The art of failing fast

One night stands with failure

Last year around this time, I had a crucial decision to make. I was playing peek-a-boo with failure. When I looked it in the eye, I knew it was time for us to reunite. But each time I glanced away, the dreams I had set for myself seemed brighter than the morning sun.

Alas, we cuddled, kissed, and made love. Failure and I became one again. The next morning, I found it lying right beside me, snoring loud and clear. Knowing how needy a lover failure can be, I had no choice but to spend the week immobilized next to it—almost futile, nearly lifeless.

Failure is romantic only in retrospect. In the present, when its fangs pierce your lips, they only cause heartache and pain.

Enough foreplay, let me take you through my story.

In the winter of 2016, I got the opportunity to visit a beautiful village in Maharashtra by the name of Purushwadi. Known as the village of Fireflies, the village was special because it was adopted by an organization that kept the villagers at the centre and provided employment opportunities to them. Purushwadi, as a pristine village and also an eco-tourism wonder, was my first introduction to sustainable travel and tourism. We stayed in the village in modest tents, ate local food at the villagers' homes, bathed in the local river, hiked the mountain, and even played many village games.

Memories from Purushwadi

Those three days were transformational and left a deep impact on me. My perspective about how a village is and can look completely changed after that. After returning home, the fantastic idea of eco-tourism in villages travelled with me, and that’s all I could think about during my college lectures. A few months later, my two friends and I presented the idea of eco-tourism in villages at a startup competition, which won us a huge trophy and many accolades. We named the venture Ehsaas.

No sooner had I gotten the trophy than its photograph was up online on Facebook, in hopes of exponentially increasing my social status, which it did. It also led to a life-changing phone call from my high school best friend.

My friend called to congratulate me but also ended up inviting me to the role of co-founder of his 3D printing startup! Wait, what? I was utterly confused.

• I didn’t know a thing about 3D printers.

• I was technologically challenged.

• I had other goals and dreams in mind (pursuing the Teach for India fellowship).

• I had no idea my friend had a 3D printing startup!

My friend had built a 3D printer by himself in engineering college, and he wanted to build a business around it. He was excellent in tech and wanted somebody (me) to join his team as a co-founder and take up other verticals.

At that point in time, I didn’t even know what other verticals existed, but sure, I loved what my friend was doing. Trusting him, knowing very well that he was the smarter person in the team, I joined him as a co-founder of a startup-to-be.

We had numerous meetings, met several times, and over the next two years, tried and tested many things. I moved to Bangalore for a month during my summer break as a TFI fellow to give the 3D printing business my everything. We hired interns, went to schools, launched a website, burned lakhs of rupees, and by June 2018, it was clear that this wasn’t our cup of tea.

This was our first official startup failure. We didn’t do much and didn’t give it our all, but as per the constraints and restrictions on us at that time, we surely did our best.

While we were defeated in the 3D printing business, the intoxication of starting something of our own and giving it our all was acting upon us.

In the later years, we discussed and spent a lot of time on other ideas.

• Hydroponics

• Agri-tech

• Vegan cloud kitchen

The next idea on which we spent a lot of time and money was a tofu brand we were working on. However, the second wave of the pandemic hit us emotionally and mentally quite hard, and we let the plans rest forever.

We were a good team; we worked like brothers, rarely had any arguments or fights, and we respected each other’s skillset and values a lot. The thing is, we both were very similar in personality. Neither of us had the “doer” energy or the “let’s go get it” energy. I loved the design part of things while my friend loved the technology part of it. What we lacked was someone who would join the third pie and become the business, marketing pie.

All along these years, we both always had full-time jobs, so that was a hindrance as well.

In June 2022, I quit my job for good and went travelling across Spiti, Zanskar, and Ladakh solo on my motorcycle. (More on that later.)

When I returned home, I was brimming with the energy and intent to start something on my own and give it my blood and sweat. This time, I decided to go solo and only speak to my friend as a consultant/advisor. We decided that he would join me only when the startup that I was working on gained a credible pace. Until then, I would reach out to him only for support and assistance. This was decided so that I could take all decisions swiftly by myself and not waste time on endless calls, as I was in Jaipur at this point in time and my friend was in Bangalore.

At the end of February 2023, an idea struck me while I was having coffee. I started having ground coffee during the pandemic, and I observed how after every cup, there were a handful of coffee grounds left with no purpose. Since coffee is expensive, I actively tried to deploy them somewhere—sometimes in plants, sometimes as an odorizer in the fridge and other times as a DIY body scrub. I did this for two years. However, it was only in February 2023 that it hit me: What happens to the coffee grounds left in cafes?

6 months of running my brand

When we brew coffee using fresh coffee beans, we first grind the beans to get ground coffee. Then we mix hot water with the ground coffee to create a beautiful cup of coffee. However, since the coffee grounds are not soluble in water, after the water has passed through the ground coffee, it leaves behind the used coffee grounds.

I’ll leave out the details, but from March 2023 to October 2023, I breathed, thought, and lived my life entirely around this idea. This time, I went all in. The very next day after I got the idea, I was on Google Maps looking for people who could collaborate with me to make prototype products. I made several prototype products using different use cases of coffee grounds while continuing to do experiments at home. I handled the marketing all by myself and launched my brand in July. Brew Renew was an instant hit and was getting great response and word from everyone. People loved the idea, the branding, the design, and wanted to be part of the movement. I got instrumental support from my friends, family, and acquaintances. I was on cloud nine until I crashed headfirst into the crust of the earth.

My idea of repurposing coffee grounds was to make something sustainable, economical, and natural using the innate properties of coffee grounds. However, I ended up doing what most brands do—greenwashing. Even though I didn’t intend to, I was selling products in plastic containers that contained minimal coffee grounds, and I was out of product ideas that used the maximum amount of coffee grounds and produced no waste. When this realization dawned on me, my motivation to work hard and run my startup dissolved into thin air. While my products were being sold and money was coming in, I was frantically searching all corners of the internet and speaking to people left, right, and centre to find at least one use case that would help me achieve my dream of a product that didn’t require plastic in any step and used a big amount of coffee grounds.

Soon enough, I found myself staring at my own products and hating them. The brand that I had built with so much love, devotion, and hard work didn’t appeal to me anymore. I had to make a decision, and it was the toughest thing I have ever done.

I didn’t have the courage or guts to make this public, so I just slowly retreated back into my shell and went incognito.

That’s when I knew there was no other option but to hug the cactus. It pierced every cell of my body, but it also made me porous and allowed for freshness to flow through me and in me eventually.

I have failed on numerous other occasions:

2013 - Failed mock IIT exam in junior college.
2014 - Failed my pre-boards.
2014 - Failed in two subjects in college.
2017 - Failed in my first startup - 3D Printers.
2020 - Got rejected from many job applications.
2020 - Got rejected out of a startup incubator.
2020 - Volunteered at a permaculture farm only to return knowing that farming wasn’t for me.
2021 - Failed in my second startup - Tofu.
2022 - Did a Yoga Teacher Training course in Goa only to realize that yoga teaching wasn’t for me.
2023 - Failed in my most ambitious project ever - Coffee recycling startup.
2024 - Got rejected from multiple job applications.

This is not a “failure is a stepping stone to success” story. It’s just a story that acknowledges failure. School, parents, and society make us wary of failure, treating it as if it’s a demon to avoid—like a dementor that will suck away your soul. I’m not saying that failure is romantic or pleasant.

Failure is a part of life, and it occupies much more space than success. We ride the waves of failure to reach moments of success. Failure is a loyal companion, while the definitions and parameters of success constantly shift.

What I did right was to fail fast and fail hard. Over time, the line between failure and success has gradually blurred for me. The waves of both sides crash into each other, almost as if they long to merge into one.

What would that look like? Failure and success as a coupled identity—would it just be another event in life?

I’m not sure. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. Right now, I’m in a good place—neither failing nor successful. It feels like the perfect place to be. I’ve come to understand that if fate drags me to either extreme, life will inevitably push me back the other way.

So, I don’t have the desire to “make it” as a writer. I don’t need to be an award-winning photographer, and I’m genuinely fine if this newsletter doesn’t achieve anything remarkable. I’m here, I’m breathing, and as long as I can create, that’s enough.

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As a feature of all my newsletters, I share one song, one book, one plant-based meal, one film/video that inspired me, and some photographic updates from my life.

• Song: Got back to listening to this beautiful song after ages. Atif Aslam, you’re divine.

• Book/Newsletter: I’m currently reading All About Love by Bell Hooks. A dear friend gifted it to me for my birthday, and the title intrigued me. I’ve been absolutely loving it so far.

• Meal: I’m back home in Bir, and the cooking has resumed. I really enjoyed preparing and savoring this comforting meal of Rajma Chawal.

  

• Film/Video: Last week, I recommended Cities of Sleep despite not having watched it yet. Knowing that the director, Shaunak Sen, is an Academy Award nominee, I assumed it would be worth the watch.

  And it absolutely is. Cities of Sleep is one of the finest documentaries I’ve seen—a profound exploration of what sleep means to a particular group of people. It’s deeply philosophical, with brilliant editing, all wrapped in the harsh reality it presents. A must-watch.

• Photograph: Here is a visual postcard from Gunehar, Himachal.

Hope you have a brilliant day and week ahead. Thank you for reading.