We’ve all heard about startups breaking apart in the early struggle because of cash crunch, no product-market fit, fights over equity. But there’s another kind of breakup that’s quieter, more surprising, and far more common than most people think — the founder split after success.
Yes, after the product clicks, after the funding comes in, after the media starts calling… that’s when some founders walk away from each other. Why?
When the Survival Fire Goes Out
In the early days, the goal is simple — survive. Founders are united by the fear of failure, the hunger to prove themselves. But once the company hits stability, that fire changes shape.
Some want to scale like crazy. Others want to slow down and enjoy the win. One might be thinking IPO, while the other dreams of a small, profitable business they can run for decades. That’s when the cracks show — not in the market, but in the partnership.
The “I’m Doing More Than You” Syndrome
During the hustle, everyone is busy doing everything. But after success, roles become clearer. This is where one founder might feel the other is no longer pulling equal weight. The old “we’re in this together” feeling fades, replaced by silent resentment.
Power, Ego, and the Spotlight
Growth demands structure — titles, decision-making boundaries, and sometimes hierarchy. For people who built a company as equals, suddenly having to accept “final calls” from one person can sting. Add media attention, where one face gets more coverage than the other, and the ego wounds deepen.
Money Changes More Than the Bank Balance
Success brings money, and money changes priorities. Some want to chase new ventures. Some want a quieter life. Others become obsessed with the next big valuation. It’s not greed — it’s just that wealth gives you options, and not all options match.
Why I Think This Is More Common Now
Today’s startups reach “success” faster than before and sometimes within 2–3 years. That’s not enough time to test the partnership beyond the survival phase. Many founders never learn to navigate the post-survival stage together. And so, when the pressure to survive is gone, the glue that held them together also disappears.
The Takeaway
A startup isn’t just a business. It’s a relationship one that needs constant realignment, especially after winning the first big milestone. If founders don’t consciously work on their vision alignment, role clarity, and personal priorities before the win, the split often becomes inevitable.
So if you’re building something today, remember:
Winning the game is hard. Staying together after the win might be harder.
Yesterday’s Blessing at Tiruchendur
Yesterday was a divine and fulfilling day for us. We went to Tiruchendur with my family and in-laws. There is a belief that we must visit a temple within 48 days of its Kumbabishegam, and we had planned to make it just in time. To our surprise—or maybe by God’s own arrangement—yesterday turned out to be the very last day of that period.
We sent my in-laws and daughter through the senior citizens’ line for their comfort. My wife, son, and I took the ₹100 darshan ticket, and it took us nearly four hours in the queue to reach the sanctum.
When we finally stood before the Lord, it felt worth every minute of waiting. The deity was adorned with a beautiful Santhanam alangaram (sandalwood paste decoration), and the atmosphere was peaceful and divine. We were allowed to stand close for a decent amount of time, which made the experience even more special.
Walking out, I felt a quiet satisfaction. The timing, the darshan, and the blessings all came together perfectly. It was one of those days that leaves you feeling full—not just in the heart, but in the soul.
Timing Is Everything: How Microsoft Missed the Smartphone Bus
A casual chat with a friend the other day took me down a rabbit hole while rewinding back and reliving one of tech history’s most fascinating timelines. The story of how timing made all the difference between winning, losing, and completely missing the bus.
I still remember the smirk on Steve Ballmer’s face in 2007 when the iPhone launched. To him, it was just an expensive toy. A year later, Google entered with Android. And Microsoft? They were still busy somewhere else, only to turn up with Windows Phone in 2010 — three years late to a party where the dance floor was already full.
This isn’t the first time we’ve seen such a script. Back in 1984, Apple launched the Macintosh — revolutionary but pricey. Bill Gates spotted the gap, came in with Windows in 1985, and paired it with cheap IBM clones. Result? Windows ruled the PC world and nearly crushed Apple in the 90s.
Fast forward to the 2000s, and Steve Jobs repeated his own version of that play — starting with the iPod in 2001, owning the premium music device space, and then morphing it into the iPhone in 2007. Jobs’ brilliance was not just in the product; it was in seeing the inevitable convergence of phone + internet + entertainment before anyone else dared to bet big.
While Apple went after the premium market, the bottom of the pyramid was wide open. And here’s where Google showed killer instinct. They didn’t just copy Apple — they democratized the smartphone by making Android “free” for manufacturers. Suddenly, a web-enabled smartphone wasn’t a luxury; it was the cheaper alternative to owning a PC. Billions could now get online without ever buying a desktop.
Microsoft, in contrast, was still dealing with Vista headaches, chasing corporate server business, and nursing its Zune player. By the time they realized smartphones weren’t “just another niche gadget,” the app stores were already overflowing — for iOS and Android. Developers saw no reason to build for an OS with no users, and Windows Phone faded into irrelevance, officially bowing out in 2017.
Lesson? In business, being late is often worse than being wrong. Apple owned the top, Google owned the bottom, and Microsoft… well, they just owned the regret.
So… We Don’t Talk About That Anymore?
The other day, my gym trainer — who also happens to be a good friend — casually said something that got me thinking. We were chatting about life, routines, and the things no one usually says out loud.
“Ever since our son was born, my wife just isn’t interested anymore,” he said, almost like he was talking about a new diet plan that didn’t work.
No drama. No complaints. Just a fact.
And honestly, it made sense. Life changes after kids. Sleepless nights, endless responsibilities, emotional burnout — romance quietly steps aside while survival takes the front seat.
But does that mean the marriage is broken? I don’t think so.
We’re quick to judge a relationship by how “romantic” or “exciting” it looks from the outside. But in reality, many couples go through long dry patches — emotionally and physically. And often, it’s not about lack of love. It’s exhaustion, stress, changing priorities… sometimes even unspoken resentment.
What stuck with me was how normal he made it sound — no blaming, no overthinking. Just a phase that needs attention. Not counselling, not therapy right away. Maybe just a small conversation that starts with:
“Hey, I miss us.”
Sometimes, that’s all it takes. Not to fix everything, but to stop drifting further.
We all have seasons in relationships. What matters is whether we bother to notice when winter drags on too long.
Living Among Traitors
Life has a way of introducing us to people we never thought we’d meet — and sometimes, the hardest lessons come wrapped in familiar faces.
Over the years, I’ve crossed paths with many I once called friend, partner, confidant. They didn’t just disappoint me — they betrayed me. And the deeper the trust, the sharper the cut.
- I’ve been cheated by a business partner I built dreams with.
- I’ve been betrayed by someone I loved and trusted with my heart.
- I’ve been exploited by an advocate friend, who saw my crisis not as a moment to help, but as an opportunity to take.
- I’ve been let down by a close friend and core team member — someone I trusted blindly, only to find my trust was the rope they used to walk away.
- I’ve watched an ex-employee, who was once a friend, vanish when we hit the toughest stretch — a stretch they had a hand in creating.
- I’ve seen friends wear the mask of loyalty, only to disappear when I needed them most.
- And I’ve known those who stayed only while the money flowed — vanishing the moment it stopped.
The cruel truth is this: traitors don’t announce themselves. They don’t come with warning signs or red flags. They blend in, laugh with you, celebrate with you, and then… when you’re least prepared, they reveal who they truly are.
It took me years to accept that filtering them out completely is almost impossible. Some will only show their colours when the stakes are high, when your back is against the wall, when you have no energy left to defend yourself.
So, here’s what I’ve learned — not from books or quotes, but from life cutting me open and teaching me to heal:
You can’t stop traitors from existing, but you can stop them from destroying you.
Don’t waste your days wishing they hadn’t done what they did. Don’t burn your life trying to expose them all. Instead, learn to walk among them — eyes open, heart guarded, spirit unbroken.
Because in a world full of masks, survival isn’t about finding only the good. It’s about knowing the bad, and still moving forward with strength, wisdom, and the quiet power of someone who cannot be broken twice the same way.
I Worked Hard… and My Health Quit
For 25 years, I lived a lifestyle that worked against my own health. I worked nights, slept in the mornings, and believed that hard work mattered more than rest. Most days, I slept barely 4–5 hours and thought that was normal.
On top of that, my food habits were no better — eating out regularly, choosing junk over real meals, and drinking processed, sugary beverages. Over the years, these choices quietly built up into bigger problems: **sleep apnea, high BP, constant body stiffness**, and a general loss of energy.
What I’ve Learned (From My Own Mistakes)
- Keep a regular rhythm:** Eat on time and sleep at least 8 hours.
- Move every day:** A 30-minute walk daily is non-negotiable. Add yoga 3–4 times a week if you can.
- Stretch your body daily:It keeps stiffness away and mobility intact.
- Be mindful with food:** If you love food, enjoy it — but limit cheat days to 1–2 a week.
- Stay connected:Keep in touch with close friends you can talk to openly.
- Nurture your passions:If sports aren’t an option, try cooking, gardening, or any small activity that brings joy.
Looking back, much of my health damage came from **carelessness and lack of awareness**. If I had known the long-term cost earlier, I would have made different choices.
So here’s my advice from experience:
A balanced life isn’t a luxury — it’s the foundation for everything else you want to achieve.
When Dreams Turn Into Daggers
In 2008, six of my friends did something most people only dream about.
They walked away from cozy jobs, steady paychecks, and the warm security of “playing safe” to build something bigger. Something worth remembering. They were all in their late 20s, brimming with fire. They took loans, emptied savings, and pledged the prime of their lives to a single dream.
The world of entrepreneurship, however, wasn’t the romantic adventure they imagined. It was brutal, unforgiving, and often lonely. They worked sleepless nights, took no salary for months, and when they finally did, it was far below what they could have earned elsewhere. They traded comfort for survival, and survival for the hope of victory.
And slowly, painfully, they built a brand — a brand that became a name others admired, a story that inspired.
But today… that story has a bitter ending.
One person’s greed — one — has turned all of that sweat, sacrifice, and shared hardship into ashes.
Three of my friends, who bled for this company for 15 long years, have been thrown out. Not because they failed. Not because they lacked value. But because the man they trusted — a friend — decided he wanted it all.
Money. Power. Control.
The irony? That man is my friend too. And watching him walk the same path as my ex‑business partner is like déjà vu wrapped in heartbreak. I’ve lived through betrayal. I’ve woken up to the taste of iron in my mouth, knowing someone I trusted had buried a knife in my back. I know the hollow it leaves inside you.
He needs to understand — really understand — what it means to crush the very people who carried you through the storms.
He needs to know that the applause he hears today will fade… and karma has the longest memory of all.
And to my friends who were wronged —
I want to tell you this:
Believe in yourself. Stay the course. Don’t let the poison of betrayal seep into the veins of your purpose. Karma takes time, yes… but when it moves, it never misses. I have seen it with my own eyes.
Success built on betrayal is a glass palace. It may look beautiful now, but the cracks are already forming.
And one day, when it shatters, the shards will cut deeper than any knife.
The Many Races of Childhood and Why I Choose to Slow Down
When I was a kid, life was simpler. We had one or two races to run—maybe a 100-meter dash at school, or the occasional race to grab a front-row seat on a bus ride. But today’s kids?
They’re sprinting in every direction.
- A race in academics
- A race in sports
- A race in arts — music, dance, painting, coding… you name it.
Yesterday, I accompanied my daughter to her football zonals. I love watching her play, but what caught my attention wasn’t the game—it was the sidelines.
One parent was passionately talking about his daughter. She’s a topper in taekwondo, athletics, football, badminton. He wasn’t bragging but he was relentlessly calculating. He had recently moved her from her existing badminton club (where my daughter trains) to a “better” one, calling ours mediocre. You could see the pressure in his eyes and probably in his daughter’s shoulders too. He was pushing her to conquer all the milestones he missed in his own childhood.
Then there’s a friend of mine, a doting father. He’s got his daughter enrolled in every possible online class from Odo, Hindi, math, coding. He proudly told me she’s a Hindi pandit at 12. I casually mentioned, “Languages are beautiful, but if not practiced, they fade.” That offended him. He insists I’m being inefficient as a father because I don’t push my daughter like he does his.
Let me be clear—I’m not saying they’re wrong.
Their intentions come from love. They want to give their kids a better life, a stronger start, and more opportunities. But here’s my honest question:
Why make them run in every race?
Why can’t a child just choose one path—be it football, painting, dance, math—and go deep into it? Why must we chase breadth when they crave depth?
Childhood is not a battleground of unfinished parental dreams. It’s a playground for self-discovery.
We all want our children to succeed. But what if success isn’t standing on the winner’s podium in five fields at once? What if it’s simply being joyful, curious, and deeply good at one thing they actually love?
In a world full of rat races, I choose to let my daughter jog, walk, pause, even skip… as long as she enjoys the journey.
13 Years Later: The Gym, the Pain, and the (Not-So-Flexible) Comeback
It’s been 6 days since I rejoined the gym in Madurai after 13 long years — and so far, I’ve been doing one thing consistently: stretching. And by stretching, I mean attempting to bend my body while it protests like an old rusted door.
The first 4 days were… let’s just say, humbling. My arms were so sore, my right bicep started pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own — tup-tup, as if to say, “Welcome back, buddy!”
Stretching used to be my favorite part of working out. Back in my old gym days, I’d look forward to it so much that I’d pester my trainer (and friend) Satheesh to stretch me out every chance I got. Fast forward to now — Satheesh runs his own gym, and it’s nostalgic being back under his guidance. With him around, even pain feels like a reunion tour — starring Me vs My Body.
The last two days, I finally started enjoying the stretches again. There’s a strange comfort in feeling slightly less stiff. Progress, right?
But the real villain in this comeback story? The foam roller for abs. Just thinking about it makes my stomach muscles whimper. I’ve tried using it for 6 days straight, but my core refuses to cooperate. I now understand why it’s called a “core” — because mine has gone completely missing.
Anyway, I’ve promised myself three months of pure discipline. No shortcuts. No giving up. First, I’ll get back to being normal. Then, slowly and steadily, I’ll work toward light workouts — you know, the kind that don’t make me look like a baby giraffe trying to stand.
So here I am. Six days in, halfway broken, slightly bent, but fully committed.
Let the comeback begin — one stiff stretch at a time.
Full Circle, But Not the Same Me
I don’t know if life has come full circle. But it feels like I’m standing at a point where I can see the consequences of every seed once sown — even the ones I regret planting. Time, as they say, is a strange healer. It doesn’t erase the past, but it dulls the sting. The rage, the grief, the helpless ache… they slowly dissolve into a kind of quiet understanding.
But there are scars that no healing touches. Wounds inflicted long ago — not by enemies, but by those I once held close — they carved something permanent into me. Not like the betrayal that came 17 years ago.
Some say, “They’re suffering now. Maybe you could reach out. Offer help. Give solace. Be the bigger person.”
And honestly? I could. By God’s grace, I now stand in a place where I can offer help — financially, emotionally, morally. I’ve walked through fire and come out carrying water. I *could* be that person. But my heart whispers otherwise.
Because some things are not meant to be mended.
There’s a saying in Tamil: **“Pambukku paal vaikkaradhu.”** You don’t offer milk to a snake. Not out of vengeance, but out of wisdom. Some people aren’t meant to return to your life — not because you wish them harm, but because they once destroyed what was sacred. Trust. Friendship. Brotherhood.
What God took away, He did for a reason. And what He gave in return — new people, real allies, relationships born in fire and forged in loyalty — they are my true blessings. I don’t curse the ones who broke me. I don’t wish ruin upon them. But I won’t let them walk back in either.
I’ve made peace, yes. But peace doesn’t mean reunion.
AnandNataraj 