It was the middle of September 2019. Yes, those pre-pandemic days.
I'd just wrapped up my work and was preparing to leave for the day. The person who serves tea walked into my office and said the Head of Department (HOD) wanted to see me.
Thinking it was a regular meeting, I walked into the HOD's room, and was surprised to see the entire civil department sitting in the room. I looked around and took a seat towards the back.
I was the youngest professor at NIT Silchar, and none of my colleagues really talked to me beyond the mandatory "Hi, how are you, how was your day?"s. Still, I whispered to the professor of geotechnology sitting next to me and asked, "What's this meeting about?"
"We're evaluating the scores of a test conducted today," he replied. "HOD sir asked all of us for help."
Fair enough. I could evaluate a few test papers.
What followed were three hours of clerical work that I could have easily done in 20 minutes had it been left to me. But following the HOD's instruction and everyone else's friendly banter, the process took way longer than it should have. It ate up my time for a workout, and left me too tired to write.
Those were the days when I spent all my time from 8 AM to 5 PM at the department. The rest of the day was for my exercise and writing. But that day, I got time for neither.
That was also the day when I looked around at a room full of colleagues arguing about how grading two papers at once (it was a multiple-choice test) is too much, and they can only handle one paper at a time. A great concept, in theory. But in practice, it's insanely time-consuming, given that there were 500+ papers and only 20 or so professors.
That day, I didn't see my colleagues as people but as case studies. They were in their late 30s, 40s, or 50s. All with a well-paying job, huge respect in society, a beautiful state-sponsored house to live in, and enough holidays to never complain again.
But the truth had another shade.
They were all in the same job for nearly their entire career, which meant sticking to the same place all their life. They didn't have the creative freedom to work on their terms because the government of India has certain rules and every employee needs to abide by them (including forms, documents, and 10-step processes that could be reduced to a single click).
I was 28 then and looking at a future version of myself who'd sit in a room full of men and argue about how many papers to grade at once.
Being a professor at a reputed college was a dream I'd cherished my entire life.
But did I want to be 50, having lived in the same town all my life and never gotten the time to do what I truly want?
The answer was no.
Some backstory on traction
There's another reason I wanted to give my writing career a chance.
I'd been writing on Quora since 2014. For two years, I wrote non-stop and was awarded the Top Writer tag in 2016. It was a huge honor for me, a validation for all my hard work. Those days, I used to get 1000 new followers every day. It seemed as if nothing could go wrong.
But I started my job in 2016, and after that, things got super hectic. My writing frequency on Quora dropped from daily to 3–4 answers a month. My follower growth trickled; I barely got 100 views for each answer, and there was no motivation to continue.
This was a tragedy, but it taught me an important lesson: When things are going your way, drop everything else and give your craft your all. If you can make the most of your golden period in any platform, you'll build an income stream that will pay dividends for years.
But I couldn't do that. I prioritized my job. In 2016, depending on writing as an income source was a far-off dream.
The traction I didn't want to let go
Fast forward to 2019, and my writing first started making money. $20 from an article felt like a huge deal, and I never wanted to stop.
I knew this traction was at a critical point. If I managed to dive in full-time without having to worry about a job on the side, I might be able to give it my best.
I might be able to build a legacy I'd be proud to leave behind.
If I missed this chance and focussed fully on my job, I might miss this window of opportunity forever.
And so, I decided to give my dreams a chance.
I worked at my job, but I dedicated two hours to writing every day. Things got easier during the pandemic because I saved 5–6 hours every day working from home. All those extra hours were dedicated to writing, and the results took off.
In December 2020, I made more money from my writing than my day job. That's when I knew I had a real chance.
But I was also terrified.
I got this job after a country-wide entrance examination, multiple rounds of written tests, and hours of grueling interviews. It paid well and was a chance to live a life free from stress. I couldn't give it up on a whim.
So, I made a pledge to myself. If I make more money from my writing than my day job for six months straight, I'll hand in my resignation letter.
In September 2021, I became a full-time writer.
Life makes sense when you look backwards
I'm writing this article after three years of being self-employed. This phase in my life has been liberating, enlightening, and incredibly rewarding.
Yes, there's been stress. Some months, I barely make enough to hold on. But on good months, I make so much money that I don't need to work the entire year if I wished to.
There's uncertainty. But there's also fulfillment.
There's no fixed salary. But there's the euphoria of knowing every hour you spend working will help you get better, richer, and more skilled.
There are no fixed working hours. But I've managed to structure my routine so I don't need to work more than 3–4 hours per day, 5 days a week.
I wouldn't change this for anything else. And now that I look back, I realize that my fears while leaving my job weren't unfounded.
But this has also taught me an important lesson. When you feel stuck in life, you have two choices: stay there and complain or make a change.
Change can be terrifying. It will fill you with doubts like never before. But if you keep showing up for yourself, there's no way your life will get worse. If you're intentional about where you want to be, taking that leap of faith can be the best decision you make for yourself.
One day, back in 2019, I realized I'd fallen out of love with my job.
I made the difficult choice and changed career trajectories. And that has made all the difference.