Failure’s not a big deal—it’s a speed bump, not a dead end. In India, though, it can feel like the sky’s falling. One screw-up, and it’s not just your problem—it’s your family’s, your neighbors’, even the chaiwalas. Everyone’s got an opinion. At 31, I’ve figured out how to shrug it off, but that took time, a few bruises, and a lot of rethinking. Let’s break it down.
The First Job Search: From MBA High to Real-World Low
My first real tangle with failure came during my 2018 job search, and it’s a story in two acts: the MBA bubble and the chaos outside it. Back in business school, I was cruising—cleared two out of three interviews during placement season while still studying. The campus setup was cushy: structured rounds, predictable questions, a safety net of peers and profs. Then I graduated, stepped into the real world, and the ground shifted.
Out there, the level was different—brutal, unstructured, sink-or-swim. I started flubbing interviews left and right. Four rejections in a row, each one a slow burn. One time, I cleared the first round only to botch a case study so badly I couldn’t face my laptop for days—overanalyzed it, froze up, tanked. The shock wasn’t just the “no”s; it was the realization that my MBA swagger didn’t translate. In school, I’d been a contender; out here, I was a rookie getting schooled.
The spiral hit hard. After those four flops, I ghosted the process entirely—took a year-and-a-half hiatus, too rattled to keep swinging. Self-doubt crept in: Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I peaked in the classroom. A friend of mine had it rougher—15 or 20 trainwreck interviews over 14 months before he landed something solid. He had grit; I didn’t. I bailed after three months of rejection, convinced every “no” was a life sentence. That’s the Indian trap: we’re raised to think one failure’s the end, not a detour.
The comeback took time. In 2020, I shook off the rust—six months of prep, grinding through mock interviews, brushing-up skills I’d let slide. The flops kept coming—a couple of shaky rounds, one so bad I apologized mid-call—but I stayed in the ring. Then, a win: a job stuck. The kicker? The HR who hired me was the same one who’d passed on me in 2018. Full-circle moment. It wasn’t pretty, but it proved the road doesn’t vanish just because you stumble.
The Psychology of Failure: Why I Wish It on You
Here’s where I get weird: I wish failure on myself and others. Not out of spite—it’s not a curse, it’s a catalyst. In India, we treat failure like a plague—hide it, deny it, let it define you. I say bring it on. Why? Because it’s the fastest way to grow. Failure strips you bare—cuts through ego, overthinking, the paralyzing “what will people say?” spiral that chokes us here. It’s not masochism; it’s survival. You don’t get tough without a few scars.
Take the cultural lens. In the US, failure’s a badge of honor. Silicon Valley’s built on it—“fail fast, fail often,” they preach. Hotmail’s founder, Sabeer Bhatia, said it best: in America, you’re a hero for trying, even if you crash. Investors bet on founders who’ve flopped before—they’ve got battle scars, not just PowerPoint decks. In India? You’re a cautionary tale. One slip, and it’s whispers of “he couldn’t hack it.” Parents tighten the leash, society tallies the scorecard. That gap’s everything. There, failure’s a stepping stone; here, it’s quicksand.
Tying It Together
Take my YouTube channel as proof. Years ago, I started it, freaked out about looking dumb, and quit. Last December, I had 78 subscribers. Now, it’s over 1,300. What changed? I stopped caring about the optics and just posted. Failure’s messy, chaotic, human—and it sharpens you. India’s wired to dodge it—family pressure, society’s glare—but the real trap isn’t failing; it’s giving up. Keep swinging, and it works out.
Pol Ke Bol! 