My Journey in Tech
The First Encounter
I still remember the first time I laid eyes on that tiny, blinking piece of metal—this strange, boxy contraption with lights that glowed like it had been plucked straight out of a sci-fi movie. I was in my school's computer lab, staring at a Windows PC running Windows 95. Back then, I didn't know much about how it worked. Heck, I wasn't even sure why it worked. I just knew it did things. Cool things. The kind of things that made you wonder if it ran on wires and circuits or by actual human trapped inside, frantically shuffling things and making everything work.
I had no idea that this so-called "machine" would eventually shape my entire life. That it would have an enormous impact not just in my - but everyone's life. But there it was, humming away like it was a toy for elites while I fumbled around in MS Paint trying to draw stick figures that didn't look like they had a severe back problem. And that free game "Mines" which, I am ashamed to admit, I could only figure out how is it played quite recently.
Anyway, not long after, my dad brought a PC home. I was in third standard then, and while it was technically bought for my elder sister, I claimed squatter's rights the moment it booted up. That glorious machine came with both a CD drive and a floppy drive, because why settle for one when you can flex both? Even better, it came bundled with 40 CDs. That's right. Four. Zero. It was like discovering a hidden stash of candy, except these shiny discs promised me endless adventures (read games). My eyes practically turned into the Windows startup logo as I counted them.
The Great Betrayal and The Inspiration
Half of those CDs were games. Spiderman, Brick Shooter, a helicopter flying game—I mean, come on, this was the jackpot. But oh, life is cruel. One by one, I shoved those shiny beauties into the CD drive only to discover... they were trial versions of the full games. You could only play a very small part of the game and then you were forced to purchase the full version. Or, some games had a timer. You practically got the full version of the game, but you could only play for 30 minutes in total. Yes, capitalism was cool back in the day too. I still remember that sinking feeling. It was like unwrapping a chocolate bar only to find it was hollow. And the ones that did come with full versions? Well, let's just say I would've rather watched MS Word try to format a document than to agonize myself into playing those silly games.
But it wasn't just games that drew me in. My curiosity soon spilled over into everything that PC had to offer—MS Paint, Word, Excel, and of course, the OG of programming: LOGO. Ah, LOGO. The language that let you draw shapes with a tiny turtle moving across the screen at the speed of snail mail. I practiced obsessively, well beyond what we were learning in school. My computer teacher thought I was some sort of prodigy, and my friends? They were convinced I was hacking the Matrix. Mind you, this was a time when the only cloud we knew about was the one that canceled cricket matches. No internet connection—just me, my curiosity, and a turtle that made Picasso look like an amateur.
Fast forward to standard 9th, when my friends and I stumbled upon Microsoft Publisher. A software that let us build websites without touching a single line of code. My mind was blown. 'Wait... so this is how Facebook, Orkut, and MySpace are built? With a drag-and-drop tool? Really?!' Of course, I would later learn that real web development was about as easy as solving a Rubik's cube blindfolded, but at the time, I felt like I'd just unlocked a superpower. We even entered a national-level website-making competition, and just like that, we were 'the tech guys.' I'm pretty sure our social stock in school tripled overnight.
Steve Jobs
Those seemingly ordinary moments—the blinking light of that first computer, the mountain of trial-version games, the turtle crawling across the LOGO screen—those were the seeds that grew into something much bigger. At the time of writing this, in 2025, I'm a seasoned software developer, actively contributing to cutting-edge AI technologies, a full-stack web developer, and a freelancer who still codes for fun and a little extra cash. It's funny, isn't it? How a 10-year-old kid fiddling with trial CDs and painting boxes in LOGO would one day make a living off this stuff?
It was much later in my journey when I stumbled upon the life and philosophy of Steve Jobs. I remember watching his Stanford Commencement Speech
"You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards." — Steve Jobs
Looking back, every small frustration, every tiny success, every floppy disk failure—it all added up to something greater. Just like Jobs connected calligraphy to the Mac, I connected all these little moments to a career in tech. The dots did line up... just not in the way I expected.
Connecting the Dots
And here I am today, living proof that sometimes, it's the tiny sparks of curiosity—the simple joy of watching a turtle move pixel by pixel across a screen—that light up a path you never imagined. If there's one thing I've learned, it's this: never underestimate the power of a floppy disk, a blinking cursor, or a teacher who believes in you. Because sometimes, those small moments add up to something far greater than the sum of their parts.
Who knew that a stack of trial-version CDs and a drag and drop website builder could kickstart someone's career in tech?
And if you ever find yourself staring at a blinking cursor, just know... that's where all the best stories begin.