"The Late Bloomer"

At the age of 32, Aman Khan realized that his life had become automated.

Every morning was the same: he would wake up to the sound of his alarm, browse social media for 20 minutes, force himself to do the same IT job he had been doing for the past 9 years, and come home feeling... apathetic.

He didn’t feel unhappy. But, he wasn’t satisfied either. He found himself stuck in the middle – patient, not prosperous.

It seemed like everyone around him was doing everything for him. His childhood friend Rishi had started a thriving digital marketing firm. His college roommate had a wife, two children, and had recently bought a house in Goa. His younger cousin was traveling the world as a full-time content creator. And what about Aman? He found himself solving problems with someone else’s code while eating frozen parathas in the middle of the night.

Then one day, the incident took its toll on him.

It was a typical Thursday. As she was leaving a grueling Zoom meeting, she received an email: “Congratulations on a decade with the company!” It came with a digital certificate and a voucher for a free coffee mug.

A decade.

Ten years.

And what did she get in return?

Aman stared at the display for a long time. Without thinking much, she closed her laptop, picked up a notebook, and left her apartment.

She sat down on a bench in a nearby park, opened her notebook, and wrote across the page: “What do I want from life?”

For the first time in years, she allowed herself to think openly, without fear or judgment. She wrote down all her thoughts—her youthful desire to write a book, her passion for photography, her long-standing desire to explore alone, and how excited she was about something else.

It wasn’t a magical transformation that happened instantly. Yet the seed had been sown in that moment.

In the weeks that followed, Aman implemented small changes.

He started getting up 30 minutes earlier to write. Just a few paragraphs a day. He started sharing his photos on Instagram—not for likes, but to express himself. He joined a local writing group and submitted his short stories. They weren’t flawless, but they were his.

He kept his IT job, but his days no longer felt dull. He had something to look forward to. A motivation to get up.

People close to him noticed the change, too. “You seem to have changed,” his colleague commented one day. “More cheerful.”

By the time Aman was 34, he had completed the first draft of his book. It wasn’t a bestseller (at the time), but it was original. Something he had created solely from his own creativity.

However, this is an aspect that many motivational stories don’t mention: progress takes time. The question arises. Imposter syndrome arrives unexpectedly at your doorstep.

There were weeks when Aman didn’t write a word. There were moments when he questioned whether he was wasting his time. Yet whenever he thought about quitting his job, he would remember the emptiness he once felt. It served as his guide.

One day, out of the blue, he sent a short story to an online literary journal.

Two months later, he received an email: “We appreciated your work and would be thrilled to publish it in our next issue.”

He stared at the screen, almost stunned. He read the message probably five times. That evening, after eating biryani, he danced like a madman alone in his living room.

At the age of 35, Aman quit his job.

Not out of despair or hopelessness, but out of clarity.

She saved for over a year, developed a strategy, and gave herself six months to experiment with freelancing—writing, photography, and a few online tutoring jobs. She wasn’t rich. But she was still alive.

These days, when people ask her about her profession, she laughs and replies, “I tell stories.”

But the truth is, Aman didn’t just change her profession. She reinvented the story of her own existence.

The bottom line

It’s easy to think that if you don’t get your life in order by the age of 25 or 30, you’re a failure. But the reality is? Some people discover their passions quickly, while others take a little longer. That doesn’t make your journey any less meaningful—it makes it unique.

Maybe you’re like Aman—stuck in a rut, feeling like you’re “over it.” You might believe that your dreams are unattainable or that you’ve missed out on opportunities.

But, you haven’t.

It's always possible to start over. Not as long as you keep breathing and keep your emotions in check.

So, close your laptop. Go for a walk. Open a notepad.

Think about this question: "What do I really want from life?"

You might surprise yourself with the answer.