Chapter 1: Enter the Forest
Aadi grew up in a small town in Karnataka, the kind of place where careers were decided around tea shops and temple steps long before a student ever sat for exams. His parents, modest and hardworking, had pushed him toward engineering, the steady, respectable choice. Aadi had chosen civil engineering because it felt solid, real. Buildings, bridges, roads these were things you could touch, things that would stand long after you were gone.
Through four years of college, he worked hard. He wasn’t a topper, but he was steady and dependable about designing structures. Graduation day was supposed to be the start of something bigger. Yet, as months passed, job applications disappeared into silence. Aadi applied to construction firms, infrastructure companies, even smaller contractors through his relatives most didn’t respond, and those who did, wanted experience he didn’t yet have.
Civil engineering in India, despite the country’s rapid urban growth, was in a strange state. Reports showed freshers earning between ₹3.5 to ₹6.6 lakhs annually, but those opportunities were few and competitive. Many of his seniors whispered about waiting years for a breakthrough or shifting to unrelated jobs just to make ends meet. Aadi watched those numbers and stories with growing unease, and each rejection chipped away at his confidence.
Days blurred into weeks. His mornings were filled with job portals and resume edits; his evenings, with quiet guilt as he watched his parents hope fade into worry. His friends had scattered, some to jobs in metro cities, some to postgraduate studies, some still waiting like him. The house that once felt warm now carried the weight of expectation.
One evening, after yet another unanswered application, Aadi was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. That’s when he saw a post from his old friend Ashish, smiling ear to ear next to a brand-new bike he had just bought. The two had been close during their hostel days late-night canteen noodles, endless discussions about cricket and bikes, and long walks across campus even when exams felt like an impossible storm. Ashish had been the one who was always curious about computers, often tinkering with code. They had drifted since graduation.
For a moment, Aadi hesitated. What would he even say? He didn’t want to sound desperate. But loneliness can be louder than pride. He opened the chat window and typed: “Hey Ashish, it’s been a while. Congratulations on the New Bike”
The reply came within minutes. “Hi Aadi, Thanks man. What’s up?. Long time, Call me!.”
That night, Aadi and Ashish spoke for hours. They began with the usual nostalgia, college stories, hostel gossip, laughter about professors who had made their lives miserable. For a little while, Aadi felt lighter, as if the clock had rewound to simpler times. Then, gently, Ashish asked, “So how are you holding up?”
Aadi admitted the truth, the endless job hunt, the rejection emails, the way each day felt heavier than the last. Ashish listened without judgment. When Aadi finally paused, Ashish said, “I get it. It’s tough. I’ve seen others go through the same in different fields. But listen, have you thought about trying something new? Something like software?”
“Software?” Aadi repeated, skeptical. He had spent years buried in soil mechanics, surveying, and structural design. Computers were for assignments and the occasional movie. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“That’s the thing,” Ashish replied. “You don’t need to know everything at once. Nobody does. When I started, I barely understood the basics. But the industry is different, it’s growing, and there’s room for people who are curious and willing to learn.”
Aadi was quiet. The idea sounded impossible, yet something in Ashish’s voice made it feel less distant. Ashish continued, “Look, the tech industry here is massive. India already has more than 15 million developers on GitHub. By 2025, they say we’ll need over 2 million more professionals in areas like cloud, AI, DevOps. Companies are always looking for people who can learn and adapt. It’s not easy, but it’s not closed off either.”
The words sank in slowly. Aadi thought about his empty inbox, the unanswered calls, the textbooks stacked in the corner. For the first time in months, he felt a spark of possibility. Maybe he didn’t have to stay trapped in this cycle of waiting and hoping. Maybe, just maybe, he could step onto a different path.
“I’ll think about it,” Aadi said, his voice unsure but considering the possibility. “Tell me where to begin.”
And with that, Aadi’s journey into a new forest began not with certainty, but with the courage to take one step forward.
Aadi grew up in a small town in Karnataka, the kind of place where careers were decided around tea shops and temple steps long before a student ever sat for exams. His parents, modest and hardworking, had pushed him toward engineering, the steady, respectable choice. Aadi had chosen civil engineering because it felt solid, real. Buildings, bridges, roads these were things you could touch, things that would stand long after you were gone.
Through four years of college, he worked hard. He wasn’t a topper, but he was steady and dependable about designing structures. Graduation day was supposed to be the start of something bigger. Yet, as months passed, job applications disappeared into silence. Aadi applied to construction firms, infrastructure companies, even smaller contractors through his relatives most didn’t respond, and those who did, wanted experience he didn’t yet have.
Civil engineering in India, despite the country’s rapid urban growth, was in a strange state. Reports showed freshers earning between ₹3.5 to ₹6.6 lakhs annually, but those opportunities were few and competitive. Many of his seniors whispered about waiting years for a breakthrough or shifting to unrelated jobs just to make ends meet. Aadi watched those numbers and stories with growing unease, and each rejection chipped away at his confidence.
Days blurred into weeks. His mornings were filled with job portals and resume edits; his evenings, with quiet guilt as he watched his parents hope fade into worry. His friends had scattered, some to jobs in metro cities, some to postgraduate studies, some still waiting like him. The house that once felt warm now carried the weight of expectation.
One evening, after yet another unanswered application, Aadi was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. That’s when he saw a post from his old friend Ashish, smiling ear to ear next to a brand-new bike he had just bought. The two had been close during their hostel days late-night canteen noodles, endless discussions about cricket and bikes, and long walks across campus even when exams felt like an impossible storm. Ashish had been the one who was always curious about computers, often tinkering with code. They had drifted since graduation.
For a moment, Aadi hesitated. What would he even say? He didn’t want to sound desperate. But loneliness can be louder than pride. He opened the chat window and typed: “Hey Ashish, it’s been a while. Congratulations on the New Bike”
The reply came within minutes. “Hi Aadi, Thanks man. What’s up?. Long time, Call me!.”
That night, Aadi and Ashish spoke for hours. They began with the usual nostalgia, college stories, hostel gossip, laughter about professors who had made their lives miserable. For a little while, Aadi felt lighter, as if the clock had rewound to simpler times. Then, gently, Ashish asked, “So how are you holding up?”
Aadi admitted the truth, the endless job hunt, the rejection emails, the way each day felt heavier than the last. Ashish listened without judgment. When Aadi finally paused, Ashish said, “I get it. It’s tough. I’ve seen others go through the same in different fields. But listen, have you thought about trying something new? Something like software?”
“Software?” Aadi repeated, skeptical. He had spent years buried in soil mechanics, surveying, and structural design. Computers were for assignments and the occasional movie. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“That’s the thing,” Ashish replied. “You don’t need to know everything at once. Nobody does. When I started, I barely understood the basics. But the industry is different, it’s growing, and there’s room for people who are curious and willing to learn.”
Aadi was quiet. The idea sounded impossible, yet something in Ashish’s voice made it feel less distant. Ashish continued, “Look, the tech industry here is massive. India already has more than 15 million developers on GitHub. By 2025, they say we’ll need over 2 million more professionals in areas like cloud, AI, DevOps. Companies are always looking for people who can learn and adapt. It’s not easy, but it’s not closed off either.”
The words sank in slowly. Aadi thought about his empty inbox, the unanswered calls, the textbooks stacked in the corner. For the first time in months, he felt a spark of possibility. Maybe he didn’t have to stay trapped in this cycle of waiting and hoping. Maybe, just maybe, he could step onto a different path.
“I’ll think about it,” Aadi said, his voice unsure but considering the possibility. “Tell me where to begin.”
And with that, Aadi’s journey into a new forest began not with certainty, but with the courage to take one step forward.