Full Circle ?

It has taken me almost three weeks to get this out; not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I wanted to say it with the honesty and clarity the question deserves. Over the last few months, many people from different phases of my professional journey have asked me the same thing: “Why would you take the plunge into something as uncertain as an AI start-up now?”  The truth is, there is no single turning point. It is a circle. My beginning looks suspiciously like my present, except now I carry a little more experience, a little less fear, and an acceptance that the road rarely runs straight.

After college, I joined dad in the world of process instrumentation. It was supposed to be a natural continuation — family business, a relatively stable industry, steady work, we made instruments used by the DRDO and almost all industries that needed temperature, humidity and time to be controlled. However no one prepares you for is the internal battle between what you do because it is expected and what you do because it calls you. Instrumentation taught me discipline. It taught me how systems think and I am forever grateful - that learning is something I lean on as an IT Architect; how industrial processes breathe, how precision and timing shape entire operations. The kicker is that it also taught me something I hadn’t anticipated at the time (it’s less prevalent now but back in the 90’s it was way different) in India, age often outweighs knowledge. You could know your subject thoroughly, present data with clarity, and still be dismissed simply because you were younger than the person across the table. I saw smart people treated like they were disposable; their intelligence acknowledged privately but ignored publicly. That did something to me. It chipped away at the illusion that competence alone guarantees respect. It reminded me early in life that the world doesn’t automatically reward merit; you have to build your space, not wait to be invited into someone else’s. After six years, the work had become repetitive, the learning curve flat, and the energy draining. I didn’t want to grow old doing the same thing, in the same mindset, breathing the same stale air of hierarchy. So I stepped out.

I moved into IT with very little guidance, almost blindly; but sometimes blind steps are the most honest ones. They bypass overthinking and land you straight in motion. I ran my own shop for a few years. Looking back, I’m amazed at how much I learned in such a short time. I worked with a bunch of multinationals, even delivered some huge outcomes for Cisco and Sprint;  I found myself solving problems that excited me more than anything I had done in instrumentation. IT felt alive. It felt like possibility. It rewarded speed of thought and welcomed experimentation. For the first time, I sensed that my age didn’t matter as much as the quality of my ideas. But running your own business also teaches you the cost of autonomy. I realised, painfully and expensively, that unless you have full control of your P&L, you are essentially renting your own company from the forces that influence it. You’re accountable for the outcomes but not empowered to steer the ship. That lesson stayed with me longer than I expected. It made me cautious, yes — but more importantly, it made me aware. There is a difference between building something and merely managing it.

After my entrepreneurial stint, I joined Sungard. Then Tech Mahindra. Then Birlasoft. Then T-Systems. Each transition brought something new — new teams, new leadership styles, new complexities to navigate. Corporate life is an ecosystem of its own. It offers stability, resources, frameworks, and processes that are impossible to replicate when you’re running a small shop. I learned how large organisations think, how global customers behave, how deal cycles unfold, and how technology translates into business value. I have met some remarkable people along the way; people who shaped my thinking, questioned my assumptions, and occasionally reminded me that humility is not a weakness but a superpower. But corporate life also has its ceilings. There is a point where growth becomes mechanical, where your job becomes less about creating and more about maintaining. You become part of the efficiency engine, not the innovation engine. And if you're someone who values building, shaping, exploring; the walls slowly start closing in. Every role I took taught me something, yet somewhere inside, a quiet voice kept asking: Is this it?

And then, almost quietly, life began aligning again. Two friends, both equally restless and equally curious, nudged me into conversations that grew into ideas and eventually solidified into action. AI was no longer an abstract buzzword; it was becoming a real tool, a real platform, a real shift in how humanity would work, think, and create. I realised something important: I had come full circle. That young man who walked out of instrumentation because he was tired of repetition and hierarchy had grown into someone who had seen enough of the world to recognise opportunity even when it was wrapped in uncertainty. Today, with these two friends, I find myself plunging into the world of an AI start-up. Not because it is safe. Not because it is wise by conventional standards. But because it feels necessary. Why Now? This is the question everyone keeps asking. The assumption is that risk tolerance reduces with age, responsibility, and experience. But I think it becomes the opposite. When you’re younger, you have energy but no compass. When you’re older, you have a compass but no illusion of infinite time. You understand that certain seasons in life don’t come back. You understand the weight of regret. You understand the meaning of opportunity cost. The plunge feels possible now because I know what repetitive work feels like. I know what lack of autonomy does to the spirit. I know how it feels to outsource your growth to an external system. And I know the cost of ignoring the itch to build. More importantly, I have learned, the hard way,that time will never announce the right moment. Any time is a good time if you have looked your past in the eye, extracted its lessons, and decided not to repeat its errors.

If my years in instrumentation taught me humility, my years as an entrepreneur taught me courage. If my years in corporate environments taught me structure, my return to entrepreneurship is teaching me freedom again.

Every phase prepared me for what comes next, sometimes gently, sometimes by burning me a little so the next time I would walk with more awareness. People often think experience makes you risk-averse. I believe experience just teaches you what real risks are. The real risk is not starting late. The real risk is staying stuck. The real risk is ignoring the signs your life keeps sending you, again and again, until you recognise the pattern.

So here I am now: beginning again, but with the wisdom of all my previous endings. Working with two friends who feel more like co-travellers than colleagues. Building in a domain that excites me, scares me, challenges me, and wakes me up with curiosity every single morning. Maybe this plunge is not a plunge at all. Maybe it is simply a continuation, the next logical step in a journey that seems chaotic from the outside but makes perfect sense from within. If you ask me why I chose this moment, this industry, this uncertainty, I can only say this : Because I learned from everything that came before. Because I am done doing things that don’t stretch me.Because sometimes you don’t choose the path; the path circles back and chooses you.

In the end, the only real question is: which version of yourself do you want to disappoint ? the one that stayed safe, or the one that dared?

I’ve made my choice.

C