Even when I got sleepy, I wouldn’t go back to my room. Somehow, those warm, slightly rough stairs — softened by the gentle April breeze — felt more comforting than my mattress. We’d stay up to watch the sunrise, head straight to breakfast, and only then go to bed.Those days were nothing short of magical. 

As I stepped into the second year—the most challenging year of Mechanical Engineering—with heavyweight courses like ESO209, it felt like a sudden jolt. After a relatively relaxed and light first year, we were hit hard with the academic rigor of the second year. With 3–4 labs, weekly quizzes, and a string of trailing zeroes, the pressure was intense. Mechanical Engineering wasn’t pulling any punches. 

To make things harder, I had also involved myself in several clubs and councils. Instead of being a refreshing break, they turned into an additional workload. I was a part of the Robotics Club, the AnC Council, and the Stamatics Club—not out of passion, but because I believed I needed as many PoRs as possible to make my resume stand out. I had been told that these would play a big role in getting interview shortlists. Looking back now, I realize how misguided that approach was. 

My entire second year was consumed by this chase. I neither worked on improving my skills nor focused on my CPI. All I did was collect things to “decorate” my resume—projects, certificates, and PoRs. Meanwhile, many of my peers had started practicing DSA. At the time, I considered that a waste of time, thinking their resumes would be too empty to get noticed. How wrong I was. 

When the summer break came, I was convinced I needed some work experience on my resume, so I decided to pursue a SURGE project. Although my reasoning wasn’t solid, SURGE turned out to be a blessing. It gave me two things: 

1. The clarity that research wasn’t the path for me. 
2. A strong foundation and domain exposure that later helped me during core company interviews. 

Still, for the rest of my time, I continued the same old pattern—focusing on collecting resume points rather than building any solid base. 

Then came the intern season, and reality hit me like a truck. It was harsh, surprising, and disheartening. I didn’t receive a single shortlist on Day 1. The reasons were clear: 

• My CPI wasn’t good enough. 
• I didn’t perform well in the aptitude tests because I had never really prepared for them. 

I lacked both resources and knowledge. I cried, cursed the system, and blamed everything on luck to cope with the situation. Even when I did get a few shortlists in the later days, I couldn’t get past the first round of interviews—because I simply wasn’t prepared. 

The only interviews where I performed decently were with core companies, thanks to the actual experience I gained during SURGE. Eventually, in October, I got an internship at JSW, and although that brought me some relief from the constant trauma of rejections, I couldn’t rest easy. I knew I had wasted too much time pretending to be someone I wasn’t—chasing achievements that didn’t truly matter. 

For anyone reading this, here are a few lessons I’ve learned the hard way: 

1. Only get involved in things you’re genuinely interested in. Everything else is just a waste of time and energy.
2. Your CPI matters. It’s not a myth. It plays a crucial role in getting you shortlisted. 
3. Focus on developing real, tangible skills. They’ll always be more valuable than a fancy resume. 
4. Don’t blindly follow advice. Do your research, think critically, and make informed decisions. 

I was now determined — truly determined — to push my CPI above 8. No more wishful thinking, no more excuses. I committed myself wholeheartedly: consistent effort, relentless discipline, and slowly but surely, I began to see a shift. I started scoring well, more often than not. But of course, not everything went as planned. There were moments of faltering — unexpected lows, disappointing results — and they felt unfair, like betrayal after all the effort. I was disheartened. 

But I was never alone. 

Each time I broke down, my friends picked me up. They reminded me that no one achieves great things effortlessly. That effort, not ease, defines success. And they were right. By the end of my sixth semester, I had done it — my CPI was finally above 8. 

The grades came in while I was standing in a shopping mall. My heart raced as if I were about to receive a final verdict. I nervously opened the email, sneaking a look at one grade at a time. With each course, my spirits climbed higher, until I couldn’t hold it in anymore — I screamed, jumped, and yes, embarrassed myself publicly. But I didn’t care. For the first time in college, I felt proud of myself. That moment — it felt like triumph. Like redemption. 

Then came the internship phase. 

I’d always believed that my internship experience wouldn’t be as enriching as those who’d landed offers at their “dream companies.” I carried this stereotype about JSW — that I wouldn’t learn much or grow meaningfully. But I was wrong. I had chosen my projects carefully, aligning them perfectly with my passion for machine learning. 

And that changed everything. 

Because of my past projects and coursework, I found myself ahead of the curve. While others were just starting out, I was already building. I made an impression — not because I was trying to, but because I had quietly prepared for this moment all along. I ended up receiving the Best Project Award. 

It struck me then: ML didn’t help me get the intern, but it made the internship mine. 

And that’s when I realized — the company you go to doesn’t matter as much as what you do once you’re there. I had once envied others for their glamorous offers, but now, I wouldn’t trade my experience for anything. Destiny has its own timing. Eventually, you see how every piece fits — how it was all justified, all deserved. 

Then came August. The placement season.

A time of relentless grind. A test of patience, resilience, and will. I knew what was coming, and I braced myself. This was another chance — maybe my last — to prove myself. This time, I couldn’t afford to falter. I poured everything into preparation. Between classes, during classes, in the early morning hours — every spare moment went into prep. I made a calendar, broke down daily goals, and didn’t sleep until I ticked every box. 

It was grueling. 

But still, I kept going. I’d already decided I would face the worst, and I wouldn’t look away. I stopped expecting anything. I focused on giving my best, trusting that whatever I received would be right for me. 

And then came November — a storm. 

Quizzes. Company tests. End-sems. PPTs. All crashing down at once. Nights blurred into test after test, mornings into lectures, afternoons into more evaluations. There was no time left to even breathe, let alone prepare. My targets drifted. My results disappointed. Shortlists came and passed without my name. I felt invisible. Rejected. I cried — not once, but for hours on end — out of frustration, fear, exhaustion. 

It was unbearable. 

But once again — my friends were there. Reminding me that I wasn’t alone. That I had prepared. That things would change.. Without them, I wouldn’t have made it through. Slowly, things turned. I began to see shortlists. I started managing my schedule again. Hope returned, fragile but real. 

Then came the D-Day. 

I still remember it like it was yesterday. Imagine this: in twelve hours, it would all be over. Either victory or another heartbreak. I had studied hard. I was scared, but not paralyzed. I knew this time was different — I had prepared. Maybe I would stumble, maybe not ace it all, but I would not blank out. I was ready. 

First came ITC. I had cleared five rounds and was told the last would be informal. I comforted myself — even if everything else failed, at least I had this. But then came my Microsoft interview. It had gone well, and my hopes were high — perhaps too high. Within hours, I received the news. 

ITC had rejected me. 

Microsoft too. 

It felt like my world collapsed. 

I was numb. I felt like I was reliving the internship pain all over again. I cried. I broke down. I cursed myself for not doing more, not being enough.. My confidence turned to ash. I felt like a failure. I just wanted to go home. Still, I dragged myself through the last few interviews. One was Finmechanics — where I thought I’d surely been rejected after a shaky first round. But surprisingly, I was called for the second. It was 4 AM by then. The atmosphere around was chaotic — some crying, some celebrating, most just stunned. I gave my final round. It went well. Strangely well. 

But I was done. Empty. 

I didn’t even think about Day 1.2. I just crashed. I didn’t call my parents. I didn’t think. I slept. And then — at 8 AM — a call. 

I had been selected. 

Finmechanics had made me an offer. 

I cried. This time out of joy. Shock. Relief. Gratitude. I had always visualized getting placed on Day 1.1. And it had come true. Every single failure suddenly felt small, every heartbreak perfectly timed. 

I had finally succeeded. 

That moment — that fleeting, beautiful moment — is forever etched in my heart. It gives me goosebumps even now. Because yes, hard work does pay off. Maybe not instantly, but always eventually. And the people around you — the ones who cheer you on, cry with you, stay up late with you, believe in you even when you’ve stopped believing in yourself — they are everything. 

Lavesh, Deeksha, Dwija, Princy, Tavishi, Ashish, Shubham, Ishan — thank you. For your love. Your support. Your truth. You helped me become who I am.