Chapter 4: Aditya—The Corporate Ladder

A young person entered Mumbai, and after graduating, vowed to make a name for himself. Imagine a young man—let’s call him Aditya—fresh out of IIT, suitcase in hand, standing on the bustling platforms of Mumbai Central. Like so many before him, he’s determined to make it big, to turn all those years of tuition classes and parental sacrifice into something meaningful. “Maa, I’ll make you proud,” he whispers into his phone, as the city’s chaos surges around him.

He landed a job at a large corporate office in Gurgaon and worked extremely hard, often staying late into the night. After a few months, Aditya finds himself in Gurgaon—air thick with ambition, glass towers glinting in the sun. Workdays stretch from 9 to 9; the office canteen’s samosas become his dinner. The AC hums as he pores over endless Excel sheets, while his friends send him memes he’s too tired to laugh at. He eats alone, scrolling through Zomato reviews, sometimes missing his mother’s rajma chawal.

He had almost no personal life. Even on weekends, he spent his time networking with clients, colleagues, and superiors over chai at fancy cafes. Weekends aren’t for rest—they’re for “building connections.” Over overpriced cappuccinos at Cyber Hub, he rubs shoulders with managers and HR heads, perfecting his handshake and his LinkedIn profile. His old friends joke, “Tu toh corporate ho gaya, bhai!” But Aditya can barely remember the last time he watched a match or just slept in.

After seven or eight years of hard work, he finally became a department head. Time blurs. Seven, eight years pass—promotions come with bouquets, cake in the conference room, and a polite email from the boss. Finally, Aditya is department head. His parents send laddoos to the office, his picture is up on the family WhatsApp group, and everyone says, “See, hard work always pays.” His mother lights a diya in the temple corner, whispering a prayer of thanks, even as she worries about his health.

This promotion brought even more responsibility and busyness. Sometimes he felt exhausted, often doubting himself and yearning to escape and live the life he truly wanted. But with the new title comes a new phone that never stops buzzing, calendars that never have a blank day. Aditya sometimes stares at his reflection in the elevator mirror, wondering if this is what he dreamt of at nineteen. Some nights, he scrolls through old photos, missing the silly, unstructured days of youth. The world praises him, but his heart grows heavier.

This describes the life of a friend of mine. He is not lacking in money, but feels that something is missing from his life. This is not just Aditya’s story—it’s the story of so many friends. The ones who did everything right, who checked every box, who have money but still feel a hollow space that no salary slip can fill. They buy things online, take quick holidays to Goa, but something deeper keeps tugging—a longing for a life less scripted, more real. Even surrounded by success, sometimes, Aditya feels like a stranger in his own story.