When I was about Chini’s age, I occasionally questioned life itself- why was I here? How did we get here? Was there something beyond? It wasn’t at all a scientific or religious or supernatural question. It was simply being hyper-aware of your physical body and projecting your mind outward out of it, if that makes sense.

And I sort of succeeded, like an out of body experience but I was awake. I was able to untether myself- maybe it was disassociation? But whatever it was, it felt weird because nothing really happened, but something did happen. The feeling I got was an immense, but comforting sadness. I didn't get any answers, but I felt it- knew innately, that even as it was out of reach or sight, it was out there.

As I got older, I’ve tried to do it again but couldn't .

Ironically, my own mind is in the way. Imagine standing in front of a thick forest and the shortest way is straight through it, but I always resist. My mind is telling me that there are other ways, other routes. And I believe it.

My legs feel heavy, or I think they are. Or that I have a headache, except that I never really get headaches.

I spend weekends thinking that the greatest barriers to my life are my mountains of unorganised clothes or shoes; or that I need more of them to conquer challenges and fulfil aspirations (dressed in style of course); or that an epiphany is one amazing dish away, the flavour of which is the trigger; or that cleanliness and efficiency- vacuuming done in 30 and laundry in one- puts you next to godliness, because how can one be infallible and all-seeing when you’re mired in clutter?

I know- I’ve lost it.