My parents loved to travel, and they took me early. I was six when I visited Madurai, pressing my fingers into the crevices of the temple carvings – quietly I was hoping nobody had touched that exact spot. And, that there was a thread, unbroken, between the artisans hands and mine. I was eight, visiting the Taj Mahal. The main gate was shut for renovation. I entered from the side, head bowed, refusing to look until I was on central axis. When I finally raised my head – I felt nothing. Then I noticed something tiny moving at the monument's base, and realised those were people. I had goosebumps then, and as I type it – I have them now! The scale had hidden itself, and then it revealed everything.

When I think what got me into architecture, I always tend to go back to these two memories of my formative years. They were not realised in any manner back then. Let alone, I never had heard of ‘architecture’ as a profession that I can pursue.

Much later, when I was in 10th grade, my parents were building our home. That’s when I saw the architect’s drawings. I remember after coming back home that evening, and fishing out some old rough books – what we called “homework book” from the earlier years. The last pages of these books were filled with drawings of sections of ships, and people drawn in them – which now when I think of – probably represented the magnanimous scale of those ships. These sections, resonated with the section drawings made by our architect. I think that was the switch moment, when I felt deeply what I wanted to pursue.

I have been chasing that feeling ever since.

Today, as a practitioner and an academician, I work on projects as well as I get to engage with young students – learning with them. I feel that each day reveals something new that has always been innately with me since my formative years and my travel memories, and at the same time they’re something that I’m discovering for the first time.