Re-thinking Life
Dear
I would love to take you to the mountains. By now, you must know how much they mean to me, how much I adore them. How could you not be enthralled by them? They are peaceful, majestic, endlessly beautiful, and rank at the top amongst the best things that nature has to offer. But I'm tired of going there alone. Tired of sending pictures and videos, trying to capture what they give me —rarely can I call you to show what I appreciate, what calms the chaos, and what holds me together in my chosen lonely life. And yet, even in the mountains, where my heart feels most at home in this unknown place, I know where my gaze would rest — on you. The most beautiful face I have ever seen. It would be impossible not to look. If I had the freedom to do anything in this life without the weight of the world pressing in, it would be this: sitting beside you, lost in the depth of your eyes, the curve of your lips, the way your smile escapes without warning, and penning down all things within my mind.
Sadly, I've been carrying things inside me for quite some time, bottling them up until they finally started spilling over. It may not seem like much from the outside, but inside, it has been damaging. I had published a top-tier research paper. I truly believed it would make a game-changing difference in the field. Foolish me. I thought it would shift perspectives and drive numerous meaningful changes. I put everything into that work—not just the research itself, but the effort to make it known. And then… the impact wasn't what I had expected. While people acknowledged it, it didn't lead to the grand changes I had hoped for. Further, I was so confident in its impact that I didn't apply to multiple graduate schools. I thought my research and other factors would make me an elite applicant. It didn't. These setbacks hit harder than I expected. Had all my effort simply vanished into thin air? Just like that? Pfft! The disappointment drained me. I was demotivated. My passion for research, once so strong, started fading. I stopped experimenting with new ideas and stopped pushing myself. Days turned into weeks, then months. A lingering thought took root —what's the point? Even if I publish something else, will it change anything? Or will it be just another insignificant contribution, a speck of dust in the world of sand? I stopped writing on my blog. Who would read it? What difference would it make? I turned to distractions to escape the frustration, but they only dragged me deeper, creating a vicious cycle. Everything in my life was affected by this. I convinced myself that a change of scenery would fix things. At first, it did. I felt re-energized and motivated. But within a few months, the same old thoughts crept back in —because the problem wasn't where I was. It was within my mind. I wasn't confident. I wasn't motivated. I was frustrated. I was sad. From the outside, it may seem trivial —something a 24-year-old should have figured out by now. But I hadn't. I had always believed that my efforts would translate into impactful, tangible results as I grew. Either my efforts were too small in this world, or perhaps they had no effect. I can't put everything in this letter, but this is a glimpse of it, and we'll talk more when we meet.
How about we kick things off in Montreux? We'll hop on the Golden Pass train to Interlaken, soaking in all those stunning views. Once we arrive, we'll take to the skies —paragliding over Interlaken, feeling the rush of the wind and the thrill of floating above the mountains. Then, a scenic train ride to Grindelwald, where we'll lace up our hiking boots and set off on a breathtaking trail to Meiringen, passing by the postcard-perfect landscapes of Rosenlaui. And if you come in winter? Then it's all about the Glacier Express to Zermatt, where we'll relish the snow on some of the best ski slopes in the world. After that, we'll slow down with some peaceful winter hiking in Bettmeralp, where the silence of the snow-covered trails will be just as magical. I know I'm rambling and, to some extent, not planning practically — my excitement is getting ahead of me. But honestly, I'd do all this and more with you in a heartbeat. You might start thinking Switzerland is paying me to pitch this, but no, I can't get enough of this country's beauty. The photos and videos I send don't even come close to capturing it. You have to see it for yourself. All you need to do is hop on a flight to Geneva, and I will take care of everything else.
Understandably, this is something deep-rooted. I need to rewire my mindset to the younger days — when I found happiness in the process itself rather than tying it to expectations of impact, recognition, or validation. I had lost sight of why I started in the first place. I used to do things because I loved them, but somewhere along the way, I started measuring their worth by how others responded. It is also essential, I agree, but secondary and shouldn't be the deciding factor. Looking back, I realize my works haven't gone unnoticed —some people have found value in it and even applied it in ways I hadn't expected. And in the midst of all this, I forgot that I used to write not just for an audience but for myself and the people who truly matter to me. Maybe that's where I need to return— to doing things for the love of them and because I have an opportunity to do them without constantly questioning the outcome. Maybe that's where I find my way forward. I would end this letter with what Lord Shri Krishna said in Kurukshetra before the Mahabharata battle: "He Parth, karm ke prati phal ki chesta naa karo. Tum toh kewal wohi karo jo tumhare vash mein hai. Karm ka parinaam manushya ki vash mein nahi hai." Love you lots. Thank you —for everything.
(English translation—O Arjun, do not seek rewards for your actions. Your duty is only to act, to do what is within your control. The outcome of your actions is not in your hands.)
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