Still Figuring It Out

I didn’t move to Paris to write poetry. I didn’t disappear into the mountains with a sketchbook. I stayed here — in India — and still chose the long, winding, slightly weird road.

Started with a regular job. Decent money, really good people, a lot to do, and genuinely challenging work. It made sense on paper. But every morning, I felt it — like I was building someone else’s thing. Not mine. Not me.

So I stepped away.

No big company badge now. No clear five-year plan. Just me, figuring things out as an independent designer and creative engineer, one project at a time. Sometimes from my room. Sometimes from a café with dodgy Wi-Fi. Sometimes in that in-between space where you’re not sure if you’re working or just thinking really hard.

I said no to a lot of “safe” things. And yes to things that made zero sense at the time but taught me more than any course ever could — like designing for people across the world, or building something from scratch just because the idea wouldn’t leave me alone.

There were moments I questioned everything. When the money was low. When the inspiration was lower. When I thought maybe everyone else knew something I didn’t. But there were also wins — real ones. A message from a stranger who loved something I made. A late-night breakthrough. That tiny high when something clicks and I feel like, okay, maybe this is it.

And slowly, some of it started to make sense. Not in the traditional way. But in a way that feels like mine.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: you don’t get to original by doing what everyone else is doing. You have to go off-script. Get a little lost. Let it be messy. Let it be yours.

I’m still figuring it out. Still making stuff. Still walking this strange path.
No neat ending yet
But I’m still here.