If someone asks me…
“What is the most expensive education you’ve ever received?”
Most people expect me to say,
“My architecture degree.”
Some think I’ll talk about the years I spent learning design software.
Others assume I’ll mention internships, corporate projects or international clients.
The funny thing is…
None of those things made me the person I am today.
If I’m completely honest…
The most important education of my life happened long before I entered any classroom.
It happened inside a small house where nobody knew they were teachers.
I was born in Ahmedabad in 1989.
We weren’t poor.
We weren’t rich either.
We were one of those families that never discussed money in front of children.
At least that’s what my parents thought.
Children notice everything.
Even when they understand nothing.
I still remember our house.
Cream coloured walls.
A green iron gate that made noise every time someone opened it.
Two bedrooms.
One drawing room that became a guest room whenever relatives visited.
A kitchen that always smelled different depending on the season.
During monsoon…
Pakoras.
During winter…
Gajar ka halwa.
During summer…
Raw mango pickle drying on old newspapers.
If I close my eyes today…
I can still walk through that house without opening them.
I know exactly where the switchboard was.
Which floor tile was cracked.
Which cupboard door never closed properly.
And which window gave the best view whenever it rained.
My earliest memory isn’t my first birthday.
It isn’t school either.
It’s my mother waking up before sunrise.
I don’t remember ever seeing her alarm ring.
Somehow…
She always woke up before everyone else.
By the time my sister and I opened our eyes…
Breakfast was ready.
Uniforms were ironed.
Water bottles were filled.
Shoes were polished.
School bags were packed.
As children…
We genuinely believed these things happened automatically.
Exactly like sunrise.
Nobody tells children…
That someone’s sleep becomes their comfort.
It took me almost twenty-five years to understand that every peaceful morning I had…
Was built on someone else’s unfinished night.
Papa was the opposite.
Very few words.
Very predictable routine.
6:30 AM tea.
7:10 newspaper.
8:00 office.
7:15 back home.
Dinner.
News.
Sleep.
When I was young…
I thought his life looked boring.
Today…
I realise there was something beautiful about that consistency.
He didn’t tell us to work hard.
He simply showed us every single day.
There wasn’t one speech.
There were thousands of mornings.
Children copy routines…
Not lectures.
I learnt that much later.
Every Sunday had its own ritual.
Papa would wash the scooter himself.
I used to sit nearby pretending to help.
Actually…
I just played with water.
He never shouted.
Instead he’d say…
“Achha…
Tu tyre saaf kar.”
I would clean one tyre for fifteen minutes.
It still looked dirty.
Papa never corrected me.
He quietly cleaned it again after I left.
At that age I thought he trusted me.
Now I realise…
He was teaching me responsibility without making me feel incapable.
That is a talent every parent has.
And most children never notice it.
Our dining table was probably the first meeting room of my life.
There was one unwritten rule.
Dinner together.
No matter what.
Papa asked every one of us the same question.
“Aaj din kaisa tha?”
Simple question.
Simple answer.
At least that’s what I thought.
Years later I realised…
He wasn’t asking about school.
He was checking whether everyone was okay.
Nobody used words like anxiety.
Nobody discussed mental health.
But somehow…
One dinner table managed to do what expensive therapy sometimes struggles to do today.
It kept us connected.
The first lesson home taught me wasn’t honesty.
Or discipline.
It was observation.
My grandmother never ate before everyone returned home.
Even if lunch got delayed.
Even if she was hungry.
One day I asked,
“Dadi… pehle kyun nahi kha leti?”
She smiled and said,
“Ghar tab complete lagta hai jab sab apni jagah par hon.”
At ten years old…
I didn’t understand.
At thirty-seven…
I still think about that sentence every Diwali.
Because today…
Getting everyone in one room has become the hardest festival tradition of all.
Our house never had expensive furniture.
But it had stories.
Every object had one.
The dining table was bought after Papa’s promotion.
The fridge came when my sister was born.
The wall clock was gifted by my grandfather.
The wooden swing in the veranda…
Papa built it himself over three weekends.
Back then…
These were just things.
Today…
I realise…
Homes aren’t made of furniture.
They’re made of memories attached to furniture.
When I entered Class 5…
I failed my first mathematics unit test.
Thirty-two out of hundred.
I still remember hiding that paper inside my notebook.
I was terrified.
Not because Papa would beat me.
He never did.
I was scared of disappointing him.
That evening…
He quietly looked at the paper.
Folded it.
Placed it on the table.
And asked only one question.
“Samajh nahi aaya tha…
Ya padha nahi tha?”
I said,
“Samajh nahi aaya.”
He smiled.
“Toh phir seekhenge.”
Bas.
No shouting.
No comparison.
No neighbour’s son.
That evening…
I learnt something much bigger than mathematics.
Failure isn’t frightening.
Humiliation is.
And my parents never allowed failure to become humiliation.
Us din ke baad Papa roz shaam ko office se aane ke baad aadha ghanta mere saath baithte the.
Kabhi dining table par.
Kabhi floor par newspaper bichha kar.
Kabhi veranda mein.
Unke padhane ka tareeka bhi ajeeb tha.
Formula yaad karwane se pehle woh poochte,
“Samajh kya nahi aaya?”
Aaj jab office mein junior employees ko train karta hoon, toh bina soche wahi sawaal pooch leta hoon.
Shayad insaan apne parents se aadatein inherit karta hai.
Sirf chehra nahi.
Hamare ghar mein marks celebrate hote the.
Lekin sirf marks nahi.
Effort bhi.
Ek baar annual exam mein main second aaya.
Main udaas tha.
Mujhe first aana tha.
Papa ne us din ice cream khilayi.
Maine poocha,
“First toh nahi aaya.”
Papa bole,
“Second aaya hai na.
Pichhli baar fifth tha.”
Us din pehli baar samjha…
Comparison doosron se nahi…
Kal wale khud se hona chahiye.
Meri chhoti behen meri pehli competitor bhi thi aur pehli dost bhi.
Hum roz ladte the.
Remote kisne chhupaya.
Aakhri gulab jamun kaun khayega.
Papa ke scooter par aage kaun baithega.
Diwali mein zyada patakhe kisne jalaye.
Us waqt lagta tha…
Ye ladai bahut badi hai.
Aaj hum dono alag-alag shehron mein rehte hain.
Kabhi kabhi woh purani baatein yaad aati hain toh hasi bhi aati hai aur thodi kami bhi mehsoos hoti hai.
Life ajeeb hai.
Jin logon se bachpan mein door bhaagna chahte ho…
Bade hoke unhi ke saath ek cup chai ke liye taras jaate ho.
Sunday hamare ghar ka family day hota tha.
Papa scooter saaf karte.
Mummy poore ghar ki safai karti.
Main aur meri behen almariyan saaf karte hue purani cheezein dhoondhte.
Kabhi purane greeting cards mil jaate.
Kabhi school ki drawings.
Kabhi photo albums.
Ek photo aaj bhi yaad hai.
Main lagbhag chhe saal ka tha.
Papa ne mujhe kandhe par bithaya hua tha.
Photo dekhkar maine mazaak mein bola,
“Papa, aap kitne patle the.”
Sab has pade.
Lekin us photo ko dekhte hue mujhe pehli baar realise hua…
Time sirf calendar nahi badalta.
Chehre bhi badal deta hai.
Hamare ghar mein TV dekhne ka bhi timetable tha.
Saturday raat movie.
Sunday morning Rangoli.
Cricket match ho toh poora ghar ek saath.
Electricity chali jaaye toh sab chhat par.
Us waqt kisi ko boredom naam ki cheez nahi hoti thi.
Hum log baat kar lete the.
Aaj har kisi ke haath mein phone hai.
Aur baat karne ka waqt sabke paas kam ho gaya hai.
Class 9 mein pehli baar school trip par gaya.
Teen din ke liye Udaipur.
Main bahut excited tha.
Lekin trip ke doosre din raat ko mummy ki yaad aayi.
Hostel ke room mein chup-chaap baitha tha.
Us zamane mein video call nahi hoti thi.
STD booth se ghar phone kiya.
Mummy ne bas awaaz suni aur poocha,
“Sab theek hai?”
Maine turant bola,
“Haan.”
Unhone kaha,
“Jhooth mat bol.”
Mujhe aaj tak samajh nahi aaya…
Maa log awaaz se dil ka haal kaise padh leti hain.
Class 10 board exams ka pressure har middle-class ghar mein alag hi level ka hota hai.
Hamare ghar mein bhi tha.
Lekin pressure marks ka kam…
Meri health ka zyada tha.
Mummy roz doodh lekar aati.
Main roz mana karta.
Papa roz kehte,
“Paper se pehle so jaana.”
Main roz raat tak padhne ki acting karta.
Sach toh ye tha…
Zyada waqt tension lene mein nikal jaata tha.
Result aaya.
Achhe marks aaye.
Sab khush the.
Lekin mujhe result se zyada ek aur cheez yaad hai.
Papa ne mera marksheet dekhkar kaha,
“Ab isse sambhal ke rakhna.”
Maine poocha,
“Kyun?”
Papa bole,
“Kal ko yaad rahega ki tu yahan tak kaise pahuncha.”
Us waqt marksheet ek kagaz thi.
Aaj woh meri life ka timeline lagti hai.
School ke last din assembly ke baad sab log autograph books lekar ghoom rahe the.
Sab ek doosre ke shirts par sign kar rahe the.
Hum sabko lag raha tha…
Hum roz milenge.
Life waise hi rahegi.
Ek dost ne meri shirt par likha tha,
“Don’t change.”
Main us waqt muskura diya.
Aaj sochta hoon…
Agar woh mujhe aaj dekhe…
Toh shayad pehchaan hi na paaye.
Insaan badalta nahi…
Zindagi usse dheere-dheere badal deti hai.
12th ke baad sabse bada sawaal tha…
Ab kya?
Engineering?
Commerce?
Architecture?
Medical?
Har ghar mein discussion chal raha tha.
Hamare ghar mein bhi.
Lekin ek baat mujhe aaj bhi yaad hai.
Papa ne kabhi ye nahi kaha,
“Ye hi banna.”
Unhone sirf ek sentence bola.
“Jo ban, imaandari se ban.”
Us ek sentence ne mere upar se aadha pressure hata diya.
Us din pehli baar laga…
Trust bhi ek gift hota hai.
Aur har parent apne bachche ko ye gift nahi de paata.
Entrance exams shuru hue.
Forms.
Coaching.
Bus journeys.
Exam centres.
Roll numbers.
Cut-offs.
Har hafte koi naya city.
Har hafte ek nayi umeed.
Main bahar se confident dikhta tha.
Andar se dara hua tha.
Raat ko terrace par jaakar aasman dekhta.
Sochta…
Agar selection nahi hua toh?
Agar hua toh?
Dono sawaalon se equally darr lagta tha.
Kyunki pehli baar life mujhe ghar ki dehleez ke bahar le jaane wali thi.
Aur mujhe bilkul andaaza nahi tha…
Ki agla chapter sirf meri padhai nahi…
Mere aur mere ghar ke beech ki doori bhi likhne wala tha.
Main Ahmedabad se pehli baar itni door ja raha tha.
Architecture college Jaipur mein mila.
Admission letter haath mein tha.
Papa khush the.
Mummy khush thi.
Main bhi khush tha…
Ya shayad mujhe lag raha tha ki main khush hoon.
Sach kahun…
Mujhe excitement se zyada darr lag raha tha.
Ghar chhodna pehli baar kisi vacation jaisa nahi tha.
Is baar wapas aane ki date fix nahi thi.
Packing shuru hui.
Ek bada suitcase.
Ek backpack.
Do bedsheets.
Teen jeans.
Kuch T-shirts.
Drawing sheets.
Geometry box.
Aur mummy ne pata nahi kitne packets rakh diye.
Mathri.
Thepla.
Achar.
Dry fruits.
Main baar-baar bol raha tha,
“Mummy… hostel mein canteen hai.”
Woh sirf muskura kar kehti,
“Pehle din ghar ka khana kha lena.”
Us waqt mujhe woh overprotective lag rahi thi.
Hostel pahunchne ke dus din baad…
Maine wahi thepla khaya.
Aur pehli baar laga…
Khana sirf pet nahi bharta.
Kabhi kabhi ghar bhi yaad dila deta hai.
Papa mujhe chhodne Jaipur aaye.
Poora safar train mein hum dono zyada baat nahi kar paaye.
Papa waise bhi kam bolte the.
Main shayad emotions chhupa raha tha.
Station par utar kar auto liya.
College dekha.
Hostel dekha.
Room allot hua.
Ek iron bed.
Ek study table.
Ek almirah.
Aur ek khidki…
Jisse saamne wale hostel ki building dikhti thi.
Papa ne poora room dekha.
Bed sheet bichhai.
Almirah saaf ki.
Table ko kapde se poncha.
Main bas unhe dekh raha tha.
Mujhe ajeeb lag raha tha.
Ghar mein kabhi unhe itna kaam karte hue notice hi nahi kiya tha.
Jab woh wapas jaane lage…
Tab pehli baar mujhe samajh aaya…
Parents goodbye bolte waqt apne emotions kitni achhi tarah chhupa lete hain.
Papa ne sirf itna bola,
“Paise khatam hone se pehle bata dena.”
Main bola,
“Haan.”
Woh bole,
“Aur…”
Thodi der ruk gaye.
“…khana time se kha lena.”
Bas.
Na gale lage.
Na aansu.
Na koi movie wala emotional scene.
Lekin unke jaate hi room bahut bada lagne laga.
Hostel ki pehli raat…
Main lagbhag do ghante tak so hi nahi paaya.
Roommate already so chuka tha.
Main ceiling dekh raha tha.
Pehli baar realise hua…
Ghar ki khamoshi aur hostel ki khamoshi mein bahut farq hota hai.
Ghar ki khamoshi sukoon deti hai.
Hostel ki khamoshi yaad dilati hai…
Ki tum akela ho.
Architecture ki padhai waise nahi thi jaise maine imagine ki thi.
Log sochte hain architect sirf drawing banata hai.
Reality kuch aur hi thi.
Assignments.
Models.
Late-night submissions.
Tracing sheets.
Scale.
Cutter.
Glue.
Fevicol.
Cardboard.
Coffee.
Aur neend ki kami.
Kabhi kabhi lagta tha…
Hum design kam aur deadlines zyada bana rahe hain.
Ek baar submission se ek din pehle mera poora model toot gaya.
Paanch din ki mehnat.
Ek second mein khatam.
Main hostel ke corridor mein baith gaya.
Dil kar raha tha sab chhod doon.
Us waqt mummy ka phone aaya.
Main normally baat kar raha tha.
Unhone achanak poocha,
“Sab theek hai na?”
Main hans diya.
“Kuch nahi hua.”
Unhone kaha,
“Tu jab jhooth bolta hai na…
Tab aur dheere bolta hai.”
Main chup ho gaya.
Hazaar kilometre door baithi maa…
Phir meri awaaz padh gayi.
Us din maine unhe sab bata diya.
Model.
Submission.
Stress.
Neend.
Sab kuch.
Unhone sirf ek baat boli.
“Beta…
Cheezein dobara ban jaati hain.
Insaan himmat haar de…
Woh mushkil hota hai.”
Us raat main aur mere dost subah chaar baje tak model dobara banate rahe.
Submission hua.
Prize nahi mila.
Lekin us assignment ke baad…
Main kabhi failure se utna nahi dara.
College ne mujhe sirf profession nahi sikhaya.
Usne log padhna bhi sikhaya.
Ek dost tha…
Kabir.
Har waqt hasta rehta tha.
Poore hostel ki jaan.
Ek din pata chala…
Uske papa ka business doob gaya hai.
Fees bharne ke paise nahi the.
Us din realise hua…
Har hasi ke peeche ek kahani hoti hai.
Bas sab sunate nahi.
Ek aur dost thi…
Naina.
Class ki topper.
Har professor ki favourite.
Sabko lagta tha uski life perfect hai.
Ek din library ke bahar woh ro rahi thi.
Reason?
Usne bola,
“Main thak gayi hoon perfect ban-ban kar.”
Us din pehli baar samjha…
Logon ki achievements dekhkar unki zindagi judge karna kitna aasaan hota hai.
Aur kitna galat.
College ke chaar saal…
Kab khatam ho gaye…
Pata hi nahi chala.
Freshers se seniors ban gaye.
Room badle.
Friends badle.
Mobile phones badle.
Facebook aaya.
Instagram aaya.
Selfies badh gayi.
Photo albums kam ho gaye.
Lekin ek cheez nahi badli.
Har Sunday mummy ka phone.
Aur har call ki ending…
“Khana time se khana.”
Aaj bhi woh sentence nahi badla.
Sirf city badal gayi.
Main bhi badal gaya.
Lekin mummy ka last sentence…
Aaj bhi wahi hai.
Final year mein placement season shuru hua.
Sab formal clothes pehen kar interviews de rahe the.
Resume print ho rahe the.
Mock interviews.
Group discussions.
Stress.
Hope.
Rejections.
Selections.
Har notice board ke saamne bheed.
Main bhi us bheed ka hissa tha.
Lekin mujhe bilkul andaaza nahi tha…
Ki job milne ke baad meri life ka sabse bada design building ka nahi…
Apni zindagi ka hone wala tha.
Aur us design ka blueprint…
Mere paas bilkul nahi tha.
I’ll continue in the same memoir style, keeping it natural and memory-driven rather than dramatic.
Placement ke results aane shuru ho gaye the.
Har din notice board ke saamne bheed lagti thi.
Kisi ka naam list mein hota…
Toh poora hostel usse kandhon par utha leta.
Jiska naam nahi hota…
Woh muskura kar bol deta,
“Koi baat nahi… agla interview dekhte hain.”
Hum sab ek doosre ko motivate karte the.
Lekin raat ko har koi apne-apne room mein chup ho jaata tha.
Career shuru hone se pehle hi hum sab bade hone lage the.
Mujhe meri pehli job Bengaluru mein mili.
Offer letter haath mein tha.
Salary dekhkar sabse pehle maine Papa ko phone kiya.
Phone mummy ne uthaya.
“Mummy… ho gaya.”
Dus second tak udhar se koi awaaz nahi aayi.
Phir unhone sirf itna bola,
“Ruk… Papa ko bulati hoon.”
Papa phone par aaye.
“Mubarak ho beta.”
Bas itna hi.
Lekin unki awaaz mein jo sukoon tha…
Woh shayad meri poori degree se bhi bada reward tha.
Joining se pehle ghar wapas aaya.
Pata nahi kyun…
Is baar ghar kuch alag lag raha tha.
Ya shayad…
Main alag ho gaya tha.
Mera kamra wahi tha.
Meri study table wahi thi.
Diwaar par wahi purani trophy rakhi thi.
Lekin mujhe pehli baar mehsoos hua…
Main mehmaan ki tarah apne hi kamre mein baitha hoon.
Life kitni jaldi badal jaati hai.
Ek waqt tha jab ye kamra meri poori duniya tha.
Ab ye meri yaadon ka address banne wala tha.
Bengaluru shift hone ka din aa gaya.
Station par mummy baar-baar pooch rahi thi,
“Sab rakh liya na?”
Main har baar bol raha tha,
“Haan.”
Sach bataun…
Main kuch aur hi bhool raha tha.
Main ghar mein roz milne wale logon ki aadat bhool raha tha.
Aur mujhe us waqt iska andaaza bhi nahi tha.
Naya shehar.
Naya office.
Naye log.
Pehle din ID card gale mein pehna toh laga…
Ab sach mein bade ho gaye.
Training room mein lagbhag sau log baithe the.
Har kisi ke chehre par excitement thi.
Sab apni engineering, apna college aur apna shehar bata rahe the.
Us din mujhe laga…
Life dobara shuru ho rahi hai.
Office ka pehla mahina bahut interesting tha.
Subah cab.
Office cafeteria.
Access card.
Laptop.
Meetings.
Training.
Coffee machine.
Har cheez nayi thi.
Har cheez exciting thi.
Har shaam ghar phone karta.
Mummy poochti,
“Khana kaisa milta hai?”
Papa poochte,
“Kaam samajh aa raha hai?”
Aur main har baar wahi jawab deta,
“Haan… sab achha hai.”
Unhe kabhi nahi bataya…
Ki pehle mahine main do baar office ka raasta bhatak gaya tha.
Ek baar poora din sirf biscuits kha kar nikala.
Aur ek Sunday poora din room mein baitha raha kyunki shehar mein mera koi dost nahi tha.
Salary ka pehla month…
Aaj bhi yaad hai.
Bank account mein paise aaye toh main lagbhag das minute screen dekhta raha.
Bachpan se pehli baar laga…
Ab main bhi ghar ke liye kuch kar sakta hoon.
Usi din mummy ke account mein kuch paise transfer kiye.
Phone aaya.
“Beta… ye kyun bheje?”
Maine bola,
“Bas aise hi.”
Mummy boli,
“Humein zarurat nahi hai.”
Maine hans kar kaha,
“Mujhe zarurat thi.”
Us din pehli baar laga…
Main sirf beta nahi raha.
Main ghar ki responsibility ka bhi ek hissa ban gaya.
Office mein dheere-dheere log pehchaanne lage.
Koi Excel poochta.
Koi presentation.
Koi client call.
Koi project.
Main har kisi ki help kar deta.
College ki aadat office mein bhi saath aa gayi thi.
Ek senior mazaak mein bolte the,
“Rohan se pooch lo.
Uske paas har problem ka solution hota hai.”
Us waqt woh compliment lagta tha.
Aaj sochta hoon…
Kabhi-kabhi log tumhe problem solver bana dete hain.
Aur phir dheere-dheere sab maan lete hain…
Ki tumhari life mein problems hoti hi nahi.
Office ke baad hum chaar dost roz chai peene jaate the.
Ek Karnataka se.
Ek Punjab se.
Ek Odisha se.
Aur main Gujarat se.
Language alag.
Food alag.
Culture alag.
Lekin sapne sabke almost same the.
Parents ko proud feel karwana.
Apna ghar lena.
Life mein settle hona.
Us waqt “settle hona” kitna simple lagta tha.
Aaj 37 saal ki age mein bhi kabhi-kabhi sochta hoon…
Insaan exactly kis din settle hota hai?
Pehle do saal kaise nikal gaye pata hi nahi chala.
Projects badle.
Managers badle.
Company ke floors badle.
Laptop badla.
Phone badla.
Salary badhi.
Lekin ek cheez dheere-dheere kam hone lagi.
Ghar jaana.
Pehle har festival par chala jaata tha.
Phir sirf Diwali.
Phir alternate Diwali.
Kabhi project.
Kabhi deadline.
Kabhi client visit.
Har baar ek wajah hoti thi.
Aur har baar mummy wahi kehti,
“Koi baat nahi… kaam pehle.”
Lekin video call band hone ke baad…
Mujhe hamesha lagta tha…
Ye “koi baat nahi” shayad sach nahi tha.
Ek baar office se chhutti lekar bina bataye ghar pahunch gaya.
Doorbell bajayi.
Papa ne darwaza khola.
Do second tak woh mujhe dekhte rahe.
Phir bole,
“Arre… tu?”
Unke chehre par jo surprise tha…
Usse zyada khushi maine bahut kam dekhi hai.
Mummy kitchen se bhaag kar aayi.
Unhone pehla sawaal ye nahi poocha ki kab aaya.
Unhone sirf itna poocha,
“Khana khaya?”
Main zor se hans pada.
Lagbhag das saal ho gaye the.
Unka pehla sawaal ab bhi wahi tha.
Us shaam humne bahar jaakar dinner nahi kiya.
Na koi celebration hua.
Bas ghar ka normal khaana tha.
Dal.
Aloo ki sabzi.
Roti.
Dahi.
Aur dining table par chaar log.
Us dinner mein koi luxury nahi thi.
Lekin aaj tak maine usse mehenga dinner kabhi nahi khaya.
Us raat terrace par khada tha.
Poora mohalla waise hi tha.
Lekin kuch gharon ke gate badal gaye the.
Kuch bachche bade ho gaye the.
Kuch uncle dikhna band ho gaye the.
Tab pehli baar realise hua…
Hum sirf bade nahi hote.
Hamari yaadein bhi dheere-dheere purani ho jaati hain.
Aur ghar…
Woh wahi rehta hai.
Bas usmein rehne wale log badalte rehte hain.
Mujhe us waqt bilkul bhi andaaza nahi tha…
Ki agle kuch saal meri life ka sabse mushkil chapter lekar aane wale the.
Career badhega.
Responsibility badhegi.
Aur ek din…
Main ghar ko sirf miss nahi karunga.
Main usse samajhna shuru kar dunga.
Leave Your Footprint
"I lived this." "I relate." "My father was exactly like this." Say what this stirred in you.