In December 2019, I came to Mumbai with just four pairs of clothes.

The city was completely new to me. So were the people, the culture, and the pace of life. For the first year, we had almost nothing. Just a mattress, an induction cooker, and two fans that our landlord had provided.

Two months after I arrived, the lockdown hit Mumbai.

I was living in a COVID hotspot with no way to go back home. And then there was the Mumbai heat. We didn't have an AC. At night, we would keep the windows open just to get some air. Many nights, we stayed awake until 5:30 or 6 in the morning because the room was simply too hot to sleep.

That was my life then.

Today, I am just ten days away from getting the keys to my own home.

When I look back, I don't think those difficult days were wasted. They were uncomfortable. Sometimes frustrating. Sometimes genuinely hard.

But they taught me a few things that I probably wouldn't have learnt if life had been easier.

First, progress is not always visible.

There were years when I felt like I was just going through the motions. Work, responsibilities, bills, saving, planning. Nothing felt particularly significant while it was happening.

But all those small, ordinary days were taking me somewhere.

Second, you learn to make things work with what you have.

When you don't have much, you stop waiting for perfect conditions. You figure things out. You adjust. You make do. And eventually, you realise that you are more capable than you thought.

Third, patience is a skill.

Some things simply take time. You can work hard, plan properly, and still have to wait. I've learnt that not every delay means you're going backwards.

Sometimes, you are still moving forward. Just slower than you expected.

And finally, difficult phases can change what you value.

I don't think I would appreciate having a home in quite the same way if I hadn't experienced what it was like to start with almost nothing.

The house isn't just a purchase for me.

It represents years of work, saving, waiting, adjusting, and figuring things out. It is also a reminder of how different life can look from where you started.

Ten days from now, when I get those keys, I know I'll think about that small room in Mumbai.

Four pairs of clothes.

A mattress.

An induction cooker.

Two fans.

A city that was completely unfamiliar.

And a life that was just beginning.

The difficult days didn't disappear.

They became part of the story.