Diva - Our first dog

Chasing unfinished dreams

 

When I started my MBA two years ago, it was more about fulfilling an unfinished dream—something I had left behind 16 years ago when I got accepted at IIMB but couldn’t join as amma passed a week before the joining date. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to complete it this time.

The journey turned out to be so much tougher than I ever imagined. Between work pressures, family responsibilities, and everything life threw at me, there were moments I wondered how I’d keep going. Client visits and product proposals crowded my days, Hachi’s passing came right in the middle of my third-semester exams. But the hardest blow was in the last stretch of the program—submitting my project from a hospital room while Acchan was admitted, and then losing him right in the middle of my final exams. My viva fell on the day of his 10th-day ceremony. Somehow, I managed to get through it all and at that point, all I felt was relief and gratitude that I had simply finished.

So when I got the invitation for an in-person convocation—reserved only for the top 10% of the program—I was more than surprised, I was shocked. I had to read it twice to believe it.

And since this was my first-ever formal convocation, it felt surreal. These days, there are graduation ceremonies even for kindergarten, but standing there as a postgraduate 25 years after my first graduation made it feel truly precious.A circle closing. A dream finally finished.

I just hope the next milestone doesn’t take me quite as long.. ❤️

25 years in software: A journey that almost didn’t happen

 Looking back, it feels surreal that my journey in the software industry began exactly 25 years ago.

In the early '90s, during my school years, there was a significant taboo around girls pursuing engineering. The number of female students in engineering colleges was extremely low. So, when it came time to choose a stream after the 10th grade for PUC (or "pre-degree," as it was called back then), most of us were either encouraged or outright pressured to opt for medicine. The prevailing belief was that engineering was a male-dominated field and not suitable for girls. Whether I loved math or despised biology didn’t matter—it was simply expected that girls would take the medical route. However, things changed drastically in just a few years. Even those who had strongly advised me against engineering ended up sending their own daughters to engineering colleges. Looking back, I believe the rise of the software industry played a crucial role in shifting this mindset.

I'm so glad I followed my instincts and chose the math stream. At the time, studying outside the state was simply out of the question, which meant IITs or BITS where my cousins went were not even a consideration for me. Even RECs were seen as a second option as there was an engineering college nearby. I initially secured admission at REC Calicut (now NIT Calicut), but 1 month later when Kerala's state admissions began, I was made to transfer to GECT. The struggle didn’t end there; finding a job outside our hometown was just as challenging. Campus placements were rare or nonexistent in most colleges, so securing a job meant either relying on third-party agencies or directly approaching companies with vacancies. 

To compensate for my disappointment of not studying at REC, my parents enrolled me in a three-year course at NIIT alongside my engineering studies. Little did I know, this parallel course would change my destiny. While my college curriculum only covered FORTRAN, NIIT introduced me to a range of modern programming languages. The course structure also required me to complete my fourth semester in a metro city, followed by a year of professional practice. The day after my engineering final semester viva, I was on a train to Bangalore to complete my NIIT course. But my time there came with a strict condition—I was given exactly six months to finish and return home. The reason? To get married. Because, at that time, a girl’s career was always secondary.

During those six months, I applied for several fresher roles and cleared every written test I attempted. But interviews? That was another story. I didn’t get through even a single one. Not because I lacked technical knowledge, but because I couldn’t express myself well enough. I wasn’t fluent in English, and most interviews were quick, group discussions or rapid-fire 15-minute sessions where confidence mattered more than depth of knowledge. Once my NIIT semester ended in February, my mother had given me one month to wrap things up and return home before April 1st, my grandmother’s death anniversary. Resigned to my fate, I was preparing to leave when, on March 22nd, I got an unexpected opportunity—two written tests on the same day: one at Siemens (8 AM) and another at Robert Bosch (2 PM). I decided to take both, assuming they would just be aptitude tests with no immediate interviews.

Siemens had a tough aptitude test, and out of all the candidates, only five of us got shortlisted. My friends didn’t make it through, so we planned to meet at Bosch for the afternoon test. Expecting the usual short interview, I figured I had plenty of time. But I was wrong. I was called in promptly and handed a whiteboard and a C++ problem to solve. What I thought would be a 15-minute discussion turned into a 2.5-hour deep-dive technical session. The interviewer didn’t just test my theoretical knowledge—he wanted to see if I truly understood programming concepts and could write actual code. That moment shaped how I viewed technical interviews for the rest of my career. Since then, I’ve always believed that a true assessment of a candidate should involve giving them a pen, paper, and a problem to solve—not just theory-based questions to test memory or language fluency.

By the time my technical round ended, it was 12:30 PM. The HR asked me to have lunch in the canteen and return for the next round in the afternoon. But I told them I couldn't—I had another test at Bosch at 2 PM. My response surprised them. It was rare for a fresher to be open about juggling multiple opportunities. Recognizing my urgency, the HR scheduled my interview immediately. Unlike today’s standard HR interviews, this one lasted an hour and was more of a psychometric test—assessing my capabilities, preferences, attitude, and overall fit for the company. Back then, a lot of candidates were rejected in the HR round if they weren’t considered the right cultural fit. I remember how this process became diluted over time as the company grew rapidly.

After the HR round, I rushed to Bosch, cleared their test, and was scheduled for interviews on March 31st. However, fate had other plans. On March 24th, Siemens made me an offer and asked me to join immediately. Since I had already accepted, I didn’t proceed with Bosch. And just like that, my career in software began—exactly 25 years ago today. I became the first girl in my family to step out and pursue a career before marriage.

Looking back, I realize how different my life could have been. If I hadn’t taken that NIIT course, if I hadn’t stayed back for those extra days in March, this journey might never have happened. The industry has evolved in unimaginable ways over the last 25 years. But the biggest lesson I’ve carried with me is this: Sometimes, all it takes is one opportunity—and the courage to seize it.

(To be continued)

2024 Roundup, 2025 Hopes

If I had to sum up 2024 in one word, it would be "exhausting". It truly was one of the most tiring years of my life, marked by the challenges of managing Acchan's nocturnal dementia—sleepless nights, erratic behavior, and the emotional toll it took on everyone and the countless back-and-forth travels between Kochi, Thrissur, Palakkad, and Ottapalam. The primary motivation for moving to Kochi was to reduce travel and be present in the office more often. However, all those plans went awry when Acchan vehemently refused to move to Kochi with us. In hindsight, I was asking Ram yesterday if it was one of his intuitions, as his death happened in Kochi. It was a similar case with Amma, who refused to get treated or admitted to Amala after her diagnosis, only to end up being referred there from Jubilee Mission on her last day. I feel the way our subconscious minds or intuitions perceive things is beyond my comprehension.

We are now entering the new year with two fewer beings than last year. While welcoming Alex has filled the void left by Hachi to some extent, the void that Acchan left is impossible to fill. With Acchan's passing, we lost our only living parent figure. It feels like the end of a protective layer that once shielded us, leaving us feeling exposed and on our own.  

The difficult part is that 2024 has taken away many more near and dear ones, many of them totally unexpected. It feels scary at times. 

Of course, no year goes by without its share of happy moments— reunions both family and friends, completing my MBA, and some of our quick getaways all remain the happy parts of 2024. 

Surviving 2024 feels like a big achievement. It was a tough year, but we made it through, and it taught us to keep going and appreciate the moments we have. As we step into 2025, my hopes are focused on regaining my health, getting back to travel and exploring new places, and finding ways to express myself more creatively.