Imagine you are as big as an elephant or even a whale. Describe your day.

 It’s a strange thing, to wake up and have your first conscious thought be about the space you occupy. This morning, it wasn't the alarm clock that roused me, but the feeling of my own shoulders pressing against the walls of my room. Not in a crushing, panicked way, but in a firm, undeniable way—like a great tree that has grown to fit the exact clearing it stands in. I am massive.

The first change was the light. My window, which usually frames a neat square of Bangalore sky, now feels like a porthole. The sun, a fierce orange ball climbing over the distant tech parks, felt close enough to warm the deep, weathered teak of my skin. My skin… that’s the second thing. In this form, it’s thick, resilient, like the hide of an elephant or the slate-grey, rubbery skin of a whale. The same complexion I’ve always had—the color of strong, sweet coffee—but amplified, textured by a life of immense scale. It feels less like a covering and more like a landscape, with valleys and ridges that catch the morning light.

My morning routine was an exercise in re-calibration. Brushing my teeth was out of the question, but the need for ablution remained. I stepped out into the small, enclosed courtyard of our family home. My parents were at the temple, and the street was quiet. I lowered my head—a head the size of a small car—under the water pump we use for the plants. The cold water was a shock, a torrent cascading over my skull and shoulders, not a mere trickle. It was a ritual, not of cleaning, but of connection. I could feel the water seeping into the very core of my being, hydrating a spirit that had always felt a little too large for its container.

As an engineer, my mind is wired to understand systems, forces, and structures. Today, I became the ultimate structure. Walking to the nearby lake, I was intensely aware of the physics of my movement. Each footfall was a deliberate, seismic event. I didn't walk on the earth; I engaged in a dialogue with it. The ground, a mixture of red soil and concrete, communicated back with a low, respectful rumble. I understood, in a way I never could through textbooks, the concepts of load distribution and ground pressure. I wasn't crushing the world; I was in a steady, balanced partnership with it.

The lake was my office today. Wading into the cool, murky water, I felt a different kind of freedom. The buoyancy! As a whale might feel in the deep ocean, I felt a sublime, weightless joy. My enormous body was cradled, supported. Small fishing boats puttered around me, and the fishermen, instead of being afraid, waved. They saw me not as a monster, but as a part of the landscape—a new, gentle hillock in their familiar waters. I felt a profound sense of belonging. This is what I’ve always wanted from my work and my life: not to dominate my environment, but to integrate with it seamlessly, to be a beneficial, natural part of the system.

In the afternoon, I simply watched. From my vantage point, my eyes high above the treetops, I could see the intricate tapestry of life. I saw the traffic snarls on the Outer Ring Road, a chaotic dance of tiny metal boxes. I saw children playing cricket in a vacant lot, their movements a blur of joyful energy. I saw the coconut trees, once tall and imposing, now swaying at my waist. The world, usually so immediate and demanding, was now a complex, beautiful diorama. The constant pressure to perform, to code, to optimize, to hustle… it all just melted away. From up here, it was just… life. Unfolding.

And that’s the satisfaction. It’s the same satisfaction I get from elegantly solving a complex problem or writing a beautiful piece of code, but amplified to a cosmic scale. It’s the freedom of moving in harmony with my own immense potential, unapologetically. It’s the happiness that comes not from acquiring, but from being. Being so fundamentally, undeniably me.

As the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of turmeric and chili powder, I sit at the edge of the lake, my feet submerged. The water is still, reflecting the fiery sky and my own dark, tranquil silhouette. I am a giant, yes. But for the first time, I don't feel like I'm taking up too much space. I feel like I am finally, exactly the space I was meant to be. The world feels big enough for me, and I feel just the right size for myself.