Between September 2002 and September 2004, we built something unforgettable. Our office wasn’t in a fancy building or a posh tech park. It was tucked inside a TNHB quarters apartment in Valmiki Nagar, Kottivakkam. But for us, it felt like Silicon Valley.

Renting that space with self-earned money brought a satisfaction that can’t be fully put into words—it was something only a hustler’s heart could feel.

We began as a humble team of 8, packed with energy, grit, and ideas. Within two years, we had grown into a 40-member unit that breathed ambition. We set up everything ourselves—our very own Samba server, our desks, our dreams. Vel Sir stood by us, offering assembled computers on credit when funds were tight. We didn’t have an air conditioner when we started; the heat from the Chennai sun and CRT monitors turned the place into a furnace. But we endured.

We hustled in sweat, but not in despair.

Slowly, we upgraded—one A/C at a time. We set up a tiny kitchen for tea and coffee. We insisted that everyone must volunteer to prepare coffee or tea in that kitchen. Many resisted in the beginning. But soon, everyone took their turn—each cup brewed with pride, with patience. That pantry transformed into our bonding zone, our ritual, our daily pause between lines of code.

Every milestone—big or small—was celebrated with team lunches. From every corner restaurant in Besant Nagar to the iconic joints in Adyar, we made those places our own.

I practically lived in that office. My routine? Wake up at 5 AM, dash home to shower, and be back by 7:30. The location was a dream in itself—sea-facing, serene, and soul-fueling. The Sindoor Sea Club next door lit up weekends, Diwalis, and New Year’s Eves. I walked the beach to stay fit. I walked it again at midnight to clear my mind.

There were nights I rode solo on my Calibre bike from Valmiki Nagar to Mahabalipuram. Back then, ECR after 8 PM was a ghost road—no streetlights, no traffic, no cops, not even open tea stalls. But I needed that silence. That solitude was therapy.

Night shows at Prarthana or Mayajaal were my release. The rest of the time, we were a silent storm—working with focus, building in stealth. No one believed in us yet, but we did. We learned to smile through the struggle, to lead without applause, to hustle without hashtags.

There were times when the weight of challenges felt unbearable. But that location, that ocean breeze, those midnight drives—they helped me breathe, helped me bounce back.

Those two years weren’t just about building a company. They were about building character.