On her latest single, “My Darling New York,” Ananya captures the strange, tender ache of returning to something that once defined you. Out November 7th, the track unfolds like a confessional letter—one addressed to a city that gave freedom with one hand and heartbreak with the other. New York becomes both muse and mirror, a place that shapes, challenges, and leaves its mark long after you’ve gone.
There’s a quiet cinematic pull to “My Darling New York,” one that lives in the space between nostalgia and healing. Ananya doesn’t romanticize the city blindly; instead, she leans into its contradictions. The Big Apple is portrayed as fragile yet fearless, overwhelming yet liberating—an emotional landscape where growth often arrives wrapped in loss. Revisiting it means confronting who you were, who you became, and who you had to leave behind.
Born and raised in Zimbabwe and now based in London, Ananya brings a global sensitivity to her songwriting—one rooted in displacement, identity, and longing. Staying true to the meaning of her name, unique, she continues to transform personal wounds into universally resonant stories. Her signature blend of indie-pop intimacy and wide-eyed nostalgia turns lived experience into something quietly powerful, inviting listeners to find themselves inside her memories.
That emotional precision has already earned Ananya widespread acclaim, with features from Rolling Stone Africa, Glamour, Earmilk, Billboard Magazine, Wonderland, and BBC. On “My Darling New York,” she refines what she does best: crafting bittersweet compositions that linger long after the final note fades.
Ultimately, the track is about the confusing beauty of returning—to a place, to a feeling, to a former version of yourself—and realizing that even if it once meant everything, it doesn’t have to anymore. In Ananya’s hands, New York isn’t just a city; it’s a chapter, a scar, and a quiet reminder that growth often comes from learning how to say goodbye.
“My Darling New York” is out November 7th.
“My Darling New York” feels like a letter to both a city and a former version of yourself. When did you first realize New York had become such a personal symbol for you?
New York became a personal symbol for me because it was the first place I lived without any family or built in support system. It’s such a big city and it took a lot to overcome the homesickness, but somehow New York held me and pushed me to become a stronger version of myself. I notice it most when I’m away, that it’s such a personal symbol. I’m always longing to be there.
You describe the track as a reflection on “highs, heartbreak, and the growth that follows.” What part of that cycle do you find yourself in right now — the remembering, or the healing?
I guess you could say the healing because I feel I’m holding onto memories gently rather than gripping them. But I also think healing doesn’t mean forgetting, it means being able to look back without breaking 💕
There’s something beautifully fragile about the way the song revisits nostalgia without romanticizing it. How do you find the balance between memory and honesty in your writing?
From letting myself feel everything exactly as it was no matter how uncomfortable. Nostalgia can be so tempting because it softens the edges, but I try not to let myself rewrite the past into something prettier than it was. I let the food memories be good, and the painful ones stay sharp. It’s always important for me to be truthful emotionally, so I make an effort not to disguise moments that shaped me.
New York has been written about endlessly — but your portrayal feels intimate, almost like the city itself is a person. What does “My Darling New York” say about your relationship with the places that have shaped you?
New York represents that first real leap into independence, so the way I write about it naturally becomes personal. It’s almost like writing to someone who saw me at my most vulnerable and my most brave. New York feels like a living witness who carried my highs, heartbreaks, loneliness and growth with me. New York pushed me, comforted me, challenged me. In the song it almost becomes a confidant, the place that understands parts of me I didn’t know how to articulate at the time. And I think that reflects how I approach most places or people that mark me. They become symbols of those chapters, and writing about them is my way of saying thank you, even for the hard bits.
You’ve lived between Zimbabwe, New York, and now London. How have those cultural and emotional landscapes influenced the textures of your music?
Home will forever give me a deep sense of my roots & resilience, while New York challenged me to grow, confront myself, and embrace independence. London is constantly inspiring me to hang myself up to dry and process any emotions that come my way.
Your songwriting often feels cinematic — wide yet vulnerable. What visuals or moments were you seeing in your mind when you wrote this track?
There are too many moments to count, but if all my years living in NYC could be bottled up, it would be that feeling. Exhilarating, overwhelming, full of growth, heartbreak and the relentless pulse of life moving forward.
You’ve been featured in Rolling Stone Africa, Billboard, and Wonderland, yet your music still feels deeply personal and unguarded. How do you protect that sense of intimacy as your platform grows?
I remind myself why I write music. Most of the time, it’s healing for me, like a page out of my journal. I also hope my music can be for someone what music has always been for me: a way to connect, to relate, to feel less alone. As long as I stay honest and genuine about my experiences and inspirations, I believe that sense of intimacy carries through.
The line between freedom and fragility runs through much of your work. Do you see vulnerability as a creative strength or something you’ve learned to live with?
A little bit of both. It’s taken a while, but I mostly see vulnerability as a creative strength. It’s what allows my music to feel honest and real, even when it’s uncomfortable. Over time, I’ve learned that leaning into those fragile moments doesn’t make me weaker because it makes my work, and me, more human.
If “My Darling New York” were a chapter in your life story, what would its title be?
The Most Important Years Of My Life
What do you hope listeners carry with them after hearing this song — especially those who’ve loved and lost their own “New York”?
Even in love, loss, or distance, there’s room for growth and resilience. I hope they feel that nostalgia can be painful and still beautiful, because the places and moments that shape us will always stay a part of who we are.
