Is everything planned? Lol, No!
So are you what you wanted to be when you grew up?
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
This has to be the most asked question in India — right before “When are you getting married?” and “Kitne percent aaye?”
It is dark outside. I am tucked inside a blanket that has an intricate floral pattern. The room is quiet. There’s an empty coffee cup next to me that’s still warm. The sun set hours ago, but I’m wide awake (caffeine is working!) and questioning all my life decisions — which is also my love language at this point.
Today was my weekly off. The day I’m supposed to either rest or work on my dreams. Naturally, I scrolled Instagram, checked the fridge eight times, and then finally sat down to write — so technically, I’m contributing to the dream with productivity and guilt on the side.
Now, if you tell this to my seven-year-old self, he’d be like — “Writing?! That’s your dream now? What happened to car designing, boss?”
And honestly, fair point.
I wanted to be a car designer for the longest time. I imagined sketching supercars, wearing cool black turtlenecks, and saying things like “aerodynamics” unironically. But then I realized my skill set was not up to the mark, like my height.
So I pivoted.
Next stop: Civil Services. Why? Because I live in Uttar Pradesh. A state where the answer to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” is limited to:
Doctor
Engineer
Civil Servant
Disappointment
Becoming a civil servant wasn’t just a dream. It was the dream. Especially if you wanted your neighbor aunty to finally stop asking your parents if you needed career counseling.
Eventually, that bubble burst too. The dream didn’t materialize.
So what did I do? The classic fallback plan of every middle class Indian student: B.Tech + MBA. The holy grail. The biryani with raita of academic qualifications. Respectable, very marketable, and absolutely nothing to do with my original plan.
Here’s the thing — the answer to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” changes, depending on how closely you’re able to assess your skills and interests.
For me, somewhere in the chaos of JEE ranks, mock interviews, group discussions and life in general, I started writing.
So now, here I am. A B.Tech + MBA graduate, currently wrapped in a quilt, writing about how none of this was supposed to happen — but somehow it did.
It’s been sneaking in all along.
And it all began on Facebook with funny statuses. Back when we posted like our lives depended on it. Woke up late? Post on Facebook. Ate bad momos? Post on Facebook. That awkward thing you did in front of your crush? Yes, also post on Facebook.
I wrote my observations, rants, jokes about trains, exams, and why college life should come with a survival guide. Essentially everything.
People laughed. People liked. My validation-starved inner child farted rainbows left, right and center.
And I kept writing.
I was writing because it made people laugh. And more importantly, because it made me feel seen. Understood. Celebrated, even if it was by six people and a random person on the social media.
And then, one evening, something shifted.
I was hanging out with friends. It was one of those regular going back to home kinda evening. We were laughing about something and one of my friends turned to me and said, “You should write this stuff down.”
“I do,” I said, smugly. “On Facebook.”
“No, I mean like a blog-blog,” she replied. “Wait. Do you even have one?”
I didn’t. But I didn’t want to lose that moment. So I said, “No. But I’ll start one.”
And that was it. That was the beginning.
Some asked if I started the blog because it would look good on my college application after I crack GMAT. But no, the blog had no strategy. No goals. No idea what I was doing.
It was like parenting, but with worse grammar. The first few posts were about my personal life and observations. I was just stretching jokes and hoping they’d land. Surprisingly, some of them did.
The comments were kind, the readers were few but loyal, and most importantly — I had a place of my own. A corner of the internet where I didn’t have to pretend to be motivational or impressive. I could just be funny and flawed and occasionally emotional.
It’s been over ten years since that first blog.
There have been many drafts, many plot changes, and a disturbing number of abandoned Google Docs titled “Final_Final_okay_this_is_the_last_one.” But the joy of writing? That hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s only grown.
I never thought I’d stick with it this long. Most things I’ve started haven’t lasted this long — exercise routines, journaling, friendships where it felt as if I was meeting a bad relative. But writing? It stayed. It stayed even when work got busy, even when life got weird, even when I doubted if anyone was reading anymore.
Spamming all of my friends and family members has also been a big reason, but even after a number of long and short breaks. Writing stayed.
The best part? Somewhere along the way, people started identifying me with it.
“Oh he writes.” became a line I’d hear in new introductions.
That’s when I realized — I may not be changing the world, but I was able to uplift someone’s mood. And sometimes, that’s enough.
Of course, there were detours. Life doesn’t let you just “be a writer.” You have to earn, work, adulting and other shenanigans. This is where the the formal education helped. It led me to jobs which helped me pay my bills, loan EMIs (which I took to study) and fulfil my materialistic desires.
And I’m so glad and thankful of the path I’ve been on — because it has helped me pursue writing without any stress line on my forehead. I’m able to write freely because majority of my time goes in a job which helps me survive and thrive!
Every single phase of life so far has added something to my writing. The college, corporate life, the setbacks, the chaos of Indian travel and even the philosophy found on the back of trucks and other commercial vehicles. My content was no longer just ‘funny,’ it became funny with context. Funny with pain. Funny with a touch of ‘dude same.’
This writing with a funny bone might’ve started by chance but this humor was an extension of my defense mechanism. One that helped me navigate through the flaws and unconfident aura I owned. And now? It is the dominant trait!
The subtle humor and relatability quotient wasn’t just limited to my blogs. I also add this humor to the product updates which went to the internal teams. There is no rule to not make these updates funny, but no one was doing it. So I tried adding some relatable meme or an anecdote which elevated the same old mundane update to a happy post which my colleagues enjoy (at least some do). So again a win.
I think that’s why it connects now.
Because I don’t try to make it perfect. I just try to make it real. Real enough for someone to go, “I’ve felt this too.”
And honestly, that’s the best compliment a writer can get. Not applause. Not awards. Just relatability. That gentle ping of, “This. This is me.”
Kidding! More views and likes help a lot. So keep them coming.
Some days I still doubt myself. Wonder if I should’ve stuck to the original plan. Car designer. Fancy job. International trips. But then I remember — I get to create. Everyday, with every post and note. Every silly metaphor and overthought sentence — it’s mine. And that, my friend, is pure joy.
Even if my seven-year-old self is disappointed.
He wanted to be in a lab with model cars and wind tunnels. But the present-day me? I sit under a ceiling fan, sips artisanal coffee (almost), and writes 2000-word essays about how life didn’t go as planned. Yet, here we are.
And please don’t feel sorry about me missing out on the automobile world. I’ve got a WhatsApp group with friends and one with my elder brother and a cousin brother to talk about bikes and cars all day long. I might’ve not gotten the dream job, but I am still around the thing I loved — automobiles!
Sometimes, that’s the best kind of story. The one you didn’t expect to tell.
So if you’re sitting with a dream that looks nothing like your life right now — take a deep breath. Maybe this detour is the point. Maybe what you think is a “side hobby” is your actual thing. Maybe, just maybe, the version of you that’s lost is the one that’s finally becoming real.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Maybelline. (I tried really hard not to add this but in the third edit, I gave in!)
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to refill my coffee and maybe scroll through my Facebook Memories to laugh at my younger self’s obsession with hashtags and inside jokes. Also, maybe now is a good time to re-think — “What do I want to be when I grow up?”
Well, this was all about me. What was your big childhood dream and what did life actually turn you into? Let’s talk. Let’s laugh. And let’s accept, once and for all, that “figuring it out” is a myth — but funny blogs and good chai or coffee are very real.
P.S. Turns out, these blogs weren’t just therapy. They were also, apparently, highly effective dating resumes. Proof? One of my regular readers married me. (She smiled at this while proof-reading. Guess I still got the magic in me!)
👌🏻If this piece was able to bring a smile to your face, nothing says I really loved your writing than liking, sharing, commenting and subscribing to my Substack.😄
☕️Another way to shower love is to Buy Me a Coffee to help me realize the dream of being a self-published writer.
See you soon with more fun content😁
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Yeah again, I don't have a lot of things to say like other people's.
But yup, I laughed again after reading something and all of it was your writing. It gave me real chuckles! 🙌🏻
I think you should try stand-up comedy.
I still haven’t been able to figure out what I actually want to do with life while experimenting a hell lot of things, enjoyed also many of them. May be, this experimenting and keep on trying new things is one of the things that keep me sane. Otherwise what would life be even without experimenting!!
Coming to your blog - When did this civil service thing happened, I have no clue and thanks for the mention 😉😉. P.S. - It’s been a while we haven’t discussed any new bike/ car.