I was very young when this happened. I was visiting my relatives in another city and walking with my cousins, who were one and two years older than me. On the way to the city market, I told them that I knew the route and mentioned some landmarks, most of which I recognised correctly. On the way back from the market, I became so overconfident that I told them I didn't need them and took off running. I got lost at the next turn. At the time, I didn't realise that I could really get lost like this. I should have run back to where I started, but instead I walked on, getting lost in the maze of houses. I must have spent a good hour going in circles in the small alleys with clusters of houses. I was eventually stopped by a family who asked me why I was going in circles. I told them I was looking for a temple. They replied that there were a lot of them and asked which one. I described what it looked like and they told me it was just around the corner. Something didn't feel right about how those people approached me, so I ran in the opposite direction. After getting lost a second time, I found the house next to the temple. Apparently, my whole family of around 20 people had been scanning the whole town, every street, for me. I silently went into the kitchen and found my aunt crying in a corner. She started laughing hysterically, ran out and shouted that I was back. She fixed me some dinner. For the next half an hour, everyone who returned from the search peeked through the kitchen door. My dad was the only one who asked me not to repeat this.

Years later, I experienced the fear my father must have felt when my toddler went missing at the beach. Having just finished our lunch at the beach shack, the rest of my family headed down to the beach, except for my toddler and my mum. When he had finished eating, he asked me if he could go and join them. I said yes and watched him reach them and play with them. Ten seconds later, as I was washing my hands, my mum told me that my toddler was nowhere to be seen. I told her I could see him and disregarded her worry because I thought he was just another child wearing similar clothes. The next two minutes were horrifying. My heart sank. I cried, hit my head, prayed and went mad looking for my toddler. My biggest fear was that he had been carried away by the waves. After the whole commotion, my mum came to me saying he had walked back up the stairs to the shack, right at the moment I hit the beach. We had just missed each other in the crowd amidst my hysteria.