Ah, school and college days. The air thick with dreams and definitive plans. Some of us were packing bags for foreign universities, minds buzzing with Ivy League aspirations. Others were meticulously polishing résumés, laser-focused on campus placements and the security of a first job. And then there were the romantics, convinced they were the next Ranjha, planning to marry their college sweetheart and live happily ever after.
Our knowledge was limited, our exposure even less. Guidance? Mostly scattered whispers and observations of what the seniors did. We were all just projecting life into the future, sketching out rigid career paths that seemed, at the time, carved in stone.
Now, years later, I can confidently say this: almost none of my friends from back then are doing what they originally planned. Seriously, almost none. Most are in careers that have absolutely nothing to do with what they painstakingly studied for.
All those ambitions? They got swapped, flipped, and sometimes vaporised. Today, most of my friends work in careers that have absolutely nothing to do with what we studied.
And weirdly, that feels…okay.
It proves something important. That all of us, in our own way, are warriors. That life never plays by the rulebook you draft in your hostel room at twenty.
Instead, it throws you surprises—some sweet, some like a cricket ball aimed straight at your nose. You don’t get to duck. You have to stand there, bat in hand, ready to adapt.
Think about it: none of the skills we’re paid for today were taught in school or college. We learned them on the job, or on YouTube at 2 a.m., or from failing a few times till we got the hang of it.
If only life came with a trailer…or a syllabus. Imagine if, at fourteen, you knew exactly what you’d be doing at thirty-four. You could have skipped all the irrelevant chapters and focused only on what mattered.
That’s the first-mover advantage in a nutshell. Legends aren’t born with superpowers. They just figure out what they love (and what pays) early—and double down on it while the rest of us are still wondering which lane to pick.
Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: on average, most people only start calibrating their careers around twenty-three or twenty-four. By then, a decade has already passed in “figuring it out.”
Just imagine—if you had your revelation at fourteen instead of twenty-four, you’d be ten years ahead of your peers. Ten years of deep focus. Ten years of compounding experience. That’s how some people build disproportionate advantage.
Is there a solution? Honestly, I don’t know. If there was, we’d all be prodigies by now.
But maybe, if you’re raising a child, you can at least keep your eyes open for those little sparks—tiny clues about what lights them up. Because if you help them start early, you’re not just giving them knowledge. You’re giving them time. And time is the only unfair advantage that no degree or certification can ever replicate.
Because in the end, life isn’t about sticking to a plan you made when you were too young to know any better.
It’s about staying ready. Bat in hand. Eyes on the ball. And knowing that sometimes, the best innings begin exactly where your old plans end.
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