Children were growing up in beautifully designed homes but emotionally lost. Parents had every resource except the language to talk about feelings. Teenagers navigated identity crises in silent isolation – in bedrooms I had designed, in homes that looked perfect from the outside.

The spaces people needed most – the emotional, developmental, psychological ones – weren’t being created anywhere.

So I stopped designing rooms and started creating spaces for people to remember themselves.

That shift led me to developmental psychology, expressive movement therapy, and disciplines that understand what I always knew as a designer: the body knows what the mind forgets.

Emotions don’t just live in thoughts. They live in the tightness of your chest when you’re anxious, the knot in your stomach when you’re scared, the opening in your shoulders when you finally feel safe.

The Himalayan trek with my daughter Aarya became the catalyst. Watching her ask questions schools never do – “Why does my stomach feel tight when I think about school?” – made me realize: someone needs to create spaces where those questions are answered.

I’m not a therapist. I don’t diagnose or fix. I’m a facilitator – someone who creates conditions for children and families to do their own discovering.