller actually needs: somewhere hygienic to carry and dispense tampons (Luna), and a way to keep a reusable cup clean off-grid (Eva).
The pain is the same whoever you are: away from home, there's nowhere hygienic or private to deal with your period. What differs is what you use — so Fenty Flow answers it twice.
A quick scan before drawing: the category is large and growing, but the players are either clinical vending boxes or single-purpose disposal bags — none carries the whole moment. The full sizing and business plan come at the end; up front, it was enough to confirm the gap was real and the value proposition clear.
FIG 01 Market & trend scan
FIG 02 Where competitors sit
FIG 03 Value-proposition canvas
Both products were explored together so they'd read as siblings — dozens of forms for the dispenser and the steriliser, chasing one discreet, pocketable language.
FIG 04 Ideation — Luna and Eva, drawn side by side.
Luna carries tampons, dispenses them one at a time, and seals away waste until you reach a real bin. It went through two stages: an expressive first concept, then a ground-up redesign for manufacture — fewer parts, no electronics, and an assembly that could actually leave a factory.
The first Luna was a tall, tapered, triangular body — soft and friendly, with a rotary stand inside that fed tampons out one by one and a compartment below for sealable disposal. The animation walks through the whole idea: load it, twist to dispense, drop waste into the base.
It worked as a concept and looked the part. But the form hid real manufacturing problems — complex curved surfaces, an over-engineered dispense action, and parts that would have been expensive and fiddly to mould and assemble.
FILM 01 Concept animation — load, dispense, dispose
FIG 05 Luna — the first, triangular concept model.
The first concept was a lovely object that would have been a nightmare to manufacture. So Luna got a second life — designed for the factory, not the render.
The pivot — concept to production
The redesign traded soft triangular curves for a calm, rectangular body that's easy to injection-mould — uniform wall thicknesses, proper draft, flat faces that pack and ship. Crucially, the production design has no electronics and nothing cost-heavy: every function is purely mechanical, made from moulded parts that snap together.
That's the whole point of the redesign — it's cheaper, more robust and genuinely manufacturable, because the dispensing and the assembly are solved with joinery and a ratchet-and-pawl mechanism instead of motors and fasteners.
FIG 06 Luna — the manufacturable rectangular body.
FIG 07 Ghost view — every internal part, nothing hidden.
The dispense action is a ratchet-and-pawl: a spring-loaded pawl rides a toothed ratchet wheel, so the lever turns the internal stand in one direction only. Each pull indexes exactly one tampon and the pawl locks against back-drive — no motor, no battery, just a spring and two moulded parts doing one job well.
Every join is a designed-in snap feature: cantilever clips and bosses that locate and lock the moulded shells together. No screws, no adhesive — it clicks shut, which is faster to assemble, cheaper to make, and easy to open for refilling.
FIG 08 Joinery & mechanism details — all moulded, all snap-together.
Exploded, the production model reads as a short, honest parts list: two outer shells, the rotary stand, the ratchet wheel and pawl, a spring, and the disposal drawer. Every part earns its place and every visible seam is a snap line.
fewer parts, no tech — that's what makes it cheap ✦FIG 09 Exploded — the full, mouldable parts list.
FIG 10 Luna — dimensioned technical drawing (top, front, side).
To pressure-test desirability, I mocked Luna and Eva up as products you could actually buy — page, price, the works. Designing the retail moment forces honesty about who this is for and what they'll pay.
FIG 11 Retail mockup — Luna and Eva, on a Fenty Flow storefront.
Where Luna is purely mechanical, Eva is the electronic half of the system — a cordless, cylindrical device that spins and UV-treats a menstrual cup clean, with no boiling water and no power outlet. Built for Computer-Aided Industrial Design: modelled in Fusion 360, wired on a real circuit, 3D-printed and switched on.
FIG 12 Eva sketches — working out how to hold, spin and light the cup.
The resolved form is a soft cylinder with a simple two-button cap: drop the cup in, press, and a motor rotates it under a ring of UV light to sanitise every surface. It shares Fenty Flow's discreet, premium language with Luna, but sized and shaped for its very different job.
FIG 13 Eva — the final cylindrical form.
FILM 02 Eva working prototype — the 3D-printed unit running a full motion + UV cycle.
The electronics are deliberately buildable: an Arduino Nano drives an N20 100 RPM motor through an L293D driver, with a ring of UV LEDs, a push-button trigger and a 9V supply. I laid the circuit out, soldered it, printed the housing and assembled a unit that completes a real cycle.
FIG 14 Eva — circuit material, the wired board, and the printed housing.
With the products resolved, the last step was the business — sizing the opportunity and planning how Fenty Flow would actually reach people. The strategy fed back into the design: discretion, refillability, the price ceiling and the all-in-one footprint are answers to market questions, not afterthoughts.
Narrowed by income and travel behaviour to a reachable beachhead.
Volume scaling 5,500 → 22,000 units; TAM ≈ 110k.
High quality, accessible entry price — no true all-in-one rival.
The 5-year plan pairs unit growth with awareness, because the real adoption barrier is stigma, not price. Go-to-market runs through manufacturers, suppliers, e-commerce, retailers and pharmacies, supported by the right stakeholders for a health product — FDA, UNFPA, environmental and policy voices, doctors, NGOs and the National Health Mission.
strategy shaped the form, not the other way round ✦FIG 15 Five-year plan, stakeholders & go-to-market.
Fenty Flow is where I stopped designing single objects and started designing a system — two products, an identity, hardware, electronics, manufacturing and a market, all made to hang together. The sharpest lesson was how brutally Design for Manufacturing edits an idea: the second Luna is better than the first precisely because the factory wouldn't let me lie to myself.
If I carried it further, I'd usability-test Eva's cycle with real users, validate UV dosage properly, and run a small moulding-cost study against the ₹3–4k Luna target. But as a proof that I can take a human need from interview to two manufacturable, switched-on, sellable products — this is the one I'd put on the bench first.
Disclaimer. This is a student concept project. The Fenty name and visual identity were used solely as a design-language reference for an academic brief — Fenty Flow, Luna and Eva are not real products and are not affiliated with, endorsed by, or connected to Fenty or its parent companies in any way.
Walk in creased. Walk out sharp. Five minutes.
A portable clothing-care appliance for LG — steam and plasma in a piece you can keep by the door, designed to de-wrinkle, de-odorize and sanitize formalwear before a meeting. We took it from sticky-note research through foam form studies to a servo-driven prototype that physically moves the garment.
Student concept project. "LG" is used purely as a brand-language reference — to practise designing within an existing identity. This appliance is not a real product and is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or connected to the brand.
FIG 00 Final form, two colorways — a hanger frame on a weighted, tech-filled base.
LG asks every product to add value to everyday life and to do it cleanly — its "Jeong-do" ethos. We aimed the brief at entrepreneurs and professionals living the back-to-back life: people who need a shirt to look meeting-ready in minutes, without a dry-cleaner or an ironing board.
The opportunity: shrink the wardrobe-care ritual into one portable object that removes wrinkles, odour and allergens — and looks like it belongs in LG's lineup, not a laundry room.
Primary research turned into a wall of sticky notes — washing mishaps, drying and ironing pain, the future of laundry, even Covid's effect on home garment hygiene. Clustering it surfaced the real jobs: speed, minimal steps, space, and quality kept intact.
It started as a wall of rough ideas, narrowed to three directions worth developing, then built in XPS foam and mountboard to test scale and stance in the hand. The winning idea kept recurring: a slim hanger-shaped frame on a weighted base that hides the water and electronics.
FIG 01 Ideation — dozens of forms, fast and loose
FIG 02 Form development — the rotating steam-and-plasma body
FIG 03 Form development — the folding press-and-steam frame
FIG 04 Three concepts, finalised from ideation and built in foam.
Two principles do the work. Steam relaxes the fabric: water heats in the base, travels up the stand, through the frame and a retractable internal pipe, and out across the garment — loosening the fibre bonds that hold a wrinkle. Plasma handles odour: charged particles move along the textile fibres and break down the small molecules behind smells, bacteria and allergens.
We proved the motion with a pulley mechanism and a servo, then built a working prototype that physically tensions and moves the garment belt — the part you can't fake in a render.
FILM 01 Working prototype — servo-driven belt & frame
FILM 02 Mechanism in motion, detail
FIG 05 The payoff — wrinkled to crisp in a single cycle.
In CAD the product resolved into a clean hanger frame on a heavy, stable base — a pull-out water tank and the steam-and-plasma hardware packed below. These renders walk around the form and cut into it, from the open frame to the weighted foot.
FIG 06 Open frame — three-quarter view
FIG 07 Hanger & steam frame, in detail
FIG 08 The weighted base, up close
FIG 09 General-arrangement drawing — top, front & side, dimensioned.
The finished Garment Refresher is unmistakably an appliance — calm surfaces, a confident stance, an interface that says "hang, press, go." It earns its place by the door, not in the utility room, and reads as part of LG's family at a glance.
My role. This was a three-person studio project with Ayushi and Khushnaz. I worked across research and synthesis, form development and CAD, and the prototyping that proved the mechanism. The biggest lesson was product architecture — making steam, plasma, water and structure share one small, balanced body without the design feeling crowded.
Disclaimer. This is a student concept project. The LG name and visual identity were used solely as a design-language reference for an academic brief — this appliance is not a real product and is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or connected to LG in any way.
Designed around the hands that actually use it.
A 2025 conceptual cordless drill for Bosch — and a quiet argument. Most power tools are sized to the average male hand, which leaves a lot of people gripping a tool that doesn't fit. The industry's usual answer is to "pink it and shrink it." This project refuses that, and uses real male and female hand data to design two genuinely different-fitting drills instead.
Student concept project. "Bosch" is used purely as a brand-language reference — to practise designing within an existing identity. This drill is not a real product and is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or connected to the brand.
FIG 00 Two drills from one design — fitted to different hands, not just painted different colours.
Bosch's DNA is bold, bright, engaging, and built on the promise Invented for life. I studied that language — fluid forms, confident colour, real connectivity — against benchmarks like the AdvancedImpact line, and moodboarded the brand's world: water, sculpted architecture, a certain machined confidence.
The brief was a 2025 concept drill. I used it to ask a sharper question than "make it look new": who is a drill actually shaped for, and who quietly gets left out?
Hand tools are overwhelmingly designed around 50th-percentile male anthropometrics — grip span, finger reach, palm breadth, and the weight a hand can comfortably control. For smaller hands, that shows up as reduced comfort, less control, and a trigger you have to stretch for. The tool works; it just wasn't sized for you.
"Pink it and shrink it" is the industry's shortcut — recolour a man's tool, scale it down, call it inclusive. That's a paint job, not a fit.
The premise this project pushes against
So I separated the two things the cliché collapses together. Colour is identity and is fine to vary. Fit is ergonomics and has to be earned from data — grip circumference, trigger-to-grip distance, and mass distribution differ between male and female hand populations, and those are the variables that actually change how a drill feels.
I sketched dozens of grips and bodies on paper, chasing a silhouette that read as Bosch yet could flex between two hand sizes — then grounded the work in the drill's own history, from hand-cranked tools to the cordless era.
FIG 01 Grip & body exploration
FIG 02 Form studies, page after page
FIG 03 Product history — grounding the form in the tool's lineage, from hand-crank to cordless.
Both drills share a modern, capable platform: a brushless motor for efficiency and runtime, a QuickSnap chuck interface that swaps between drill, eccentric and angle attachments, an integrated screw garage with a magnetic foot so bits are always to hand, and an LED screen to set speed and bit selection. It runs on Bosch's Power for All battery so it shares power with the rest of a home's tools.
What changes between versions isn't the feature set — it's the geometry around the hand.
FIG 04 The anatomy — jaw, chuck, torque, screen, battery.
FIG 05 The LED screen — speed & bit selection at a glance.
Here's the deliberate provocation: yes, one version is pink and smaller. But it earns it. The women's drill is sized from female hand data — a slimmer grip circumference, a shorter trigger reach, and mass shifted for control in a lighter hand — and the colour is a choice, not the strategy. The men's drill is built from male data in Bosch's classic blue. Same brain, two honest fits.
FIG 06 Women's fit (left) and men's fit (right) — different geometry, shared platform.
This is a conceptual studio project, and I want to be honest about that — it's an exploration, not a validated, tested product line. The two fits are argued from published hand-anthropometric differences rather than from my own measured user study.
But the thinking is the takeaway. Designing two versions forced me to notice the "neutral" default hiding in almost every tool, and to separate identity from ergonomics — the exact confusion the "pink it and shrink it" reflex relies on. To take this further I'd run grip-pressure and reach testing with a real, mixed sample and let the data redraw the geometry. Inclusive design isn't a colourway; it's asking who the default leaves out, and then doing the measuring.
Disclaimer. This is a student concept project. The Bosch name and visual identity were used solely as a design-language reference for an academic brief — this drill is not a real product and is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or connected to Bosch in any way.