मेरा ट्रेन के गंदे टॉयलेट को अनदेखा न करने में,

और सही से साफ़ करके आने में,

चाहे मुझे कितना भी ख़राब क्यों ना मिला हो ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

लाइन में तरीक़े से खड़े रहने में,

और जो काटें उन पर ना चिल्लाने में,

चाहे कितना ही पीछे क्यों ना हो जाऊँ, इस ज़माने में ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

सड़क पे कूड़ा ना फैलाने में,

और जो हो अपना कचरा, उसे जेब में रख घर ले आने में,

चाहे पूरी सड़क ही भरी क्यों ना हो गंदगी के हर पैमाने में ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

लाल बत्ती पे रुक जाने में, फालतू हॉर्न ना बजाने में,

सीट बेल्ट लगाने में और संभल कर गाड़ी चलाने में

चाहे दुनिया लगी हो उन्ही नियमों की धज्जियाँ उड़ाने में ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

पब्लिक प्लेस में स्पीकर पे न्यूज़ और रील्स ना चलाने में,

या चिल्ला-चिल्ला के आपस में या फ़ोन पे ना बतियाने में,

चाहे लोग लगें हो इसी को सामाजिक ताना-बाना बताने में ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

अपना काम पूरी ईमानदारी से कर जाने में,

रिश्वत ना खिलाने में और घटिया जुगाड़ ना लगाने में,

चाहे लोग इस्तेमाल करें उसका, तुमसे आगे बढ़ जाने में ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

किसी को छोटा ना दिखाने में,

सबको अपने बराबर और अपने जैसा मानने में,

चाहे कुछ लोग नकार दे तुम्हें अपने साथ बिठाने में ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

ज़िन्दगी के सवालों में फँसे हुए को उठाने में,

भूखे को खिलाने में, मेहनती को टिप देकर आने में,

चाहे जितनी भी मेहनत लगी हो तुम्हें वो पैसा कमाने में ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

दुनिया के लिये नक़ली तस्वीरे ना लगाने में,

मतलब के लिए दोस्त और ज़रूरत के लिए रिश्ते ना बनाने में,

चाहे कितने ही अकेले क्यों ना लगो, तुम इस भीड़ भरे ज़माने में ।

.

क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है ?

ख़ुद को जानने और कुछ उसूलों को मानने में,

ख़ुद की कहानी ख़ुद से ही लिखने और सुनाने में,

चाहे दुनिया लगी हो, तुम्हें अपने हिसाब से कुछ और ही बनाने में ।

When I looked back at my journey so far, I didn’t feel the urge to celebrate or summarise. What I felt instead was a quiet assurance: I’ve come a long way. Not in the way success is usually measured, but in the way clarity settles.

At this point in life, I wanted to write down what I know about myself; not to explain who I am, but to acknowledge what I’ve learned and, more importantly, what I’ve let go of.

As time passes, wisdom doesn’t arrive as certainty. It arrives as calmness. As patience. As a reduced appetite for chaos. Slowly, peace begins to feel less like an aspiration and more like an end goal.

When I look back, life feels like a continuous pursuit of truth. What I believed to be “truth” kept changing with time. There were phases when I was seeking truth about God, then about myself.

Today, I can say with some confidence that I have a clearer sense of self, a more refined purpose, and a better understanding of what I truly want from life.

In a web series “Kota Factory” there was a line that stayed with me:

“If you don’t know what you want in life, at least start figuring out what you don’t want.”

That sentence describes my life more accurately than any grand philosophy. My journey hasn’t been about accumulation. It’s been about elimination.

Elimination of expectations, constructs, ambitions, and identities that didn’t belong to me.

Freedom Came Early

I was exposed to money early in life. At the age of nine, I started sitting at our shop. From that point onward, I never asked my parents for money not because I was exceptional, but because responsibility arrived early.

Despite growing up in a humble household, I never felt scarcity. Whatever I needed, I earned. That created something far more valuable than financial comfort: freedom.

Freedom from dependence.

Freedom from fear.

Freedom to choose.

This also built an independent spirit inside me.

During college, I did multiple internships, MLM marketing, and various jobs to support myself. That early independence quietly shaped how I think and live even today.

Equality as a Default State

The shop was my first real classroom.

People from every walk of life came there; teachers, officers, rich customers, transporters, and labourers from different states using the PCO to call home. Everyone spoke to me like an adult. Somewhere along the way, I began seeing myself as equal to them.

That equality worked both ways. I listened; sometimes for hours to stories of struggle, migration, and hardship. That taught me empathy without pity and confidence without arrogance. This kept my curiosity alive as I never shied away from anything.

This curiosity naturally drew me toward people, their stories, and the cultures they live in. I rarely take photographs when I travel. Instead, I explore food, conversations, and everyday life, trying to absorb a city rather than document it.

Once, during a trek, someone remarked, “So you travel purely for the joy of travelling—nothing else.”

That stayed with me. I realised it was true. I travel today for the same reason I once listened to people in a small shop; to understand lives, stories, and the worlds they come from.

That foundation carried into the business world as well.

I speak to everyone with the same confidence and respect, regardless of their wealth or knowledge. In my head, I sit across the table as an equal. If someone has wealth, I bring value. If someone has knowledge, I bring curiosity.

There is no inferiority or superiority; only exchange.

This mental neutrality removes self-doubt and ego at the same time. It keeps energy flowing and creates better outcomes.

Business Was Never Just Business

Long before I knew strategy frameworks or business jargon, I learned fundamentals instinctively.

I learned the value of relationships why the same customers returned to our shop even when alternatives existed. I learned that empathy turns customers into friends, and sales becomes a natural by-product of trust. I learned that market dynamics matter more than ego.

For instance, tea shops bought milk from us even though another vendor sold it cheaper because that vendor also sold tea and would hurt their business.

Years later, the same instinct guided one of my companies to sell only software and avoid any activity that could damage our customers’ outcomes.

Even today, we command a premium. Customers still choose us—not because we’re cheaper, but because we’re aligned.

I never fought price wars. I never poached customers. I learned early that if someone isn’t loyal to their current vendor, they won’t be loyal to you either. Every customer we gained came voluntarily even in niche markets.

Many of my strengths today are simply echoes of early lessons.

Curiosity, Learning, and Self-Reliance

I’ve always been curious. It began with reading newspapers at the shop initially as timepass. That curiosity expanded into geopolitics, local politics, storytelling, and opinions.

More importantly, I learned to be self-reliant early; to solve problems, take decisions, and move on without waiting for validation. That habit has stayed with me longer than any technical skill.

Many people describe my lack of need for validation as an advantage today.

When I reflect on it, it feels less like an advantage and more like a habit formed early in life;

when validation wasn’t readily available and self-reliance quietly became the default.

What I Didn’t Become

Life also teaches you what you are not.

I couldn’t play sports growing up, so group sports or team work feels unnatural to me. I gravitate toward individual pursuits; swimming, running, trekking alone.

I couldn’t spend time in festivities, fairs or celebratory events like birthdays or new years. Usually I spend these days like any other day now.

I couldn’t invest much time in friendships, so I don’t have many now.

I didn’t attend many parties or spend long vacations with relatives. Even when I did, there was always a quiet anxiety about responsibility and survival. I am happy, that I have stopped engaging in these events, parties or get-togethers in the pretence of social acceptance.

I’ve seen too many broken and pretentious relationships to romanticize social templates. I’ve tried fitting into them but it felt dishonest.

Pretence drains me. Solitude restores me.

I’ve learned to respect that truth about myself.

How I see work today…

I’ve been working for nearly twenty-five years now. Over time, work stopped feeling like effort and began to feel like practice. Even on holidays, if I don’t spend a few hours engaged—learning, reflecting, refining—the day feels unsettled. If I’m not at a desk, my mind is still quietly observing, connecting, resolving. What I call work today is really a form of sadhana. It has shaped my ethics, my character, and my sense of responsibility. Business isn’t something I step away from; it’s an expression of how I move through the world.

I remember something Jagjit Singh (ghazal singer) once said, which I heard on TV when I was very young. If he didn’t practice for a month, the audience would know. If he didn’t practice for a week, his spouse would know. And if he didn’t practice for a day, he himself would know that his voice was slipping. That awareness is why he practiced every single day.

I’ve come to see work and learning, in the same way. Not as pressure, but as upkeep. Not for applause, but for inner alignment.

When you live close to your nature, you can sense even the smallest drift. And once you know that difference, discipline no longer needs force you return to the practice on your own.

Spirituality, Business, and Travel

Three forces anchor my life.

Spirituality is my compass. It helps me make sense of life whether the waters are calm or turbulent.

Maps & directions take an individual to places known to mankind, but spiritual compass leads towards path not taken, without an iota of fear of unknown.

Business is my purpose. It gives my days direction and allows me to add value to people’s lives, even when those relationships aren’t personal in the usual sense.

When your why extends beyond self-interest and begins to serve something larger, work stops being something you do and becomes something you inhabit.

As Friedrich Nietzsche observed:

He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.

Travel is my joy. Not escape but reward. I don’t chase photographs or memories. I absorb places fully: new countries, familiar cities, industrial zones, factories, be it early mornings in Mahabalipuram or quiet nights in Chennai.

If you can experience life whenever you want, you don’t need to preserve it. Memories have no purpose if you can have freedom of experiences.

These are my only priorities in life and I’m glad to fulfil these in best way possible.

Control: The Road Ahead

This doesn’t mean life has been easy. I’ve had my share of challenges.

Which brings me back to a movie, All India Rank, and one line that stayed with me

All one needs in life is control.

As I step into the next phase of my life, I’m not chasing more; I’m refining less.

Control is the missing piece.

That is what will take me from a rookie startup founder to a seasoned businessman. From instinct to mastery. From motion to direction.

Control, for me, doesn’t mean rigidity. It means emotional steadiness, disciplined execution, and the ability to act without inner friction.

If earlier years were about learning and survival, the coming years ahead are about governance; of time, energy, attention, and intent.

I don’t know exactly where this road leads.

But I know how I want to walk it.

Slowly. Deliberately. On my own terms.

This isn’t a conclusion.

It’s simply the point where the noise has reduced enough for me to hear myself clearly.

And for now, that feels like enough.

When I was a boy in a small village, I didn’t have much, but I had rhythm.

My days were stitched together by the hum of a shop, the smell of dust, the laughter of people who came and went with the sun.

I studied in government schools, helped at the family stall in melas, sold prasad outside temples, and learned how to observe the world quietly; how to remember faces, voices, and gestures like photographs in the mind.

People often say it must have been a hard childhood, but I never saw it that way.

I saw men who worked with dignity, women who survived with grace, and strangers who spoke to me like an equal.

That simple and uncertain life taught me how to absorb, how to endure, and how to stay human.

It was not suffering. It was education.

By the time I finished college, I had already been working for more than half my life.

I did whatever kept me afloat and I did multi-level marketing, freelance web development, IOT projects, internships.

I worked morning to night and through weekends, and by twenty-five I had cleared the debts that once defined my limits.

I quit my job, made decent money and bought basic luxuries of life for myself and family. On paper, I had made it out.

But somewhere between the exhaustion and the applause, I realised I didn’t know where I was going anymore.

I had spent so many years running toward stability that I didn’t know how to stand still once I reached it.

The emptiness was new; quiet, clean, and terrifying.

That was the first time I met meaning not as a word, but as a wound.

I went on to study psychology, searching for sense — in people, in pain, in the invisible stories that make us who we are.

I learned to listen deeply. I helped others heal.

And through that, I began to understand that perhaps the only way to survive life is to serve it.

That realisation became the seed for dsrp & Co.

I wanted to build something larger than myself, something that could make the act of working itself sacred.

I poured everything I had into it, be it my savings, my mutual funds, my safety nets, my sleep. When that wasn’t enough, I borrowed.

I convinced people to believe in my vision even when I was barely surviving it myself.

And yet, despite all of this and despite doing what felt right, staying ethical in an industry where shortcuts are currency, despite showing up every single day; there are still mornings when I wake up wondering: why does the universe stay silent?

I don’t expect rewards. I don’t expect applause.

But sometimes, all you want is a sign that your intent counts for something, that the invisible good you do quietly is not forgotten in the noise.

You see others who take the easier path, who trade integrity for opportunity, and the world seems to open for them as if virtue was a burden they were wise enough to drop.

And you start asking questions you never thought you’d ask:

• Does it really matter who you are as a person?

• Does the universe truly notice the ones who choose the harder right over the easier wrong?

• Or is life just randomness dressed in poetry?

When a mother keeps caring, nobody notices until she stops.

When a father keeps providing, nobody thanks him until he can’t.

When a nurse keeps showing up the room feels ordinary, until one day it doesn’t.

That’s how the world measures goodness — by its absence.

And maybe that’s why people keep going, even when no one’s watching.

I don’t have a conclusion to this story. Maybe there isn’t one.

Maybe this is just how life tests those who are meant to build; by giving them silence instead of signs and questions instead of answers.

And if you’re reading this and something in these words feels like your own silence then that is the only answer I have at this moment.

If I told you that no matter what path you choose in life, you’ll receive an equal share of suffering; would that convince you to choose a path with a higher purpose ?

Below is my understanding of why we must go beyond comfort and chase a higher purpose if we want our lives to mean something.

The Early Scripts of Comfort

Since my major was Counseling during my Master’s in Psychology, I’ve spent years counseling people in different phases of life.

Across those conversations, I started noticing two recurring mental scripts that quietly trap people in cycles of comfort and stagnation.

Script One: The Stagnant Idealist

These are people who either inherited enough or over time earned enough to lose motivation. They tell themselves they’re “flowing with life,” when in reality, they’re stagnant like a puddle of still water breeding mosquitoes.

The irony is that, in their stagnancy, there’s still some movement; like mosquitoes buzzing above the water or pigs rolling in the mud. On the surface, there’s life and noise. They wear crisp shirts, drive shiny cars, go to offices, and return home every evening. From the outside, it all looks functional or even successful. But inside, nothing moves. They’ve mistaken motion for progress.

They play the role of their ideal self before others, but deep down they know they’ve stopped growing. They’ve become experts at rationalising & convincing themselves that peace is freedom, while it’s actually decay.

Script Two: The Escaping Achiever

The other script is more subtle. These are people who are skilled, passionate, and motivated, but the moment hardships appear, they imagine an easier future. They picture a safe space beyond struggle.

But that future never satisfies. It’s the classic illusion of the grass being greener on the other side. Once you reach that imagined comfort, the absence of hardship becomes the absence of meaning.

It’s a worse state than stagnation because at least stagnant water affects something; mosquitoes breed there, pigs roll in it. But this comfort turns a person into a rock —unmoving, unfeeling, lifeless over a long period of time.

Hardships are part of life, hence we shouldn’t resort to our happy safe space on the visibility of hardship. As Ratan Tata once said,

“Ups and downs in life are very important to keep us going, because a straight line even in an ECG means we are not alive.”

I was also living this script with my safe spaced version of “buffalo farm” & retirement in late 20s.

The Comfortable Dream I’m Glad I Lost

When I was 20, I had loans of around ₹5 lakhs; part education, part survival. I’d already done several internships, yet my dream then was simple: clear the loans, buy 20–30 buffaloes in my hometown in Himachal, hire a few people for upkeep, and live peacefully while chilling & smoking weed every now and then.

The land was already there, so were the fields for grazing, the shelter, even the marijuana plants. I’d mapped it all out - a small, self-sustained, comfortable life. Looking back now, I’m grateful that dream never came true.

The Relativity of Purpose

If I’d stayed in the village forever, running that buffalo farm might’ve been meaningful but to do it after evolving intellectually and emotionally would’ve been regression.

If Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam had settled for teaching in Rameshwaram after his early rejections, India might never have known the Missile Man who shaped our nuclear program. We might have missed a Bharat Ratna laureate, the only one to receive it even before becoming President.

Kalam faced repeated failures, returned home heartbroken, and could have easily chosen a simple, respectable life of teaching. But he didn’t. He kept searching for a doorway until he met Dr. Vikram Sarabhai, who saw his spark and gave him that opportunity. That single decision to persist through suffering instead of settling for safety altered not only his destiny but the destiny of India itself.

After Zip2, Elon Musk could have retired early. Instead, he built PayPal, then Tesla, pushing the world toward sustainable mobility and later SpaceX, taking on space exploration, a domain still barely open to private entities. His rockets exploded, his companies nearly collapsed, yet he never chose comfort. For him, hardship was the compass of purpose.

And sometimes purpose doesn’t just build rockets, it carries a hammer and chisel.

Dashrath Manjhi, the Mountain Man of Bihar, spent 22 years carving a 110 m road through a mountain after losing his wife. He did it alone, with bare hands and bleeding palms, so that no one else in his village would die waiting for help.

He didn’t do it for fame or money. He did it so that no one else would suffer as he did. Every strike of that chisel was an act of purpose born out of pain.

That is what choosing meaning over misery looks like; transforming pain into progress.

The Journey from Dukh to Kaivalya

When I first read सांख्य दर्शन / Sankhya Darshan (one of the nine philosophies of Vedic or sanatan dharma), one line stayed with me. It said that the path of life is to move from Samsara (Dukh) toward Kaivalya.

In simple terms, it means that life is a journey from suffering toward awareness beyond attachment — a higher state of being where we act without being enslaved by outcomes.

To me, this line has always been deeply spiritual, perhaps one of the most powerful truths I’ve come across. I’m loosely interpreting it here so that it fits the context of this piece.

The essence, however, remains the same.

The purpose of life is not to escape pain but to evolve through it; to use it as the bridge from Dukh to Kaivalya. Because pain will exist no matter which path you choose — Samsara itself, by its very definition, is suffering.

The Larger Path

Whether it’s Jamshedji Tata building industries, Martin Luther King Jr. fighting for equality, Ambedkar breaking caste barriers, Bhagat Singh offering his life at 21, or a nameless artist chiseling temple walls; each chose a path full of hardship and meaning.

Even our spiritual icons Jesus, Moses, Krishna, Buddha, Mahavir, and the Sikh Gurus always walked through fire, not around it.

My Learnings

I’m writing this on an ordinary working day, one where I could have easily chosen to focus on tasks, calls, and meetings.

But instead, I chose to write this because I felt an urge to explain why it’s so important to choose purpose and fulfillment over ease and comfort.

I don’t even know if the person who triggered this reflection will ever truly understand it; maybe not today, maybe not for years. Understanding comes only when one is ready.

But still, I wrote. Because choosing the harder, meaningful thing always creates a ripple somewhere. Maybe this will reach someone who needs to read it, someone on the verge of giving up, and it might push them to take their first plunge toward their true potential.

It took me around six hours to write this, and yet, it feels like the right choice.

Because choosing the hard and right thing, no matter how small, always aligns you with something larger than yourself.

So here are my learnings:

• Hardships and suffering give life meaning & anyways we can’t avoid them.

• Choose hardships that serve a higher purpose, beyond material gain.

• When you already have wealth or comfort, let purpose keep you awake.

• Avoid stagnancy as it breeds ego, indulgence, or decay.

• Life constantly changes, now whether it’s positive or a negative change; it depends on your actions and how you perceive a situation.

• and always ask: am I living at my full potential or hiding behind comfort?

In the end, we are all walking toward the same destination — death — through one form of hardship or another.

Since suffering is inevitable, choose the one that expands you.

Because when you strive toward something greater than yourself, the universe or God, or whatever sails your boat; that force begins to move through you.

Whenever a human being breaks away from the automated path and dares to live at their fullest potential, that divine energy chooses to experience the material world through them.

I used to say heartbreak hurts.

But that year, in March 2015 I coined a new word for myself: headbreak.

The Fall

In my head, it felt as if someone had reached into my chest, pulled out my soul with bare hands, and walked away. I was left watching my own body from a distance, waiting for last rites.

I kept vodka miniatures by the bed. They were easier than friends. Easier than talking. One sip and the noise dulled for a while. I stuffed myself with food just to slip into sleep from the heaviness. Some days I slept with the TV and lights on, pretending the room wasn’t empty.

Phone calls went unanswered. Flatmates turned strangers. My life shrank to a bed, a ceiling fan, and the racing of my mind.

The Dream

How did I land here?

I was a 2013 graduate from a tier-3 engineering college. But from my second year onwards, I hustled. nonstop internships, three years of real work alongside my degree. By graduation, I had experience, but on paper HR saw only “fresher.”

That mismatch haunted me. Again and again, I cleared technical rounds, only to be rejected in HR.

Finally, a break.

Some endings bury you, others plant you.

I learned the difference only in hindsight.

A major service-based MNC had been trying to hire for six months. They wanted a three-year veteran. I told the project manager the truth in final round about my journey, my rejections, my hunger. He believed me. Approved HR to let go of “on job experience” requirement and I got the job.

Eighteen months later, I found myself sitting across from Ivy-league engineers at the world’s #1 medical devices company. Nine interview rounds. My first flight. A 310% salary hike. A chance to work on dialysis technology that could save lives.

Walking through their R&D lab felt surreal, like a kid from a small town who had snuck into someone else’s future.

I resigned from my current job the same day. My mind was already planning the next decade.

And then I lost it all.

The Mistake

HR asked for a drug test. Panic. Delay. Dodge. Three days later, I confessed. The offer was revoked.

People said: It’s just a job. But to me, it felt like this:

The Numbness

For four months it consumed me. Morning to night, night to morning. There was no method, no healing ritual — just time dragging forward.

Slowly, the darkness thinned. A laugh. A lighter day. The sadness kept returning, but weaker each time, until one day I realized it no longer haunted me.

What feels like the end is often just life teaching you where to begin again.

The Path Forward

Looking back a decade later, I see how that collapse shaped me.

• In 2016, I quit to freelance on products I believed in.

• In November that year, I started my first proprietorship.

• By 2017, I had a private limited company.

• Over the years, I built multiple products, teams, and companies I never even dreamed of.

If I had joined that R&D team in Bangalore, I doubt I’d be here. Losing that job which was my worst nightmare at that time, turned out to be the first domino.

Looking Back

I don’t ask “why me?” anymore. When something bad happens, the answer isn’t visible in the moment. The pain narrows your vision until all you can see is loss.

But life has a longer view.

The reason we suffer isn’t always clear. But often, when you look back years later, you see how the detour was the path.

Some losses are redirections in disguise.

Today, when things go wrong, I don’t fight the universe with questions. I cry if I need to. I grieve. But I also keep faith that life knows something I don’t.

Now that I’ve lived through many losses that once convinced me that everything was over and I now know it was all the beginning to something bigger and context was always larger than what I could imagine at that time.

What I Learned

• Pain is temporary, even when it feels endless.

• Loss may look like destruction, but it can also be redirection.

• Don’t measure life by the moment of suffering but wait for the longer view.

I call it life’s curriculum: you don’t understand the class while you’re in it. The meaning only appears in the exam years later.

And that’s why I stopped asking why me.

“Ignorance is bliss.”

It meant nothing to me for the longest time.

Just another quote. Another cliché. Another thing wise people said.

But now, slightly older, perhaps a bit wiser, and definitely a thinker; I’ve begun to feel its weight. Not just its wisdom, but the darker shadow behind it.

Walking Down the Memory Lane

There was a time I lived life on autopilot.

I was that guy.

The one who said yes to drinks, smoking, to staying up all night, driving 150 KMph to doing stupid things without blinking.

The one who believed in the “right” belief, the “right” politics, and the “right” way of living; as passed down by elders, mentors, unquestioned traditions and unsaid rules of the Society.

I didn’t really care what I wanted. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t know I could.

I was ignorant.

And back then, it wasn’t even a bad thing.

Then Something Shifted

Somewhere along the way, I don’t even know how; things began to change.

I started observing the world. Society. Religion. Human behavior.

I stumbled upon words like perspective, bias, identity, conditioning, conflict.

I started studying geopolitics. Philosophy. Culture. Psychology. Interfaith dialogue. Colonialism. War.

I met people from different countries, regions, beliefs, faiths and backgrounds.

Suddenly, the world wasn’t a script I was blindly performing in.

It was a layered, conflicting, confusing drama and I started seeing too much of it.

And how It All Came Crashing Down

For first 25 years of my life, I was a background character in my own story.

Life happened to me, and I let it.

But now, this new self; armed with information and introspection — couldn’t unsee what it had seen.

I started questioning my beliefs. My role. My very identity.

And the more I read, the more I thought… the more confused I became.

I wasn’t ignorant anymore.

But now, I also didn’t know what I actually wanted.

That’s the paradox, isn’t it?

An ignorant man may fight and die for a cause without flinching.

He’ll burn with certainty.

He won’t question, hesitate, or collapse.

Sometimes, I envy that.

Because when you start seeing all the sides of everything, your convictions start to blur.

And with that — so does your peace.

So… What Now?

If you came to this blog hoping for answers — a final piece of the life puzzle, then I’m sorry.

Because you’re not ignorant either.

You’re here. Reading. Thinking. Feeling.

Trying to understand something about yourself or the world.

Meanwhile, the truly ignorant are asleep; snoring peacefully after a long day of trolling strangers online, screaming into echo chambers, pushing their opinions and defending their inherited beliefs.

They don’t lie awake wondering about meaning.

They don’t ache for clarity.

We do.

Somewhere Between Emerson and Exhausion

Yes ! I think deeply about life now.

I think about purpose, values, vision, and legacy.

I want to impact humanity — like Ralph Waldo Emerson or JRD Tata; And like few others I admire.

I want to add value to others’ lives, as many have added to mine.

But there’s another side to this.

Sometimes, I feel mentally exhausted.

Emotionally spent.

Like my heart and head are both drained by these endless “bigger deeds” I chase in an insignificant world.

And in those moments when nothing makes sense and everything feels heavy —

I finally understand what that phrase means: “Ignorance is bliss.”

And maybe, just for a fleeting second… I wish I could go back. But I really don’t want to and honestly I can’t as well.

A Poetic Ending to this philosophical dilemma where “To be” is the only Choice.

I see the world now, messy and wide,

No longer shielded by the simpler side.

Yet some days I miss that peaceful abyss—

And truly understand… ignorance is bliss.

Hence, I conclude that

“The cost of knowing is the comfort of not needing to.”

Incident One: The Call Home

Me (on phone): I’ve decided to quit my job and do something on my own.

Dad: You shouldn’t quit a job, it gives you a stable income.

[He hands the phone to my mom.]

Mom: What happened? Why do you want to quit? Is everything okay?

Me: Yes, everything’s fine. I just don’t feel like working for anyone anymore.

Mom: That’s okay, but… you just cleared your education loan. We also need to finish construction work at home. Finally our worst days are ending. This job pays you well. I think you should think about family.

Long silence.

Mom (softly changing the subject): Anyway, what will you have for dinner?

Incident Two: The Relationship Question

GF (on phone): Are you really leaving your job altogether? How will you pay your expenses? How will you support your family?

Me: I don’t know yet, but I don’t see any other option.

GF: You already run out of money every month. Your credit cards are maxed. How will you manage without a salary?

Me: I’ll figure it out, but I want to do this.

GF: I don’t know… how are we supposed to grow our relationship amidst this chaos?

Why These Stories Matter ?

Looking back many years later, I realised something important: none of their responses were about my abilities or potential.

My parents and girlfriend weren’t judging me. They were speaking from their own experiences, fears, and responsibilities.

Reflection on Incident One

My father had quit his job in the 90s to start a shop. It failed, wiping out his savings and forcing him into a low-paying job role. He never recovered financially. My mother endured that hardship alongside him.

So when I talked about quitting, they weren’t doubting me; they were projecting their own scars. They were trying to protect me from repeating their pain.

Reflection on Incident Two

My girlfriend wasn’t dismissing my dream either. She knew my monthly struggles, the credit card debt, the late nights. Her fears weren’t about my capability, they were about our stability as a couple.

She was being protective in her own way, imagining a future together that felt increasingly uncertain.

What I Learned About Seeking Advice

When we ask loved ones for guidance on life-changing decisions, we rarely get objective counsel.

• They speak through the lens of their own experiences and regrets.

• They don’t always know our skills, resilience, or vision.

• Most times, their advice carries a bias, especially if the decision affects them directly or indirectly.

Their intentions are protective, not limiting. But if we confuse their protection for objective truth, we risk giving up our path before even trying.

My Decision Framework

When I chose to quit despite their concerns, it boiled down to three questions:

1. If I don’t do this now, will I regret it forever?

2. If I don’t do this, will I slowly blame them for my unhappiness?

3. What’s the worst that could happen? Even if I failed, I could always find another job.

With that clarity, I took the leap.

The Message

Loved ones are meant to advise, not decide.

Their guidance is valuable—but it must be filtered.

The real test is whether you can separate their beliefs from your own convictions.

Advice should inform you, not imprison you.

Because at the end of the day: only you know your true potential.

And when you choose for yourself, you also remove the possibility of lifelong regret or blame.

Why This Story Matters to Me

People often ask how entrepreneurship began in my life. For me, it started in this exact moment—the first time I believed in myself despite everyone I loved saying don’t do it.

For a long time, I wondered why my closest people didn’t see my vision. Now I understand: they weren’t doubting me. They were protecting me from pain they had already lived.

But some journeys can’t be protected. They have to be walked.

✨ Takeaway Quote:

Loved ones advise through their scars. Your future is built through your choices.

“Follow your passion” sounds great, until you realise that passion doesn’t pay the bills, teach you grit, or build a meaningful life.

This is a story of how I planted the seeds of a career, a company, and a life I love — without ever “finding” my passion.

The Problem with Passion

When life feels uncertain, the world offers a single word as a solution: passion.

We hear it everywhere; WhatsApp forwards, social media reels, influencer speeches: “Go find your passion!”

It’s become a universal prescription. In this narrative, passion means something glamorous like photography, travel, or content creation. And the “9-to-5” job? That’s painted as lifeless and dull.

But I’m here to tell you this: I never went looking for passion.

And I’m still incredibly fulfilled with how life turned out.

An Unremarkable Beginning (That Turned Out Remarkable)

I didn’t choose my school, my parents did. It was the only reputed one nearby. Every day involved a long commute on winding Himalayan roads and in morning prayers I was reciting Sanskrit shlokas. Later, I shifted to a government school close to home and it came with no rules, no teachers, and yes, poker during lunch breaks.

I didn’t care about studies. I appeared for engineering entrance exams without preparation and, unsurprisingly, scored poorly. I ended up in a tier-3 engineering college because there was nowhere else to go.

I didn’t choose my stream either. A cousin said “go for electronics,” and I did. I wasn’t driven by dreams or clarity. I was just moving forward, one step at a time.

The Accidental Spark

In my second year, I joined a training institute in Chandigarh along with my classmates. Around the same time, I went through a breakup with my then-girlfriend. To avoid awkwardness, I moved to Noida for another training program.

There, I wrote my first program, one that made an LED blink based on a switch press. It was a simple embedded systems task, but something clicked.

I wrote code. The hardware responded. I had control. I was building something real.

It felt like magic.

That moment was my first spark; not a grand passion, but a quiet ignition. I decided: This is what I want to do.

Driven, Not Passionate

From that day on, I did whatever it took to get better. I offered to cold-call for a company in exchange for training hours. I freelanced. I skipped semesters to work. I learned nonstop.

After college, I didn’t care about high-paying jobs or job security. My peers chased BPOs and public-sector jobs for higher pay. I chose a ₹5,000/month trainee job because it let me work on core IoT systems.

I didn’t chase money.

I chased mastery.

From Engineer to Entrepreneur

By 2016, I started freelancing full time. One hire led to another, and soon, I had a team. We worked out of a 4BHK apartment. My friend Vishal’s marriage was called off because his in-laws didn’t want their daughter marrying someone “working from a house.”

That hurt.

So I registered a company & we moved into an office. I learned how to lead. I made mistakes. I worked 14–16 hour days. I wrote code. I ran meetings. I met deadlines.

I didn’t sleep for two days at many times. But it didn’t matter. I was building.

When Your Passion Evolves

In 2017, I stepped away from coding and started scaling the company. One day, a prospect asked for a business presentation. We were a 20+ engineer team but had zero marketers. So, I did the presentation myself—on a 21-inch screen, in a tiny room.

I nailed it.

And I discovered a new version of myself—confident, articulate, persuasive.

Later in 2019, at a tech expo, I realised the people running booths weren’t superhuman. They were just like me. That gave me the courage to sell, pitch, and market.

And just like that, sales became my new spark.

The Real Truth About Passion

Here’s the truth no one tells you:

Passion is not a prerequisite to live a fulfilling life. Being driven is.

We treat passion like a destination; something to find, chase, and hold onto forever. But life doesn’t work that way. Passions evolve. Interests shift. New sparks emerge.

The problem is, every time we hit a roadblock, we start looking for a new “passion.” But that’s just a distraction from the hard work it takes to build something worthwhile.

Instead, if you focus on showing up, learning, creating value, and being open to evolution, you’ll discover you’re passionate about many things at different stages in life.

Why I Wrote This

People are often surprised when I tell them I never planned to start a company. Even today, I don’t have a detailed expansion roadmap. I just follow what feels right and keep showing up.

This post is a reminder that you don’t need a “north star passion” to make it.

Writing is my new spark. And yes, it’s hard. I face blocks and doubts. But I’m driven to share my story—and that drive matters more than momentary excitement.

Final Thought

Don’t chase passion. Stay driven.

Create. Build. Learn. Show up every day. That’s how you grow.

And when you look back, you’ll realize—you didn’t find passion.

You built a life worth being passionate about.

Remember: The grass always looks greener on the other side. But it grows where you water it.

With the lights off, I paced the room, lost in thought. That’s when something unexpected happened.

The Moment That Sparked It All

In the middle of my dark, absent-minded pacing, I suddenly bumped into something with my leg. Instinctively, I thought I’d knocked over a child. I bent down quickly; only to realise, with a jolt, that I was alone in the room. In fact, I was alone in the house.

It was just a chair.

The moment passed in under a second, but it unleashed a cascade of reflection that lingered long after.

Where Did That Thought Even Come From?

Why did my brain immediately jump to the idea that I’d hit a child?

As I probed my own reaction, a memory surfaced; one I hadn’t thought about in years. When I was around 13 or 14, I was visiting a temple. Distracted and deep in thought, I accidentally bumped into a small child. The child hit my knee, fell, and began crying.

That forgotten moment, stored somewhere deep in my subconscious, had been instantly retrieved and replayed in this new, unrelated situation; simply because the physical sensation was similar.

What amazed me was not just the memory itself, but the speed at which my brain pulled it up. It took me minutes to write this down, but the realisation unfolded in under a couple of seconds.

But Why Didn’t My Brain Know Better?

As I marvelled at this, a new question hit me: if my brain is so brilliant, why didn’t it also remember that I am alone, and that no one has been around me?

I recalled something from a Stanford lecture by Prof. Robert Sapolsky, Introduction to Human Behavioural Biology. He explains that our brain deals with massive amounts of information every day by creating categories and shortcuts AND it’s a survival feature, not a flaw.

As an engineer and former coder, this resonated deeply. In large databases, filters and categories are key to speeding up searches. For example, if you’re looking up one person’s academic record in a country of 1.45 billion, you don’t search every record. You narrow by gender, age, location etc; each filter shrinking the pool and making the search faster.

Our brain does something similar. It categorizes.

The Brain: The Ultimate Memory System

Old computers, with terabytes of storage, can take seconds or even minutes to run large searches. But my brain? It matched a physical input (bumping my knee) to a 13-year-old memory, inferred the context, and even suggested a behavioural response (“look down - is there a child?”) — all in under a second.

That’s the astonishing power of categorization. But here’s the catch: fast doesn’t always mean accurate.

The Deeper Lesson

This experience reminded me that the brain’s snap judgments aren’t always right. Acting on instinct can sometimes be helpful, but sometimes, it can lead us astray, especially when the categories we rely on no longer fit the present reality.

The key is awareness. If we can pause, examine the current situation, and ask: Is this reaction truly helpful here? - we can avoid falling into the trap of automatic, biased thinking.

A Wake-Up Call From the Hiring Room

I saw the same pattern show up when I was hiring for my company a couple of years back.

Before interviews, I realized I was already forming unconscious categories about candidates. If someone fit into my mental “good” category, I’d overlook mistakes. If someone made a small slip, I sometimes unfairly derailed the interview.

The moment I became aware of this bias, I knew I needed to step back and reassess how I was making decisions.

Why I’m Sharing This

This post is a message to myself, and maybe to you, too.

Our brains are incredible, but they’re not infallible. They take shortcuts, generalize, and create categories to help us navigate a complex world. But those shortcuts can also create biases, misjudgments, and missed opportunities.

If we want to become more thoughtful & open-minded people as leaders, colleagues, friends, or simply as humans; we need to challenge our own instant reactions.

Next time you’re faced with a decision, pause.

Ask yourself;

Am I acting on the situation in front of me, or on a category my brain pulled from the past?

That small moment of reflection might just help us all become better, kinder, and more self-aware.

But does this mean that in relationships, opposites should always attract? Should we avoid seeking common ground, convinced that difference is what makes us whole?

It’s an intriguing thought, but one that requires deeper examination.

The Pull of the Opposite

In the realm of relationships, many are drawn to qualities that are diametrically opposed to their own. If you’re an introvert, you may find yourself enchanted by an extroverted, outgoing partner, someone who seems to live effortlessly in the spotlight. You marvel at how they navigate social situations with ease, while you shy away from the limelight. In this, there is a sense of “completeness” that emerges—a filling of the gaps you perceive in yourself.

Another metaphor I often use involves shoes. If your shoes are worn and dirty, you may find yourself noticing others who seem to have it all together—shoes polished, perfect, pristine. They’re the ones who seem to have their lives in order, and there’s a subtle admiration that grows.

But here, we encounter two divergent ideas that shape the fabric of human connection: the idea of completeness versus the idea of individualism.

Let’s explore both.

The Believers: Seeking Completion

The first group—let’s call them the “Believers”—are often drawn to people who offer what they lack. They feel an inherent desire for another person to fill the spaces within them, to create a partnership where two incomplete beings become whole through their union. For these individuals, relationships are grounded in a mutual journey through life, facing challenges together, validating each other’s existence.

This kind of connection isn’t always about exploration or self-growth. Rather, it’s about companionship—two people coming together, forging a life, and building a sense of shared purpose. Outside of the romantic sphere, these individuals often thrive in communities, finding strength in numbers and working together to solve collective problems.

Thus, in relationships, these “Believers” seek partners who complement them, balancing out what they feel they lack. They are driven by a sense of mutual dependence, a bond forged in shared experience, and an unspoken promise to face life’s struggles hand in hand.

The Seekers: Embracing Individualism

On the other side, we have the “Seekers”—those who are committed to personal exploration and self-actualization. These individuals value their independence and don’t rely on a partner to complete them. They are already whole, content in their own journey, and often prefer to walk through life as individuals.

This doesn’t mean that they’re not open to love, but rather that they seek someone who shares their spirit of growth, discovery, and adventure. For them, relationships are about companionship and shared exploration, not about filling voids or fixing weaknesses.

Consider this: If I’m reading a book on psychology, and you’re reading one on philosophy, we may seem to be on separate journeys. But when we come together to read a fictional book, we share something profound—a deeper, richer exploration of a single work of fiction, applying our different lenses to its characters. Even after finishing the book, we continue to engage in thoughtful dialogue, exploring every nuance and depth.

In this way, Seekers don’t just exist beside one another; they grow and evolve together, not by completing each other, but by adding to each other’s understanding of the world. They don’t need a partner to make them whole—they seek someone who understands the value of individuality and is equally invested in their own personal development.

The Path to Depth

And so, the tension between these two ways of being—the Believers and the Seekers—often leads to the question: Can opposites really attract, or do we need something deeper, something more substantial to build lasting love?

The answer lies in the depth.

In early years, the idea of opposites attracting might seem romantic, even alluring. An introvert might be drawn to an extrovert’s energy, or a homebody to the thrill of a partner’s adventures. But as we mature and understand ourselves more deeply, we come to realize that true connection goes beyond mere attraction. Over time, you may find yourself longing not for someone who fills a gap, but for someone who resonates with the depths of your being—someone who shares a core understanding of life and existence, even if they differ in other ways.

As we journey into deeper waters, we confront the excruciating process of self-discovery. We shed layers, discard old versions of ourselves, and slowly uncover the truths that define us. These truths, these essential parts of who we are, are the qualities we should look for in others. In this way, we explore not only our own depths but also the depths of another.

When we find someone who shares a similar core, a shared understanding of self and world; the relationship becomes a dialogue, not just a monologue. It becomes a space where both partners can speak, listen, and grow. Without this shared ground, there’s little room for meaningful exchange. It’s like trying to have a conversation with someone who speaks a different language—without common understanding, communication falters.

The Magnetism of Common Ground

This is why relationships that are built on a shared core—a common ground of values, principles, or beliefs—are often the most enduring. As with magnets, opposites can certainly attract, but they must eventually find balance. A magnet needs both north and south poles to function, but it is the core essence of the magnet itself that defines its strength.

In relationships, too, the core identity of each person must remain intact. The relationship itself must be grounded in mutual understanding and respect for each individual’s essence. Only then can both partners begin to explore the opposites—different perspectives, varying interests, opposing viewpoints—which serve to deepen and strengthen the connection.

Conclusion: Going Vertical and then expanding Horizontal

I like to think of this process as going vertical in a relationship first—establishing a solid foundation on common values and core beliefs. From there, the relationship can expand horizontally, exploring all the diverse experiences, opinions, and adventures that each partner brings to the table. But this only works if both individuals are clear about who they are—secure in their identities—so that they can explore the unknown together while remaining rooted in their essence.

In the end, whether we are Seekers or Believers, the relationship that truly thrives is one that honors the depth of both individuals. It’s a relationship that goes beyond surface attraction, one that fosters growth, exploration, and the beauty of shared journeys. And in this way, opposites can attract—but only when they are grounded in a deeper connection that transcends difference and seeks understanding.