It took the world’s best hot chocolate and the most delicious pasta for me to finally sit with today and accept it.
Today is my last day in Dehradun. My heart feels full, but I am not surprised by this heaviness. The year 2025 has been about endings. About letting go. About saying goodbye, again and again.
I think I am good at goodbyes. Somehow, I always find the courage to leave things behind and move forward. But this year asked more of me than usual. It wasn’t just one ending. It was many, layered one after the other. And even when goodbyes come with relief, they still leave you with mixed emotions. You don’t just leave places or jobs behind. You leave people, routines, comfort, and a version of yourself that once existed there.
Saying goodbye to Noida and my marketing role was the first big ending. In many ways, it felt like a blessing. The work had stopped aligning with who I was becoming. Yet, even when something is right to leave, the act of leaving is never clean or simple.
Dehradun and the Illusion of a Beginning
When I came to Dehradun, I was happy in a quiet, understated way. I was clueless, but lighter. There was no loud excitement, no grand expectation. I simply thought maybe something would begin here, or maybe I would finally find some stillness.
The city itself did not fully meet me where I was. Work-wise, it disappointed me a little. But the mountains did not. They loved me back. They didn’t demand explanations or effort. They simply showed up for me every day. Evening walks became a ritual. Music played softly at night. I cooked my own food, slowly learning patience with myself. I spent long hours lost in thought, watching the light change over the hills, falling in love with the mountains every single day.
Alongside all this calm, there was also a quiet awareness of being on my own. I didn’t name it often, but I noticed it. Not as pain or longing, just as the understanding that some parts of life are meant to be walked alone for a while. I didn’t resist it or try to fill the space. I let it exist, knowing that some questions unfold only with time.
That part felt right. That part felt like home, even when other things did not.
When the Silence Starts Asking Questions
But some thoughts don’t disappear, no matter how peaceful your surroundings are. Somewhere between those calm evenings and quiet nights, a discomfort began to grow. The work I was doing was not serving me. It wasn’t challenging me. It wasn’t teaching me. And most importantly, it wasn’t making sense to me anymore.
I tried to ignore it at first. I always do. But the thought kept returning, sharper each time. And I knew what it meant. It meant starting over. Once again.
…it is Time to Align
Around the same time, I enrolled in a public policy course. There was no long-term plan behind it. I joined purely out of interest, out of curiosity. But slowly, it pulled me in completely.
For the first time in a long while, my mind felt engaged. Ideas connected. Questions mattered. I wasn’t just working, I was thinking and understanding. My days became mechanical. Office during the day. Cooking in between. Online classes at night. Assignments that stretched late into the evening.
I worked like a machine, yet I didn’t feel drained. I felt alive. That’s how you know something is aligned with you. When your body is tired, but your mind feels awake. That course held me together more than I realised at the time.
Too Many Endings, Too Quickly
December arrived quietly, and everything seemed to end at once. The course ended. I had resigned from my job in November, so that chapter closed too. Too many endings in too little time.
I decided to stay in Dehradun till January, even without work. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. Everything was slipping away too fast, and I needed something, anything, to stay a little longer.
The Calm in Chaos
After the course ended, I went to Rishikesh for a few days. I needed stillness. There is something about that place that quietens the chaos inside you.
At that point, I had no job, no offers, and no solid plan. I have tasted this uncertainty before, and I know how heavy it can feel. This time, I also questioned myself deeply. Was this becoming a pattern? When things stop making sense, do I leave and then figure out what’s next?
On the surface, it sounds brave. In reality, it is filled with anxiety, fear, and constant self-doubt.
In Rishikesh, I kept my days simple. I read the Bhagavad Gita. Ate warm, uncomplicated food. Sat by the Ganga ghats. Attended the aarti every evening. One chapter stayed with me more than the rest. It spoke about happiness being internal. About staying involved in the world but detached from outcomes. Do your work honestly. Don’t fear results. Don’t cling to outcomes.
It didn’t give me answers. But it gave me calm.
Trusting the Bigger Picture
What stayed with me most was the realisation that we are never really running the show. There is always something larger unfolding in the background, something we cannot fully see or control. We are not meant to understand the entire plan. We are meant to play our part in it.
And maybe that is where peace comes from. Not from knowing what will happen next, but from knowing what is expected of you right now. To do your work with honesty. With full dedication. Without bargaining with the future.
I am not bigger than any plan. I am a very small part of something much larger, and strangely, that thought is calming. It takes the pressure off. It reminds me that I don’t have to carry everything on my shoulders. I just have to show up sincerely, do what I believe is right, and let the rest unfold in its own time.
When I think this way, fear softens. Anxiety loosens its grip. There is relief in knowing that effort matters more than outcomes, and intention matters more than timing.
Knowing When to Leave
When I returned to Dehradun, my routine had changed completely. There was no office to go to. No assignments waiting. Just time, silence, and self-made targets.
I did have a plan forming in my head, but executing it while staying alone here didn’t feel right anymore. Growth, for me, needs people. Conversations. Shared energy. And sometimes, the grounding presence of family.
So the decision I had been avoiding finally became clear. It was time to leave Dehradun.
Time to Say Goodbye
Today, I said goodbye.
I spent the day slowly and intentionally. I shopped for my family, because what is Christmas without gifts? I went to Ama Cafe for the best hot chocolate and pasta. I walked around MDDA Park and found quiet corners to sit with my thoughts.
I thanked the mountains. I thanked the city. I thanked nature for holding me when I needed it most. Trees, breeze, silence, and myself. It felt complete.
This may be my last day here for now, but I know I will return. Maybe someday I will build a house here. Even that thought makes me pause, because loving a place also means protecting it. If I ever do build something here, it will be an eco-living home. That thought for another time.
Learnings
Leaving Dehradun didn’t just mark the end of a chapter. It left me with a clearer understanding of myself. When routines break and certainty disappears, you start seeing yourself without filters. Not who you wish to be, but who you truly are.
I know now that the quality of my work matters deeply to me. It has to feel meaningful in my own eyes. If it doesn’t, my mind refuses to settle, no matter how comfortable things look from the outside.
I understand people very easily, sometimes too easily. Their intentions, their motivations, their self-interest. It is both a strength and a burden. I believe in collaboration and teamwork, but when something feels wrong at its core, I walk away without regret. My time and energy are precious, and life is too short to keep fighting the wrong battles.
Starting over scares me. But I am willing to begin again and again until I find something I can truly give my heart and effort to. This is the only way I know how to live honestly.
Love matters to me, even if it no longer occupies my thoughts the way it once did. Over time, I’ve come to see it less as something to search for and more as something that arrives when life makes space for it. I still believe in its ability to change people, but I no longer attach urgency to it. Maybe as waiting stretches, attachment also fades.
There are days when I feel exhausted by everything. Days when I cry, complain, feel small, and want to give up. I allow myself those moments now. But I never quit. Shiv doesn’t let me. Somehow, I always find my way back and ask myself how I can still be of meaning in this world, even in my smallest capacity.
Endings. And To The New Beginnings.
And I think that is enough to start over again. To fight. To not settle.
Goodbyes are never easy. And this year has been nothing but goodbyes.
See you soon, 2026.