I used to think one closed door meant every other door would stay closed. Oh, how wrong I was, because one closed door does not mean that I won't have any other such opportunity. Yet, that is exactly how my design exams felt.
I had spent months thinking that getting into a design college would be my destination, even when I had this small voice inside of me that kept on whispering, “No, it's not your destiny, at least not yet.” But I kept on denying it because, oh well, what does silly old voice know? I know better.
And then, I failed the DAT (Design Aptitude Test).
After not sleeping peacefully for the past three months, after putting so much of myself into something I genuinely believed was going to decide my future, I failed. And, well, turns out that silly voice was right after all.
Instead of thinking, this is just a setback, I thought, Am I doing everything wrong? Do I even deserve to have this life? Is my art even good enough?
For months, I let those voices drag me from one place to another until I finally thought, you know what, I should try architecture. There was a reason why an-year-younger me wanted it so badly. It should have some kind of significance, no?
And it did. It really did.
I applied for architecture and started learning so much. I still remember when I was crying over my NID result, and then, a few months later, I was sitting in that auditorium waiting for my name to be called, with all of these voices in my head going, “Oh my God, you're so dumb. Why are you even doing this?”
I was scared of the place.
The thing is, you don't become scared of a place just because you don't have somebody there for you. Sometimes, you feel scared or intimidated because you don't even trust yourself to be able to do it.
I had my family by my side. They were like, “Are you sure about architecture? What happened to design? Why do you not want it anymore?”
And I would say, “Well, architecture was the dream.”
Architecture was the dream even before design. In fact, architecture was the reason why I gave design a shot in the first place. And honestly, the setback of design made me realise that maybe I wasn't really ready for it.
After joining architecture, I realised I was meant to be doing this.
I still remember my first ever architecture sheet and how proud I was of it. I still remember my first ever jury and how scared for life I was, especially considering I got sick just before my jury.
remember all the little things that seemed so overwhelming at the time but somehow became memories I now look back at with a strange kind of fondness.
The setback made me meet all of these amazing people I never thought I'd ever meet. I still remember getting my first-semester result and thinking, OMG, I was really meant to do this.
And then came second sem. Oh well, I don't really remember it because it went just as fast as it came.
Then came the year-end break of two months. I joined Samvaad, not really knowing where it would take me, and I still remember jumping up and down when I found out that, out of 217 participants, I was in the top 10.
And now, while writing this article, I realise just how many things helped me after that setback.
It wasn't one big moment that suddenly made everything okay. It was all these tiny moments. The first sheet I was proud of. The first jury I survived. The people I met. The results I never expected. The opportunities I almost didn't take. The little voice that I once thought was silly. Maybe that closed door wasn't there to tell me that I wasn't good enough.
Maybe it was just pointing me somewhere else. Looking back, I don't think the setback itself made me stronger. I think everything that came after it did. It was the people I met, the things I created, the sheets I stayed up finishing, the juries I was terrified of, the results that made me proud and even the ones that didn't. It was slowly learning that I could walk into a room without knowing anyone and still find my place there.
I spent so much time thinking that failing one exam meant I had failed at something much bigger. But I hadn't. I had simply reached the end of a path I thought I was supposed to take.
And maybe that's what I want the younger version of me, the one crying over that NID result, to know. You don't always have to understand why a door closes. You don't even have to be okay with it immediately. Sometimes you just have to keep walking until you find the door you were actually meant to open.
Because one closed door doesn't mean every other door will stay closed.
Sometimes, it just means you finally get to find out what's on the other side of the next one.
Published as part of V Devi Foundation’s From Setback to Strength Article Writing Competition 2026. The reflections and experiences expressed are those of the author.