The first memory I can truly recall isn’t a video, just a picture frozen in my mind—me, barely a year or two old, crawling on a railway platform, reaching for a fallen mango. My father was a station master, and the rhythmic hum of trains was the backdrop of my childhood. Life in the early ‘90s was simple—no smartphones, no digital archives of memories. Just fleeting moments, captured in fragments.

Growing up, change was the only constant. My father’s job took us from one town to another, transferring us like pieces on a chessboard. By the time I finished high school, I had studied in seven different schools. Making deep friendships was impossible when you were always packing up and leaving. My life wasn’t a continuous film—it was a slideshow of disconnected images.

But one thing remained unchanged: my obsession with being different, being better. I didn’t just want to follow paths; I wanted to build them.

Even as a child, engineering fascinated me. One of my earliest experiments was with a simple 12W motor, which I attached to my bicycle to power front and rear lights. Cars and motorcycles were rare where we lived, so my self-lit bicycle stood out. That was my first act of rebellion against the ordinary.

By the time I reached 10th grade, my family decided it was time to settle down. My father bought a piece of land in Bareilly, and suddenly, at 16, I found myself in charge of overseeing the construction of our first real home. My father was always on duty, so I managed everything—the planning, the materials, the workers. I had no formal training, but I learned by doing. I made mistakes, but I built something permanent. A house with 5 rooms. in 2 year.

That was my first taste of real engineering—not the kind taught in books, but the kind that comes from necessity.

Around the same time, I got my first computer. Not a brand-name machine, but an assembled one. I had watched the dealer put together different components, and the process fascinated me. Computers weren’t just devices; they were puzzles waiting to be solved. I started experimenting, upgrading, and optimizing them. My curiosity led me to gaming, and gaming led me to hardware optimization. I discovered that most people didn’t understand the technical side of computers, and I saw an opportunity. I began building and selling custom gaming PCs, repairing laptops, and installing graphic cards. What started as a hobby became my first business.

By the time I finished high school, I was financially independent, making enough money to cover my expenses. While others were waiting for college to define their futures, I had already started shaping mine.

The next big decision was college. I cleared multiple entrance exams—AIEEE, UPTU, GGSIPU—and got offers from NIT Jammu, Kurukshetra University, and Maharaja Surajmal Institute of Technology. My family approved of the GGSIPU option, and I prepared everything—documents, demand drafts, travel plans. But life had another twist in store.

When I reached the admission office, I discovered that the actual fees were ₹90,000 per year, not ₹60,000 as I had expected. My family couldn’t afford the additional cost. In that moment, I made a decision that would change everything—I gave up my seat.

The boy next in line, from Lucknow, took it instead. His parents were overjoyed. I remember his mother looking at me and asking, Why aren’t you taking admission?

I didn’t have an answer. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t the end—just a detour.

With no college to attend, I moved to Delhi alone, renting a single room in Rajouri Garden. Instead of a traditional degree, I enrolled in NIIT to sharpen my skills in programming and IT. While my peers were following conventional paths, I was carving out my own.

This is where the story truly begins.

Because life isn’t about the opportunities you lose. It’s about the ones you create.