Privilege Of Pressure

The Hidden Architecture Of Becoming

The Introspective

There are moments in life that quietly divide us into two versions of ourselves.

The person we were before everything changed.

And the person we slowly turned into because of it.

For some, those moments arrive through failure. For others, through uncertainty, responsibility, loss, or the quiet weight of expectations. The circumstances are never the same, but the questions they leave behind often are.

Looking back, we rarely remember only the event itself. We remember who we became while trying to survive it.

Every journey through pressure begins differently.

This is one of them.

---

End Is The Begining

"We suffer more often in imagination than in reality."

— Lucius Annaeus Seneca

My life has never been as picture perfect as people imagined it to be.

Like everyone else, I have lived through moments of uncertainty, family struggles, and fears so overwhelming that they convinced me life had reached a dead end. In those moments, it felt as though everything I had worked towards had collapsed in front of me. There was no way forward, no second chance, no new beginning.

Looking back now, I realise how wrong I was.

This chapter isn't about one such moment, but three. Three occasions when I genuinely believed my life had come to an end, only to discover much later that each ending was merely an intersection leading me towards another chapter I had never imagined.

If there is one lesson these experiences have taught me, it is that pressure, despite how cruel it may seem, is often a privilege. It means there is still something worth fighting for.

The first of these episodes, or as I prefer to call it, was "The End of an Era."

It was the day I walked out of my school after my final Class 10 board examination.

For over ten years, that campus had been my second home. Yet, as I stepped out through those gates, I wasn't overwhelmed by nostalgia. I was overwhelmed by uncertainty.

The pressure of the board examinations had consumed me for months. Our syllabus consisted of nearly ten subjects, two of which were English—subjects I genuinely enjoyed. History, Geography and English had always felt natural to me. Mathematics and Science, however, belonged to an entirely different universe.

No matter how sincerely I tried, those two subjects refused to become my friends.

While many of my classmates comfortably scored well in the preliminary examinations, I constantly found myself lagging behind. Everyone around me seemed to possess a clear roadmap for life after school. Some spoke confidently about engineering, others about medicine or commerce. I, on the other hand, hadn't even figured out what I wanted from the next two years of my life.

Perhaps I simply wasn't mature enough then.

Or perhaps Mathematics and Science were never meant to be my strongest suit.

The board examinations themselves became one of the most stressful periods of my life not merely because they were public examinations, but because very few people genuinely believed I would clear them.

My teachers had their doubts.

Even my parents worried whether I would secure enough theory marks to pass.

Compared to many of my classmates, I had invested far more time in friendships, drama, relationships and everything that came with adolescence than I had in textbooks.

But something changed during those final weeks.

I decided that if I was going to fail, I would fail after giving it everything I had.

I poured whatever determination remained in me into Mathematics and Science. Science itself felt like three different mountains waiting to be climbed—Physics, Chemistry and the mighty Biology, which somehow seemed just as intimidating for someone naturally inclined towards technology.

Fortunately, those prayers and sleepless nights weren't wasted.

When the results were finally announced, I still remember staring at the screen with my heart pounding against my chest.

What if Mathematics had betrayed me?

What if Chemistry had pushed me below the passing mark?

For a few unbearable seconds, every terrifying possibility crossed my mind. My stomach churned, my hands trembled, and anxiety spoke louder than reason.

Then I saw it.

I passed.

Not only had I passed, but I had scored over eighty percent in the ICSE curriculum

a syllabus widely regarded as one of the more demanding ones in the country.

The relief I felt is difficult to describe.

My parents were proud.

My teachers were pleasantly surprised.

Everyone around me seemed happy.

Ironically, I wasn't.

Clearing the examinations had solved one problem but created another.

For the first time in over a decade, I no longer belonged to the place that had shaped most of my childhood. School was over. The familiar corridors, classrooms and routines had quietly become memories.

I knew I had to move on. What I didn't know was where I was supposed to go next.

There were pre-university colleges.

There were schools offering higher secondary education.

There were countless paths ahead of me.

The only problem was that I had absolutely no idea which one belonged to me.

The second chapter of this story begins in 2024.

Although I had completed my Class 10 examinations in 2023, I couldn't attend the 2023–24 academic year because of an incident that deserves a chapter of its own. By the time 2024 arrived, I was exactly where I had been a year earlier lost.

I still had no clarity about my future.

While my classmates had begun moving ahead with their lives, I found myself at home, watching time pass and wondering where I belonged. It felt as though the gap year had given me nothing except more questions than answers.

Eventually, like a fish out of water, I joined what I now consider one of the worst decisions my parents and I ever made.

Officially, it was a pre-university college.

In reality, it felt like a factory producing engineering and medical aspirants.

Academics seemed secondary; everything revolved around entrance examinations. Students were pushed towards JEE and NEET, often with additional fees attached. Without giving it much thought, I enrolled for JEE as well.

Looking back, I would place that decision alongside the first.

Yet, I have also learnt that some of life's worst decisions quietly become the reason for its best lessons.

I've always believed that God allows certain roads into our lives for reasons we fail to understand at the time.

That institution broke me in ways I had never expected.

Ironically, it was also where I learnt some of my most valuable lessons, not from textbooks, but from people.

It taught me how fragile friendships could be.

How quickly relationships could change.

How temporary so many human connections really are.

There were days when I questioned everything.

One entire gap year... only to end up here?

Was this really what my life had been leading towards?

If one year couldn't give me clarity, what would the next five look like?

Those questions slowly turned into anxiety.

Then anxiety turned into overthinking.

Every small uncertainty felt enormous.

Fortunately, attendance wasn't a major issue there, and despite everything, I managed to complete the academic year and sit for my final examinations with a low attendance percentage.

I finished with around sixty percent.

Under normal circumstances, I might have been disappointed. Instead, I felt relieved.

Those marks represented survival more than achievement.

I had endured an environment that, to this day, I describe as a butcherhouse rather than an educational institution.

Despite everything, I formed friendships there.

Some of them became meaningful.

Some of them became unforgettable

And one of them eventually changed the course of my life.

I had made mistakes.

I was far from being an ideal student, and I take responsibility for that.

Following one particular incident, I found myself labelled a "spoilt brat" and a "rogue."

Those words hurt far more than I admitted at the time.

The humiliation lingered long after the incident itself had passed.

Eventually, I healed from the embarrassment.

But by then, it was already too late.

Life had once again convinced me that another chapter had come to an end.

The third time I truly believed my life had come to an end began on the night of that incident.

I had been suspended until further notice (Read the memoir titled “Main Character Energy” from Wild Goose Chase for more insight on the incident)

The punishment itself wasn't what frightened me the most.

It was everything that followed.

I had no idea where I would study next.

My future suddenly became uncertain once again, and for the second time in just a few years, I found myself wondering whether my education had ended for good.

For a while, even my parents weren't willing to continue my studies. They were firm in their decision, and I couldn't entirely blame them. I had made a mistake, and mistakes have consequences.

Time, however, has a remarkable way of softening even the hardest decisions.

Fortunately, the incident had taken place early in the academic year, which meant I wouldn't lose another year of education. Even my conduct certificate, something I had feared endlessly, simply mentioned "Good." That single word meant I could still seek admission elsewhere.

After nearly two months of anxiety, panic attacks, sleepless nights and countless prayers, I finally received admission into an integrated JEE programme, where I could complete my Class 12 education.

Receiving that admission felt nothing short of a miracle.

Just weeks earlier, I had convinced myself that everything was over.

I had been humiliated.

I had been suspended.

I had watched every certainty disappear

And yet, somehow, another door quietly opened.

That was the first time I truly understood that what feels like an ending is often nothing more than life changing direction.

By August, I had settled into my new routine.

Classes at school were limited to two days a week, while the remaining days were spent at the coaching centre.

Ironically, the coaching centre felt like heaven.

The school, however, felt like hell.

After spending an entire year in a rigid and toxic environment, the freedom I experienced at the coaching centre was intoxicating. I embraced it wholeheartedly.

Perhaps a little too wholeheartedly.

I enjoyed life

I made friends

I laughed more than I had in months

Unfortunately, I also neglected the very reason I was there

If I'm being truthful, I was never really a JEE aspirant

I never gave the examination the commitment it demanded. Not even ten percent.

In chasing freedom, I became careless with my studies.

The consequences arrived quickly.

I failed almost every class test and preliminary examination, and by the time the board examinations approached, I knew I wasn't prepared.

Attendance became another challenge.

Since I had joined late, the school required me to compensate for every missed class by spending hours in the library. I remember completing nearly fifty hours there simply to fulfil the attendance requirement.

Even then, life refused to slow down.

By January, everything arrived at once.

JEE

State engineering entrance examinations

Practical examinations

Record submissions

Board examinations

Every week brought another deadline.

Every day felt like another race against time.

Looking back, I can confidently say that the months between January and April of 2026 were among the most chaotic periods of my life.

Even after the board examinations ended, there was no relief.

There were improvement examinations

Then came university applications

Interviews

Entrance tests

One uncertainty simply replaced another.

Somewhere in the middle of all this chaos, I finally admitted something to myself that I had been avoiding for a long time.

Engineering wasn't meant for me.

For years, I had tried convincing myself otherwise.

Now, for the first time, I accepted it.

Instead of forcing myself down a path that never truly felt like mine, I chose another.

Architecture

It meant preparing for an entirely different entrance examination while everyone around me continued chasing engineering.

Surprisingly, among all the entrance examinations I had written over the years, architecture turned out to be one of the very few that I actually cleared.

Life has an odd sense of humour.

The subjects I feared the most never defined me.

The career I once imagined for myself never became mine.

Instead, I found myself walking towards something I had never seriously considered before.

During those months, I often wondered if perhaps this was simply my fate.

What if I never made it to a university?

What if the gap year would define the rest of my life?

What if I was destined to remain behind while everyone else moved ahead?

Those thoughts felt painfully real at the time.

Today, they feel almost laughable. Because once again, life surprised me.

A top-tier university interviewed me.

They believed in me

And they offered me admission to study Architecture.

As I write these words, I am still waiting for my university classes to begin.

Looking back now, I can't help but smile at the irony of it all.

How many nights did I spend overthinking?

How many prayers were whispered in fear?

How many panic attacks convinced me that everything had come to an end?

And after all that, life handed me an ending so ordinary, so hopeful, and almost cliché, that I never could have imagined it while I was living through the storm.

Perhaps that is the greatest lesson these years have taught me.

Life rarely ends where we think it does.

What appears to be a dead end is often nothing more than a bend in the road.

Every failure I mourned

Every humiliation I carried

Every closed door I stood before

Each one quietly redirected me towards another beginning

I don't expect life to become easier from here

There will be more setbacks.

More disappointments

More endings

But if these years have given me anything, they have given me resilience, the quiet confidence that every ending carries within it the possibility of another beginning.

Because, in my life at least, an end has never truly been an end.

It has always been the beginning.

---

Privilege Of Pressure

Pressure is usually remembered as a single moment.

An examination.

A result.

A difficult decision.

But looking back, it rarely arrives that way.

It builds quietly, one chapter at a time. Long before we realise it, it begins changing the way we think, the choices we make, and eventually, the person we become.

Reading Wild Goose Chase’s story, what stayed with me wasn’t just the struggle itself. It was how every chapter brought a different kind of pressure. The situation changed, but one question kept following him:

Will I be enough?

Maybe that’s what pressure really does.

It doesn’t just test our ability to keep going. It slowly changes the way we see ourselves. The same experience can break one person and strengthen another. Often, the difference isn’t the situation itself, but the meaning we give it.

Perhaps that’s why Billie Jean King’s words still feel true:

“Pressure is a privilege.”

Not because pressure feels good, but because it usually appears when life is asking something more from us.

Sometimes the biggest victory isn’t the result.

It’s quietly becoming someone you couldn’t have been without those difficult seasons.

---

After The Storm

There is a strange solitude that follows every storm.

Not relief. Not celebration. Not even happiness of survival.

Just you, standing in the debris, trying to figure out whether life has ended—or quietly begun again.

For a long time, I mistook pressure for punishment.

Every disappointment felt personal. Every rejection felt permanent. I kept asking, "God! Why me?" without realizing I was asking the wrong question.

The better question was always,

"What is this trying to make of me?"

Pressure has an odd way of stripping away everything borrowed. It doesn't care about appearances, expectations, or the version of yourself you've carefully performed for the world. It leaves only what is real.

That isn't cruelty

It is what I consider “God's clarity about human beings”

Its his way of telling “Pretense attitude towards life won't get you anywhere, it will only take you this far! No restart! I'll give you a second chance!”

While writing my collection of memoirs titled “Wild Goose Chase”, I noticed something curious. Whether I was reliving the reckless freedom of The Escapade, the quiet ache of She Never Knew, the illusion of Main Character Energy, or the chaos of The Hilltop Swashbuckle, every chapter looked different on the surface.

Yet underneath, they were all telling the same story.

A young boy learning that growth rarely arrives looking like growth.

It arrives disguised as embarrassment.

Failure

Humiliation

Loneliness

Unanswered prayers

Adventure

The chapter End Is the Beginning taught me that better than any other.

At the time, I genuinely believed my life was collapsing.

Looking back, life wasn't destroying me.

It was editing me.

We often think privilege is having an easy life.

I'm beginning to think there's another kind.

The privilege of pressure.

The privilege of being forced to confront yourself before success introduces you to the world.

Not everyone gets that opportunity.

Some people are never asked enough of themselves.

One of them is my very own uncle.

He failed twelfth, but no one really expected him to finish school anyway. ‘Film making’ & Cinema was all he ever loved. He left home chasing the dream of becoming a film director, spent more than a decade drifting through the industry, and is still, by every conventional measure, a nobody.

The search itself became his life.

It took him across India, into Nepal, and eventually to Auroville in Pondicherry, where he still carries that same carefree spirit I've known since childhood.

I genuinely like him.

He's kind, curious, rational (a tad little bit of an anarchist) and wonderfully unburdened by the world's obsession with jobs & status.

But I have never wanted to become him.

Not because he failed.

Because no one ever demanded enough from him.

Growing up, I was constantly told, "Don't end up like your uncle." Back then, I thought it was simply about success. Today, I think it was about something deeper.

Purpose

Pressure

Responsibility

Sometimes love isn't found in lowering expectations

Sometimes it's found in raising them

Raising the bars, Pushing limits & Relentlessly Pursuing

Seneca writes, "We suffer more often in imagination than in reality."

The older I get, the more I realize he was right.

Most of the monsters I feared never arrived.

But the lessons did. Better understanding of the concept of God indeed did

And I'm grateful they came wearing storms. Because storms don't only destroy or annihilate.

Sometimes they clear the landscape for something stronger & long lasting.

Maybe that's why the silence after the storm feels different.

You aren't returning to the person you once were.

You're meeting the person the pressure was patiently creating all along.

My ‘wild goose chase’ wouldn't end just like that, it's only beginning right from wherever the previous chapter ended.

---

The Legacy

There's a scene in Bangalore Days where Dulquer Salmaan reflects on how life has become a pressure cooker where we're expected to study, work, marry, have children, and quietly pass the same script to the next generation as Pressure Cooker Season Two

That thought has stayed with us.

Legacy isn’t the wealth we leave behind or the surname we pass on.

It’s whether we had the courage to question the script before handing it to the next generations.

If Wild Goose Chase and DAXIOM stands for anything, We hope it’s this:

Don’t inherit a life.

Choose one, but with Intent & Conviction.

That is the kind of life which builds a legacy.

---

Music While Writing This Article :

---

Disclaimer

This collaborative piece includes inspiration from online research, Pinterest references, and a dialogue and still from Bangalore Days.

We sincerely acknowledge and thank the original creators whose work inspired portions of this article.

---