I was born in 1994 into a family that was rich in values but short on everything else. My father was a school teacher — a man who never earned much but walked through his town like a king, because everyone knew him, respected him, and trusted him. My mother held the house together in ways only Indian mothers know how. I was the middle child, often sick, often home. But being home meant I read everything I could get my hands on, studied on my own, and somehow kept finishing first or second in my class. Growing up watching my parents stretch every rupee taught me something no textbook ever could — that the things worth having are the things you fight for.
That belief was put to the test during a science exam I was completely unprepared for. I had been too sick to study, and I sat there staring at the paper, tears rolling down, convinced this was the day my streak ended. Then my science teacher walked over, leaned in, and said something I carry with me to this day: "You sat in my class. You listened. You understood. Now stop crying and write what you know — in your own words. If I can understand it, you get the marks." I wrote. I scored 95%. That was the day I stopped trying to memorize the world and started trying to understand it.
But not every lesson came from a classroom. I wanted a bicycle for as long as I could remember. We couldn't afford one, so I learned to ride on borrowed ones — a friend's bike here, a neighbor's there. After years of asking, my father struck a deal: score above 500 in my 10th standard exams, and he would find a way. I scored 499. A year later, he managed to get me one anyway. I was bedridden for a month and couldn't touch it. When I finally rode it, I had five days of pure joy — and then someone stole it. Standing there with nothing again, I made a quiet promise to myself: I will never depend on anyone for anything. What I earn with my own hands, that stays.
That promise carried me through every obstacle that followed. My schooling was free, made possible by my father's friends who believed in education and quietly supported our family. For engineering, I worked part-time to fund myself — nobody asked me to, but I knew what it cost my family for me to be in that classroom. From my second year onward, I started teaching fellow students subjects I had self-learned — Control Systems, Embedded Systems, Microprocessors, Digital Signal Processing — not for money, but because explaining something is the best way to truly understand it. When it came time for my Post Graduate Diploma at CDAC Kolkata, my mother pledged her only gold jewelry to cover the course fee. I promised myself I would make every rupee of that sacrifice count.
The day I got my first job at Continental, something shifted. I wasn't just building a career anymore — I was clearing loans, funding my sister's education, and making sure my parents never had to worry again. That responsibility has never stopped, and I carry it with pride. At work, the shy kid from a small town slowly grew into someone people relied on. I kept solving problems nobody asked me to solve, and over six years I collected 15 spot awards — not because I chased them, but because I couldn't walk past something broken without fixing it. Before I left, I was selected for the Train the Trainer program — an India-wide initiative across all Continental locations. I was paired with the plant head in Gurgaon, where together we explored ideas for digital transformation: improving infrastructure, creating recreation rooms for plant workers, introducing the latest technologies, and finding fresh ways to motivate people on the factory floor. I trained 4+ deputies across teams, making sure nothing fell apart when I moved on.
In 2022, I packed my life into two suitcases and moved to Germany. At Marquardt GmbH, I design and maintain tools for the Software Product Line Engineering platform — building automation that saves teams days of manual work, replacing expensive commercial tools with custom Python solutions, and conducting trainings that help colleagues ship better software. Every tool I build carries the same philosophy: if someone has to do it manually twice, it should be automated forever.
I am driven by curiosity, shaped by struggle, and always learning. Whether it is build systems, software architecture, design patterns, automation, or a new recipe in the kitchen — I don't stop until I understand how it works. And at the end of every month, when I see my family standing on their own feet because I didn't give up — that's the reward no spot award will ever match.