My Journey to Ireland

I was 21 when I moved out of India for the first time.

But I think my journey of stepping out of my comfort zone had already started a few years before that.

I was 17 when I moved from Akola to Mumbai for my graduation at Somaiya College, where I studied Bachelors in Management Studies. That was my first experience of living away from home, understanding independence in small ways, and figuring things out on my own.

Then Covid happened.

Like everyone else, life slowed down. But for me, it also became a phase where I started exploring things I genuinely enjoyed. I had always been inclined towards creative work during college, making videos, working on visuals, doing small things here and there, but during that time I started taking it more seriously.

That’s when I slowly discovered the world of design.

One thing led to another, I explored it further, did an internship in UX design, and started understanding what I actually wanted to do.

And before I knew it, in 2021, I was on a flight to Ireland.

Around this time, I also started figuring out what I actually wanted to do.

I was always inclined towards creative things. Back in college, I enjoyed making videos and working on anything visual. It was something I liked, but I never really thought of it as a career.

That changed when I did a UX design internship in India. It helped me understand that design is not just about visuals, but about people, their behaviour, and solving real problems.

I started learning tools like Adobe XD and Figma, but more than that, I got interested in the thinking behind it.

While most people around me were choosing more conventional paths, I decided to take a different route and applied for a masters in Creative Digital Media, focusing on AR, VR, and UX at Technological University Dublin.

It wasn’t the obvious choice, but it felt right to me.

The first few months in Dublin were a big shift.

Back home, I was always surrounded by people. family, friends, constant noise. Here, everything felt quiet. And in the beginning, that silence was uncomfortable. I would always keep something playing in the background. Music, a show, anything. Just so it didn’t feel like I was alone. It wasn’t about eating alone or being physically by myself. That never really bothered me. It was the absence of voices that felt strange.

But over time, something changed. I got used to the silence. And then I started liking it. Now, it’s something I actually value.

There’s also something I’ve realized over the years.

A lot of people assume that if you move abroad, it’s because things are easy or because you come from a very comfortable background.

That wasn’t my reality.

I come from a middle class family. Everything that brought me here came with planning, responsibility, and effort. Not just from me, but from my family as well.

And once I got here, I knew I had to make it work.

I still remember earning my first €20 from a small cleaning job. I’ve kept that euro 20 note even today.

It might sound small, but that moment meant everything to me.

Even today, no amount of money feels the same as that first earning.

Then came my first proper salary, €145. I was genuinely proud of it.

Simple things like going to Tesco for the first time, figuring out self checkout, buying my first SIM card, or taking a random bus just to understand how the system works and getting lost.

Even buying a deep red jacket from Primark when everyone else was picking black felt like a small personal win.

Each of these moments reminded me that I was building this life on my own.

I started working early at Spar in Dublin, on Philipsburg Avenue.

My days had a rhythm. Wake up around 5:30, get ready, and walk to work for a 7 AM shift.

I did everything there. Opening the deli, baking pastries, preparing breakfast, managing the till, stocking shelves.

Breakfast shifts were intense. Sausages, hash browns, bacon, black and white pudding. Things I had never even been around before, especially as a vegetarian. In the beginning, I used to feel sick just from the smell. Eventually, I got used to it.

There were rush hours, long queues, delivery days, and moments where I handled both the deli and the till at the same time.

It was physical work. Long hours. Repetitive at times. But it taught me a lot.

Working 30 to 36 hours a week while studying isn’t something you fully understand until you do it yourself.

And I know I’m not alone in this. So many students who move abroad at a young age go through this phase. Working, managing, figuring things out, building something from scratch.

There’s a quiet pride in that.

What stayed with me the most from that time wasn’t just the work. It was the people.

Regular customers with fixed orders. Small conversations. Irish phrases like it’s grand or thanks a million.

That’s where I really became comfortable speaking and connecting.

And I have to mention this. John, the owner, and Ron, the manager, were genuinely kind people. They always looked out for me and made that place feel warm. I still visit them whenever I can.

That experience gave me something no classroom could have.

It gave me confidence in real life.

Somewhere along the way, I changed.

In Mumbai, I used to care a lot about what people thought of me. I was often misunderstood, and I carried that with me.

But here, things were different.

No one knew me. No one had any assumptions about me.

And slowly, I became more myself.

I stopped constantly questioning who I am. I stopped seeking validation all the time.

Moving to Letterkenny later brought another shift.

I was looking for a slower, calmer life, and that’s exactly what I found.

Ireland feels structured, but not in a stressful way. It’s calm, predictable, and gives you space to breathe.

Even small everyday experiences feel well thought through. Systems work, spaces are quiet, people respect boundaries.

Without consciously trying, I started noticing these things more.

And I think that’s where my design thinking started shaping.

Good design doesn’t need to be loud. It just needs to make life easier.

Over the years, I’ve met a lot of people. And I’ve also lost a lot of them.

But I don’t look at that negatively anymore.

Every person added something to my life at that time. And when things ended, life simply moved forward.

I think one of the biggest things I’ve learned over the years is the art of letting go.

Not everything needs a reaction. Not everything needs to be held onto.

Earlier, I used to overthink a lot. Small things, small words, small actions. But now I’ve started looking at the bigger picture.

People are not perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. Just like I do.

And if you hold onto every little thing, every hurt, every misunderstanding, it slowly makes you bitter from the inside. And that’s not the kind of person I want to become.

So I’ve learned to forgive more easily. And also to forget.

Not because what happened didn’t matter, but because my peace matters more.

At the same time, I’ve also learned to take accountability. Even in situations where it might not fully be my fault, sometimes choosing to apologize or to let things go is the bigger thing to do, especially when the relationship matters.

I think the only way to have good people in your life, people who genuinely care about you and stay, is to create space for mistakes. Yours and theirs.

Now, my idea of friendship is simple.

Be kind. Be present. And don’t make life heavier than it needs to be.

And somewhere along the way, I’ve found myself in a much better place mentally.

Surrounded by fewer people, but the right ones.

One of my favourite memories is still something very simple.

When I was living in Drumcondra, I used to walk to work every day. It was a 25 to 30 minute walk, with trees on both sides, cold air, and quiet mornings.

I used to listen to the Desi Crime podcast during that walk.

I would start it when I left home and finish an episode by the time I reached Spar.

It became something I genuinely looked forward to every day.

Not because of work. But because of that time with myself.

There’s also a different kind of loneliness that comes with living abroad.

Not the obvious one.

Not missing festivals or big moments. Because you can go back home for those.

It’s something quieter.

When you go back home, things don’t feel exactly the same anymore. Not in a bad way, just… different.

You start noticing things you never noticed before. The way systems work, the way people move through life, the pace, the structure.

And you can’t unsee it.

You want to explain it to your family sometimes. Not because they won’t understand, but because there’s no simple way to say, I see the world differently now without it sounding wrong.

At the same time, there are moments when you wish they could see your world too.

Simple things. Places you visit. Experiences that feel normal to you now, but you know they would never imagine.

And in those moments, you feel something strange.

Not sad. Not empty.

Just… quiet.

Like you’re growing into someone your old world does fully recognize yet.

And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

I think this is exactly what my parents wanted for me.

But no one really tells you that growth and distance sometimes feel like this.

I came here at 21. I’m 26 now.

And somewhere in between all of this, I’ve learned independence, responsibility, patience, and how to understand people better.

But more than anything else, I’ve learned how to be okay with myself.

And through all of this, one thing has always stayed constant. My family.

Everything I’ve been able to do here is because of their support, their trust, and the sacrifices they’ve made for me back home in Mumbai.

I don’t say it enough, but I feel it strongly.

Ireland didn’t just change my life.

It helped me grow into the person I am today.

And if I look back at everything, the good, the difficult, the uncertain,

I wouldn’t change a thing.