u/IdealPrestigious22

Do you if a person evolves by himself and make some new inventions then he himself makes a loop for another person directly or indirectly

Let's understand this by an example :

As I am a graphic designer so by coming of ai image generation and all this killed our jobs means I am not against ai it really helps alot to me also, but then we get into a loop to learn some other thing to survive in the market.

Likewise if someone makes more convenient thing then ai image generation then the comaonies who invested in ai image generation they also get into a loop to create or learn something new or to invest something new to sustain in the market

This is a deep talk if you think once about this, a person who invents something new creates a problem directly or indirectly for some other person!!!

Hi, I’m 23 years old, based in Vadodara/Rajkot. I work as a Graphic Designer and come from a simple family.

A little about me: I’m respectful, family-oriented, and looking for a genuine connection that can grow into marriage. I value honesty, mutual respect, and clear communication.

What I’m looking for: a kind, well-mannered partner with similar values, someone who is serious about marriage and ready for a stable relationship.

If this feels relevant, feel free to connect.

Office jaane wale ladko ki life na… Instagram reel jaisi nahi hoti.

It’s more like buffering.

Aur yeh buffering hoti hai Vadodara ke traffic mein, subah 9:32 pe, jab tum already late ho.

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Main bhi wahi ladka hoon.

Jo alarm 7:30 pe lagata hai, 7:30 pe uthta nahi hai,

aur 8:45 pe regret karta hai.

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Subah ka routine simple hai.

Brush jaldi jaldi.

Nahane ka decision skip.

Shirt press nahi hai, toh jacket pehen lo.

Aur mummy ka ek hi dialogue

“Beta time pe utha karo.”

Jaise main timepass ke liye late ho raha hoon.

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Office ka naam bada hai.

Building glass wali hai.

Andar AC full.

Par andar jaate hi pata chal jaata hai…

thand sirf hawa mein hai, environment mein nahi.

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Entry pe swipe machine hoti hai.

Aur woh machine judge karti hai tumhe.

9:59 swipe karo toh tum employee.

10:01 swipe karo toh tum criminal.

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Manager ka naam main nahi lunga.

Par unka hobby hai

tumhe busy dekhna.

Kaam ho ya na ho.

Busy dikhna chahiye.

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“Quick call kar lete hain.”

Yeh line sunte hi samajh jao…

quick kuch nahi hone wala.

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Main video editing karta hoon.

Socha tha creative field hai.

Par yahan creativity ka matlab hota hai

“Client ko jo pasand aaye wahi best.”

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Ek project pe 3 din lagaye.

Transitions smooth.

Music perfect.

Color grading cinematic.

Client ka reply aaya

“Can we make it more… viral?”

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Viral.

Yeh ek word pura kaam ka postmortem kar deta hai.

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Office ke dost bhi ajeeb hote hain.

Lunch pe sab philosopher ban jaate hain.

“Bhai yeh job temporary hai.”

“Bhai main startup karunga.”

“Bhai main foreign jaunga.”

Aur 2 baje sab wapas Excel sheet khol ke baith jaate hain.

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Salary aati hai.

Ek din ke liye tumhe lagta hai life sorted hai.

Doosre din EMI, rent, recharge sab milke bolte hain

“Relax mat ho.”

---

Shaam ko jab main office se nikalta hoon na…

Vadodara thoda alag lagta hai.

Fatehgunj ki lights.

Alkapuri ka traffic.

Chai ki smell.

Sab same hota hai.

Par main thoda change ho chuka hota hoon.

---

Ek din main bohot thak gaya.

Proper.

Dil se.

Dimaag se.

---

Ghar aake seedha bed pe gir gaya.

Papa aaye.

Pooche,

“Kaisa tha din?”

Maine bola,

“Theek.”

---

“Theek” is the biggest lie working people tell.

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Unhone bola,

“Thak gaya lagta hai.”

Main chup.

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Phir unhone ek line boli jo simple thi, par heavy thi.

“Kaam se thakna theek hai… par khud se thak mat jaana.”

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Us din samajh aaya.

Struggle job ka nahi hota.

Struggle hota hai

apne aap ko lose na karne ka.

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Agle din phir alarm baja.

Main phir late utha.

Phir same routine.

Phir same office.

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Par ek cheez change thi.

Is baar main bas kaam karne nahi ja raha tha.

Main khud ko bachane ja raha tha.

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Office going ladke hero nahi hote.

Unke paas background music nahi hota.

---

Par roz subah uthna

aur phir se try karna

Yeh bhi kisi action scene se kam nahi hota.

Hum do bhai hain.

Main bada nahi hoon… bas pehle paida ho gaya tha.

Aur woh chhota nahi hai… bas thoda late entry li thi.

Bachpan simple tha.

Ek cycle.

Do log.

Seat pe kaun baithega, pedal kaun marega us pe World War level ke fights hote the.

Maa bolti thi, “Dono share karo.”

Par sharing ka matlab hota tha

main 70 percent, woh 30 percent.

Usko lagta tha main cheat kar raha hoon.

Main bolta tha “experience zyada hai mera.”

Time badla.

Cycle se scooty aa gayi.

Par roles same.

Main drive karta, woh peeche baith ke directions deta.

Galat directions.

Hamesha.

College ke time pe thoda serious phase aaya.

Main thoda responsible banne ki acting kar raha tha.

Woh abhi bhi chill mode mein.

Aur ghar mein comparison chalu.

“Bade wale se seekh.”

Yeh line dangerous hoti hai.

Ek din usne mujhe bola,

“Bhai, sabko lagta hai tu perfect hai.”

Maine bola,

“Main perfect nahi hoon.”

Usne bola,

“Par tu dikhata nahi.”

That stayed.

Phir ek din uska result aaya.

Backlog.

Do subjects.

Ghar ka atmosphere heavy.

Papa ka face serious.

Maa tension mein.

Main uske room mein gaya.

Woh chup tha.

Phone side mein.

Eyes red.

Maine bola,

“Kya plan hai?”

Usne bola,

“Pata nahi bhai… lagta hai sab khatam.”

Khatam.

Yeh word usne pehli baar use kiya tha.

Usually woh banda tha jo bolta tha

“chill hai sab.”

Maine bola,

“Ek kaam karte hain.”

Woh dekhta hai.

“Mere saath baith. Dono subjects clear karte hain. Tu akela nahi hai.”

Usne turant nahi bola haan.

Par usne mana bhi nahi kiya.

Agle din se routine change.

Subah chai.

Books.

Thoda padhai.

Beech beech mein frustration.

“Bhai nahi ho raha.”

“Bhai samajh nahi aa raha.”

Aur main bhi koi topper nahi tha.

Main bhi YouTube dekh ke samajh raha tha aur usko samjha raha tha.

Half knowledge, full confidence.

Ek din woh irritate ho gaya.

Bola,

“Tu kyun kar raha hai yeh sab mere liye?”

Maine bola,

“Kyuki jab main fail honga na life mein… toh mujhe pata hai tu mere liye karega.”

Silence.

Exam ka din aaya.

Woh nervous.

Main zyada nervous.

Exam hall ke bahar usne bola,

“Bhai agar nahi hua toh?”

Maine bola,

“Toh phir se karenge. Par aaj deke aaja.”

Result aaya.

Pass.

Dono subjects.

Us din usne kuch nahi bola.

Bas aake mere paas baitha.

Aur ek line boli,

“Bhai, tu hai toh confidence rehta hai.”

That’s it.

No hug.

No emotional speech.

Bas woh line.

Aaj bhi hum ladte hain.

Remote pe.

Charger pe.

Chhoti chhoti cheezon pe.

Par ek cheez constant hai.

Agar duniya opposite direction mein khadi ho jaaye,

toh hum dono same side pe khade rahenge.

Vadodara mein log bolte hain

family strong hoti hai.

Par sach yeh hai,

family strong nahi hoti.

Kuch log strong hote hain

jo ek dusre ko girne nahi dete.

Aur mere case mein

woh “kuch log”

sirf ek hi banda hai

mera bhai.

Mera scene simple tha.

College chal raha tha, side mein thoda video editing ka kaam shuru kiya tha. First time laga ki “haan bhai, life set ho rahi hai.”

Client mila.

Proper client.

Bola, “Project de raha hoon, advance milega, baaki delivery ke baad.”

Mujhe laga, bas… yahi entry hai industry mein.

Teen din tak bina sone edit kiya.

Transitions, sound design, color grading… sab kuch dala.

Apna best.

File bheji.

Client ne bola,

“Nice hai, thoda change karte hain.”

Thoda change hua.

Phir thoda aur.

Phir thoda aur.

You know that “thoda” which never ends.

Finally project complete.

Main khush.

Message kiya,

“Sir, final file ready hai.”

Seen.

No reply.

Ek din.

Do din.

Teen din.

Phone uthana band.

Messages blue tick pe freeze.

Aur tab samajh aaya…

Main scam ho gaya.

Amount bada nahi tha.

But mere liye bada tha.

Zyada bada tha woh confidence jo gaya.

Main pura din room mein baitha tha.

Laptop khula.

Project file saamne.

Par screen blank lag rahi thi.

Papa ghar aaye.

Unka routine same.

Chappal side mein.

Bag ek corner mein.

TV on.

Unhone dekha main chup hoon.

Pooche,

“Kya hua?”

Maine bola,

“Kuch nahi.”

Fathers ko “kuch nahi” pe bharosa nahi hota.

Woh “kuch” nikalwa ke hi rehte hain.

Thodi der baad phir poocha,

“Kaam ka kuch hua?”

Bas… wahin break ho gaya.

Maine sab bata diya.

Client, project, paise, scam… sab.

Main expect kar raha tha lecture.

“Contract kyun nahi liya”

“Advance kyun nahi liya”

“Samajh nahi hai kya”

Woh sab ready tha.

Par unhone bas itna poocha,

“Kitne paise the?”

Maine amount bataya.

Unhone sirf “hmm” bola.

Phir woh uth ke andar gaye.

Wahi purana steel cupboard khola.

Notes nikale.

Aur mere haath mein de diye.

Maine turant bola,

“Papa nahi, rehne do… meri galti thi.”

Unhone kaha,

“Galti thi toh seekh le. Par ruk kyun gaya?”

That line hit.

“Ruk kyun gaya?”

Maine bola,

“Confidence nahi aa raha.”

Unhone kaha,

“Confidence paise se nahi aata. Kaam se aata hai. Kal se phir se kar.”

Bas.

Itna simple.

Next day main phir baitha.

Naya project dhunda.

Chhota kaam uthaya.

Darr tha.

Par kaam kiya.

Do hafte baad ek aur client mila.

Is baar maine advance liya.

Terms clear kiye.

Aur kaam diya.

Paise bhi mile.

Us din main ghar aaya.

Seedha papa ke paas gaya.

Aur unko woh paise dene laga.

Unhone haath peeche kar liya.

“Rakh le.”

Maine bola,

“Nahi papa, us din jo diya tha…”

Unhone bola,

“Woh diya nahi tha. Woh push tha.”

Push.

Us din samajh aaya.

Father support loud nahi hota.

Woh Instagram story jaisa nahi hota.

Woh silent hota hai.

Jab tum girte ho,

woh pakadte nahi.

Woh bas itna karte hain

ki tum dobara khade ho sako.

Aur Vadodara?

Woh toh same hi hai.

Fatehgunj mein chai chal rahi hai.

Alkapuri mein offices khul rahe hain.

Log aa rahe hain, log ja rahe hain.

Bas kahin ek ghar ke andar,

ek father silently apne bete ka confidence wapas build kar raha hai

without even saying

“I believe in you.”

Love story in Vadodara doesn’t start with violins.

It starts with “Bhai tu aa raha hai ke nahi?”

I met her because my friend forced me to come to Navratri.

Main woh banda hoon jo garba mein claps miss kar deta hai.

Left, right, phir confusion.

So I was standing outside the ground, holding a ₹20 wali chai, judging life decisions.

She was sitting next to me.

Also judging.

She looked at me and said,

“Tum dance nahi karte?”

I said,

“Main logon ko embarrass nahi karta.”

She laughed.

Bas.

Game over wahin.

After that, we didn’t fall in love.

We drifted into it.

Slowly.

Like Vadodara traffic.

Every evening ka ek routine ban gaya.

“Chai piyega?”

“Chal.”

No planning. No drama.

Alkapuri ke chhote cafés.

Sayaji Baug ke random benches.

Scooty rides jahan petrol kam hota tha, emotions zyada.

She had this habit.

She would complain about everything.

“Tum message late kyun karte ho?”

“Tum itne simple kyun ho?”

“Tum thode aur ambitious kyun nahi lagte?”

And I… idiot… used to smile and say,

“Improve kar lunga.”

You know that phase?

Jahan tum khud ko update karne lagte ho like a software.

Version 1.0 se 2.0.

Sirf isliye kyunki koi bol raha hai,

“Thoda aur better ho ja.”

Maine kiya.

Time pe reply.

Better plans.

Thoda style change.

Thoda attitude change.

Matlab pura banda beta version se stable release ban gaya.

But ek problem thi.

Uska “better” kabhi complete nahi hota tha.

Aaj yeh change karo.

Kal woh change karo.

And you don’t even realize…

You’re not improving.

You’re adjusting to survive.

One day, we were sitting near Fatehgunj.

Same chai.

But us din woh phone pe zyada thi, mere saath kam.

I asked,

“Kya hua?”

She said,

“Tum na… thode boring ho gaye ho.”

Boring.

That word hits different.

Because you spent so much time becoming what she wanted…

Aur end mein result yeh.

I didn’t argue.

Bas ek second ke liye socha…

Original version boring tha ya updated version?

Uske baad things didn’t explode.

They just… faded.

Calls kam.

Meetings cancel.

Messages dry.

Aur ek din usne bola,

“I think we should stop this.”

I asked,

“Matlab?”

She said,

“Matlab… bas.”

“Bas” is a very powerful word.

Explanation band.

Closure band.

Tum band.

Few days later, I saw her.

With another guy.

Garba ground ke bahar.

Same place.

Same chai.

Same laugh.

Only difference?

Is baar woh uske jokes pe has rahi thi.

And that’s when it clicked.

She didn’t want “better.”

She wanted different.

Aur main… bas available tha.

People say girls break hearts.

Nahi.

Some people just keep upgrading their choices…

Aur tum purane version ban jaate ho.

Ab main wapas wahi hoon.

Garba ke bahar.

Chai haath mein.

Dance nahi kar raha.

But ek cheez seekh li.

Agar kisi ko tumhe continuously change karna pad raha hai…

Toh shayad problem tum nahi ho.

Compatibility ka naam bhi koi cheez hoti hai.

Aur Vadodara?

Woh toh same hi hai.

Navratri aayega.

Lights lagenge.

Log milenge.

Pyar hoga.

Breakup hoga.

Bas iss baar…

Main dance nahi karunga.

Aur kisi ke liye version update bhi nahi.

It was one of those nights.

I had just finished editing a video — you know that phase where your brain is fried, eyes are burning, but heart is still restless? That. So I thought, “Chalo, ek round maar ke aate hain.”

Helmet uthaya, bina destination ke nikal gaya.

Now if you’ve been in Vadodara long enough, you know — this city doesn’t sleep like Mumbai, and it doesn’t die like smaller towns. It just… slows down and starts breathing differently.

I crossed Fatehgunj — still alive, obviously. A couple of chai stalls, some engineering students discussing life like they’ve figured everything out (they haven’t), and one guy loudly saying, “Bhai startup karte hain.” Classic.

I didn’t stop.

Kept riding.

Reached near Kala Ghoda. Empty. Almost too empty. The kind of silence where even your own thoughts sound loud.

And that’s when I saw him.

One old man. Probably late 60s. Sitting on a broken plastic chair next to a closed paan shop. No phone. No chai. Just… sitting.

I slowed down. Not because I was curious. Because something felt… off.

You know that instinct? When a scene feels like it’s trying to tell you something.

I parked.

Walked up to him.

“Uncle, sab theek?”

He looked at me like I had interrupted a very important meeting… with himself.

Then he smiled.

“Tum log abhi bhi raat ko ghoomte ho?”

I laughed. “Haan… thoda dimag shaant karne.”

He nodded. Like he understood more than I said.

Then out of nowhere, he goes —

“Pehle yahan raat ko awaaz hoti thi.”

Now I’m confused. “Awaaz?”

He points around.

“Logon ki. Baatein. Cycle ki ghanti. Radio. Hasi. Ab sirf gaadiyan hain… aur jaldi mein log.”

That hit harder than expected.

Because he wasn’t complaining.

He was… remembering.

We stood there for maybe 10–15 minutes. Random conversation. Or at least it sounded random.

He talked about how he used to work in a printing press near Mandvi. How nights were louder back then. How people had time.

Then suddenly he asked me,

“Tum kya karte ho?”

“Video editor.”

Pause.

“Matlab kahaniyaan kaatte ho… ya banate ho?”

I didn’t have an answer.

Because honestly… most days, I just cut clips.

He smiled again. That calm, slightly sad smile.

“Dhyaan rakhna. Kahaniyaan sirf kaatne ke liye nahi hoti.”

I left after that.

Started my scooty. Rode back.

But something had changed.

Vadodara still looked the same — same roads, same lights, same late-night chai stalls.

But now it felt like the city was full of unfinished conversations.

People who used to talk… but don’t anymore.

Stories that were loud… but got edited out.

And suddenly I realized — maybe the city didn’t become quiet.

Maybe we just stopped listening.

Next day, I went back to that spot.

Closed paan shop was still there.

Plastic chair was gone.

And so was he.

I don’t know who he was.

Maybe just an old man.

Maybe just my overthinking brain.

Or maybe… Vadodara decided to talk for one night.

And I happened to be there to listen.