Today, while sifting through my wardrobe, I stumbled upon a forgotten letter – addressed to my future self, with strict instructions to "Open only in 2029." Of course, my curiosity got the better of me. Perhaps it was an after-effect of watching "P.S. I Love You" one too many times, but I couldn't resist.
What I found surprised me. It was a blueprint of my ambitions, penned just before I decided to leave my job. It’s peculiar, how my life often takes a complete U-turn precisely when I become too serious or ambitious about something. Things rarely unfold as I meticulously plan. This letter laid out exactly where I envisioned myself by 2029 – professionally, personally, spiritually, and in every other sphere.
Reading it, a wave of irony washed over me. I couldn't help but feel like writing back to my past self, saying, "That's a bit ambitious, isn't it?" Especially since I quit the very job that was supposed to be the launchpad for these dreams.
What good will come of this detour, I don't know. But I've learned to practice the art of letting go, even of things I deeply desire. Maybe the universe is nudging me to master detachment in this lifetime, even while keeping me firmly rooted within a family, surrounded by all kinds of attachments.
Later in the day, we found ourselves in Hitech City. It's an area I know well, having witnessed its incredible growth firsthand.
I first arrived in Hyderabad with my family around 2000 or 2001. Back then, Cyber Towers, inaugurated in 1999, felt like it was on the city's outskirts. Hyderabad and Secunderabad truly felt like two distinct cities, with far fewer flyovers connecting them.
My next visit was in 2009, this time to join an organization housed in Cyber Towers. I remember that train journey from Bangalore – alone, with three ridiculously large trolley bags. My friend, who was supposed to pick me up, wasn't answering her phone right before I boarded. I was a nervous wreck, imagining myself stranded. Thankfully, she called back at 11:30 PM, having forgotten her phone at office. Can you even imagine someone forgetting their mobile phone nowadays?! When I finally landed early morning, taking an auto to Madhapur where she lived, I was struck by the sheer number of new flyovers from Secunderabad to Madhapur.
Working in Cyber Towers, I remember thinking how it looked so imposing in pictures, yet seemed less grand in person. There were only a handful of IT parks back then, easily countable on one's fingers. Inorbit Mall opened in 2010, and slowly but surely, the space between Cyber Towers and Inorbit began to fill in. The arrival of IKEA seemed to ignite an even more rapid development. It's hard to believe that this entire area, now teeming with towering IT parks that make it feel almost un-Indian, was once just a landscape of boulders.
And yet, despite this rapid growth, I had to quit my job.
Today, I truly missed it. I found myself wishing I could still walk from Cyber Pearl to Inorbit, just like I used to when work got a little too monotonous. Those days are gone.
And it feels like many of my dreams have gone with them. I only wish my life had experienced a steep upward trajectory, mirroring Hyderabad's infrastructure boom, instead of the steep downward curve I've felt.
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