The Routes That Raised Me: From School Gates to Bikanerwala, Taj, and Back to Chandigarh

We think we choose our paths. But sometimes, the path chooses us, then changes us, then sends us forward as someone new. Mine started in a school corridor and has wound its way through college lecture halls, the buzzing counters of Bikanerwala in Chandigarh, the quiet luxury of Taj in the mountains, and now back to the planned streets of Chandigarh. Here’s what each stop took from me, and what it gave back.

School: The World With Four Walls  

School was certainty. The same bell, same bench, same friends who knew my tiffin before I opened it. Life was divided into periods and the biggest risk was forgetting your homework.  

I was safe there. Predictable. I measured worth in red ticks and gold stars. I thought growing up meant getting taller, not getting lost. School taught me discipline, yes, but it also taught me to fear mistakes. I didn’t know then that mistakes are where the real syllabus begins. 

When I left, I thought I was ready for the world. I wasn’t. But school had done its job — it gave me a foundation solid enough to stand on when everything else shook.

College: The Beautiful Chaos  

College was the first time the map disappeared. No one told me where to sit, when to submit, who to become. Freedom was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.  

I learned to budget my last 500 rupees. I learned that 3 AM friends are different from 3 PM friends. I failed, bunked, debated, fell in love with ideas and out of love with certainty. College didn’t give me answers — it taught me better questions. Who am I when no one’s watching? What do I stand for when marks don’t matter?  

It was messy, sleepless, and the most alive I’d ever felt. College didn’t prepare me for a job. It prepared me for change. And change was coming.

Bikanerwala, Chandigarh: My First Taste of the Real World  

My first job was at Bikanerwala in Chandigarh. From campus to counters, from textbooks to trays. Suddenly life smelled like fresh jalebis and ran on shift timings.  

It was humbling. I learned that work isn’t always glamorous, but dignity is. I learned to stand for 8 hours, to smile when I was tired, to handle customers who were kind and ones who weren’t. I learned how quickly a city moves when you’re part of its service.  

Chandigarh was new but not alien. Planned roads, familiar food, the buzz of people who wanted more. Bikanerwala taught me speed, resilience, and that no job is small if you do it with honesty. But a part of me kept looking up — past the Sector 17 lights — wondering what quiet felt like.

Taj in the Mountains: Where Luxury Met Solitude  

Then the mountains called. A job with Taj, tucked between pine trees and clouds. I went from serving crowds to serving silence. From the rush of Chandigarh to the hush of snow.  

The contrast was brutal and beautiful. One day I was in uniform surrounded by chatter, the next I was watching mist roll over a valley at 6 AM before service. Taj taught me finesse — the art of detail, of anticipating needs, of making someone feel at home thousands of feet above sea level.  

But more than that, the mountains taught me myself. No malls, no traffic, no easy distractions. Just me, my thoughts, and a sky full of stars that didn’t care about my designation. I learned the difference between being alone and being lonely. I learned that luxury isn’t chandeliers — it’s time. It’s breathing. It’s hearing your own heartbeat without city noise drowning it out.  

I went to the mountains to grow my career. I left knowing how to grow as a person.

Back to Chandigarh: The City That Now Feels Like Balance  

And then, life circled me back to Chandigarh. Same city, different me.  

This time, Chandigarh isn’t just a place I work. It’s a place I understand. I understand its pace because the mountains taught me slowness. I understand its ambition because Bikanerwala taught me hustle. I understand its structure because school taught me discipline, and college taught me to question it.  

Now, I can be in a meeting at 11 and at Sukhna Lake by 6. I can chase targets and still chase sunsets. Chandigarh is where all my past versions meet. The schoolgirl who loved order. The college kid who craved chaos. The young professional who learned grit at Bikanerwala. The woman who found peace at Taj.  

They all live here now. In me.

What Changed, Really  

My address changed. My uniform changed. My salary changed.  

But the real changes were quieter:  

I stopped equating movement with progress. Sometimes staying still — like in the mountains — moves you the most.  

I stopped thinking success had one look. It can look like a busy Bikanerwala outlet. It can look like a quiet Taj corridor.  

I stopped waiting to “arrive.” I’m not heading toward life anymore. I’m living it, in transit.  

School gave me roots. College gave me questions. Bikanerwala gave me grit. Taj gave me grace. Chandigarh is giving me balance.  

I don’t know where I go next. But I know I’m carrying all of it with me. The girl who feared the school bell, the one who romanticized college bunks, the one who wiped counters at midnight, the one who watched snowfall before her shift, and the one typing this in Chandigarh today.  

None of them got lost. They just grew up. Together.