writing

A year ago, I almost didn't make it. Today, I live differently.

It has been 365 days since it happened, a full year that feels both distant and impossibly like yesterday. In that time, I've begun a new life, one built on presence rather than plans. The idea of a grand, long-term goal still sounds nice in theory, but after what I've lived through, I find peace in the now.

the act

November 9, 2024. A Saturday afternoon in Miami, around 4 p.m., at South Pointe Beach. I was with two friends, S and P. I had actually just met P that day. The three of us were out in the water, laughing, floating, and riding waves.

After about forty-five minutes, S stepped out of the water. It was just me and P. Then, out of nowhere, a big wave hit. I lost my footing on the ocean bed. Before I could recover, a second wave came in harder and pulled me in. That's when panic took over. I tried swimming back, but every stroke seemed useless. The more I tried, the further I felt from control. In that chaos, my mind started to process what my body already knew I was in trouble. P was next to me, and somehow, he stayed calm. He tried to help me steady myself, to keep me level with the water. I grabbed onto him, and in that instant, my life literally depended on him. When I looked back at the shore, it was far way farther than it should have been. That's when real fear hit. It's a terrible feeling, realizing that your survival comes down to whether you can keep trying for one more second. If I stopped swimming, if I stopped breathing, that would be it.

There was a brief moment when everything went quiet inside my head. I remember thinking, this could be it. That single thought has stayed with me every day since.

Luckily, the lifeguard had seen us by then. He reached us, pulled us in, and before I knew it, we were back on the sand. Alive. The first thing we did? We laughed. For two straight minutes, we just laughed, shaking from adrenaline and disbelief. All I could say was, "What the fuck just happened?"

initial emotions

Originally, I wasn't even planning to go to the beach that afternoon. The plan was to head there later in the evening. I wasn't supposed to meet S and P there either. The lifeguard could have seen us a few moments later. I could have given up. Ifs, buts, and variables, this story could have ended very differently, maybe even been told by someone else.

After all the chaos, I sat on a bench watching the sunset. We got ourselves popsicles, I picked peach orange. I remember calling my friend R right after and telling him what happened. He laughed at first, then reminded me why he always says "be safe" instead of "have a good time" whenever I travel. Later that night, I called my friends back in India and poured my heart out. The next day, I gathered the courage to tell the story to the friend who's unofficially my mom. Of course, I got schooled. I deserved it.

Everything around me felt sharper, slower, heavier. Every small thing around me carried new weight. Gratitude wasn't just an idea anymore.

I never planned to tell my parents. My mom has already seen two of her brothers pass away at a young age, and I don't think I could ever make her relive that kind of fear. They don't follow me on X, and thankfully, I haven't been stupid in the last year.

big moves

My people. My work.

The week that followed was unexpectedly eventful. I received an Outstanding Paper Award, and S won Best Paper at the same conference. From there, I went straight home for a close family wedding. My emotions were still running high from everything that had happened the week before, and suddenly I was surrounded by the people I love most. It felt grounding, almost healing, to be held by that circle of warmth. I didn't tell anyone about what had happened, I just sat quietly, saying my thank-yous in my head.

I never took to Chennai. The weather was harsh, the city never quite felt like home, and its energy didn't sync with mine. My closest friends were in Bangalore and Hyderabad, so I'd grab any excuse to head there. After that experience, I started making the trips more often — Friday night buses, Sunday night returns, straight to the lab Monday morning. It wasn't efficient by any stretch, but it was an optimization for the heart.

Maybe it's okay to admit this at 25: my work defines me. Everything I am today has been built through it and through the people I've met because of it. Over the last couple of years, I've cared for my work more deeply than anything else. Sometimes too deeply.

A few days after the wedding, I returned to campus. The first question someone asked me was, "Why were you gone so long?" They didn't have the context to know why that question stung, but it stayed with me. It set off a wave of reflection. What am I doing? What does my work really mean to me, or to anyone? Who am I publishing these papers for? Am I happy doing this? Do I want to do this forever? So many questions, all at once.

By then, I had spent more than four years in the lab, working on different projects. I had always been supported, guided on ideas, execution, and direction. But in my head, I'd set myself a challenge: before finishing my PhD, I needed to take one idea from start to finish, entirely on my own. No hand-holding. If I could pull that off and get it accepted into a conference, I'd be ready for the world. That time came sooner than expected. I picked an idea, did the work, and after one retry, it got accepted. (I still had people helping me along the way and honestly, fuck yes, there's no shame in that.) That was my quiet victory proof that I could stand on my own.

There was another big decision along the way. In mid-2023, when I was still fairly new to the field, I had the chance to join Sarvam. But I passed. I wasn't ready yet. I needed to learn, to fail, to build confidence in myself first. Two years later, that feeling changed. I called Rahul and said, "I'm ready." (Dramatic for effect, but close enough.) And honestly, it's been nothing but fun since.

My coping mechanism in life has always been adrenaline. When things get hard, my instinct is to chase something that jolts me back, something that forces me to live entirely in that moment. I'm not sure if it's healthy, but it works. It's the same feeling I get when I'm deep in my work, when everything clicks, when hours disappear, when I'm knee-deep in thousands of lines of code and nothing else matters. I wish more people could feel what I feel in those moments. (surprisingly, not many people feel that way and that's okay. You don't have to. Everyone draws their own lines between work and life; I just happen to blur mine more than most. I've also come to believe this: if you're spending 8–9 hours of your waking day nearly a quarter of your life (45/24*7 = 26.7%) doing something, you might as well love it, or at least learn to.)

I know I have more work to do on the people front. I don't take that lightly. But for now, this is where I am standing somewhere between gratitude and ambition, trying to live, work, and care a little more every day.

highlights

1. Traveled to Europe three times this year and trying to squeeze in a fourth before the year ends
   1. Fun fact, I have a google sheet with metadata of every flight I have ever taken
2. Saw snow for the first time - French Alps, March'25
3. Bought a Ferrari Lego set in the airport duty free because impulse purchases are my thing. Now sits on our coffee table as center piece
4. Moved into my first real house — farewell hostels, hello slightly more adult chaos.
5. Bought a bike I'd always wanted. Walked in, paid cash → little stupid in hindsight, could've made some credit card points
6. Jumped out of a plane (with a parachute, obviously) because my coping mechanism is vertical risk.
7. Got gloriously shitfaced at a friend's wedding. People still have nightmares when Jäger and I share a room.
8. Became more social → discovered an underused superpower: embarrassing myself in new groups. 10/10, would recommend.
9. Made new friends. I actually like having people around.
10. Made new enemies. Balance is important.
11. Took on bigger challenges at work. Not fully solved yet, but we're close and the coffee is helping.
12. Gave a talk at Google I/O Connect and collected fancy photos to prove I left the cave.
13. Learned to swim (duh!) — need more practice, but I can now float with dignity for at least twenty seconds.

mild regrets

1. Called friends and family more often — confession: my call frequency tanked in the second half of the year. Sorry, people I love.
   1. Rohit — yes, I will call you back. Consider this public promise
2. Stayed longer in Vienna left too soon and still dreaming of one more beer.
3. Wanted to punch a guy in the face, resisted. Society won this round. (Barely)
4. Committed more code to GitHub (I'm actually serious)

Grateful to be living a life that lets me do all this — the highs, the chaos, the Jäger, the code, and everything in between.