Waris Ahluwalia on Slowing Down and Soaking Up Fatherhood
Actor, designer, and humanitarian Waris Ahluwalia has long been known for telling stories through art, fashion, and film. But fatherhood has introduced him to a whole new kind of storytelling—one written in tender rituals, and awe-filled firsts. With his 15-month-old daughter Ocean, Waris is learning that parenting is less about perfection and more about presence. We caught up with Waris to hear how becoming a dad has reshaped his creative work, his daily rhythms, and his vision of legacy.
Your career has spanned design, film, advocacy, and more. How has becoming a dad added to your story?
Becoming a father feels less like adding a new chapter and more like discovering a whole new language—one made of quiet moments, tiny gestures, and boundless love. It’s shifted the way I see time, the way I hold space. I’ve always worked with intention, but now, every choice carries the weight and wonder of legacy. This by far is my greatest adventure.
Your life seems to be filled with beauty and intention. How has that influenced how you set up your home environment for your baby?
Beauty, for me, has never been about opulence—it’s about the energy of a space, the story objects tell, and the feeling they evoke. We’ve created a home that’s calm, sensory-rich, and full of handmade things. There’s music playing, textiles with history, and lots of plants. I want my child to grow up surrounded by beauty that breathes—that invites imagination and reverence.
What surprised you most about becoming a parent?
The sleep. Or rather, the complete and utter lack of it. People warn you, of course. They say "Get your sleep now!”—but nothing quite prepares you for the reality. It’s not just exhaustion; it’s a surreal, time-bending state that feels vaguely like a form of government-sanctioned sleep deprivation. I now understand why it’s used as a method of torture. But beneath the haze, there's this strange beauty—you’re holding a tiny, fussy miracle at 4am, whispering into the dark, and it feels sacred. Just very, very sleepy sacred.
How has your creative work shifted—if at all—since welcoming your little one?
I wouldn’t say it’s shifted so much as it’s come into sharper focus. I’ve always approached creativity with intention, but becoming a parent has heightened my awareness of just how finite time really is. Every hour now carries more weight, more meaning. You see time passing in front of your very eyes. I’m more deliberate—less interested in chasing everything, more drawn to what feels lasting. In many ways, I think I’ve been working toward this moment all along: creating with care, with clarity, and with the quiet understanding that what we build today shapes the world our children inherit.
What values or traditions from your own upbringing are you excited to pass on?
Kindness. Reverence. The art of listening. Growing up in a Sikh household, I learned the power of seva—selfless service—and the importance of community. I want my child to feel rooted in something bigger than themselves, to honor where they come from, and to move through the world with compassion and curiosity. And the tradition of being a New Yorker.
How did you discover SNOO and how would you sum up your experience?
A friend shared their experience with a SNOO and how it helped them with sleep time. To be honest, at first, we weren't sure about the white noise. There's so much information online that it's hard as a parent to make much sense of it. We checked with our pediatrician, and they gave us the green light. In the end, it was very useful partner in our sleep journey.
What was your favorite SNOO feature—or the one thing that made the biggest difference for your family?
Firstly, we love the simplicity of the design. It feels like what an infant should be sleeping in. The gentle swaying is such a comforting feature. We kept it on the lowest setting and found that to be enough of a movement to lull our little one to sleep.
You’ve spoken in the past about the importance of slowing down. Has this mindful approach played a part in parenting?
Absolutely. Parenting, at its best, is the ultimate practice in presence. Slowing down isn’t just a luxury—it’s how you catch the glimmers, the first smile, the shifting light on a quiet afternoon. It’s how you teach your child to savor, not just consume. Mindfulness isn’t separate from parenting—it’s at the heart of it.
What’s a moment with your baby that stopped you in your tracks—one of those “I’ll never forget this” memories?
Every second with her is one of those moments. The expressions. Her awareness of the world around her. The crawling turning to walking. The noises turning to words.
One evening, she may have been 4 or 5 months old. She had just woken and I picked her up. She held onto me and in that moment, I felt us traveling through space and time. Once before, something similar has happened to me when I did a sound healing. Moving through the cosmos through light. With her in my arms, we were floating in the universe.