I grew up in a middle class family. We didn’t have the luxury of going on picnics every weekend or spending the summer vacation in the Bahamas. So, the only source of entertainment was television.
I was obsessed with movies. I grew up watching Indian cinema, popularly known as Bollywood. I laughed when the hero laughed, I cried when the hero was beaten up by the baddies, and I surged with anger when the hero wasn’t allowed to marry the love of his life because of the rich father (this happened in almost 90% of the movies). And my little innocent mind couldn’t understand that what they showed in the movies was not real.
It was entertaining. I loved it. But there was something subtle happening inside the layers of my innocent mind: I was getting conditioned. They were movie stars. They were rich and successful. They had all the social proof to convince me it was real. And I believed them.
This planted a seed inside my mind: if you want respect and want to marry the love of your life, you have to be rich and successful. Women are biologically programmed to choose a mate who is most capable of ensuring the survival of her children (financially strong) or if you look like Brad Pitt.
I had none.
So, by the age of 15, I figured out a plan that all I needed was to write a few novels. I’d be both rich and famous. Little did I know, the world is a cruel place. It didn’t take long for me to understand, I needed a change of plan.
I got out of school. I got out of college. I worked as an engineer. I did a bunch of creative jobs. And after 8 years of climbing the “ladder,” I believed I had finally made it. Everything I did, I did for money, even when I hated it (now I understand why Maslow put survival and safety at the bottom).
I had made a little money, but I still didn’t feel satisfied. There was always this feeling of something missing. I felt incomplete. That pushed me into the world of self-improvement. I had been an avid fiction reader, but this was a totally different animal.
I was sucked in.
I completely reinvented myself. Learned body-language to a point of obsession, behavioral psychology (trust me, I was reading books they taught at Harvard), read thick philosophy books, and learned to talk like a well read intellectual.
I learned to dress like old money. Learned high class etiquette. I even taught myself to speak with a British accent (I can speak with any accent btw, it was something I used to be obsessed about).
I observed that people noticed. They changed the way they treated me. It worked. So I threw in a few more things: branded clothes, watches, a car, throwing wild parties. The ego rush was exhilarating.
But that empty feeling returned to haunt me night after night.
Trust me, I was not that person. But back then, I had no idea why I was doing all that. I had drifted too far away from myself. I was running away from something. I could feel it, but I just couldn’t pinpoint what it really was.
But then I entered a phase of my life where everything I had built came crumbling down.
The 4 months of Isolation
It was 2020. And for the first time in my life I spent 4 months in total isolation. The only human contact I had in those 4 months was when I went out for groceries.
In those 4 months, I deeply observed myself. Who I was? How did I become that? And most importantly, why did I become that? And that’s when I came to one of the biggest realizations of my life—that everything I had done till then was for validation from the world.
To feel that my existence mattered. That I was somebody. But deep down, I knew I was nobody (hence the name Master Nobody, now you know it). I was nothing but flesh and bones wrapped around emptiness. And everything I did was just to fill that emptiness.
And then, I dropped the baggage I had been carrying all my life.
I became a minimalist. But I never saw minimalism as a label or just as a physical thing or a lifestyle where you live only what you need most. For me, it was mental. For me, minimalism was detachment.
It was the understanding that, however hard you may try to deny it, the fundamental nature of existence is emptiness. It’s an eternal void that nothing can fill. And instead of running away from it, I had to embrace it with open arms.
The whole picture was clear. It was the movies that put false ideas inside my head, and it was the expectations of the world that forced me to chase a materialistic life. That day, I came to peace with myself. I accepted myself.
I decided, no matter what people say or expect, I would just do me. And trust me, I have never been happier.
Now, it doesn’t mean that you should give up all possessions and become a monk. I still love collecting books, hand-made little artsy things, and exotic coffee and tea. But I do it just for myself, not to impress someone. It’s not a means to an end, it’s an end in itself.
If you’d like to read more about my story (and learn a few lessons in between), you can check out my book ‘Born to Stand Out‘.
I don’t hate money. I love it. I work hard to earn it. But the ‘why’ behind it has changed. It’s not to earn the validation of the world, but to satisfy the 3 principles of my life. It gives me the freedom to do:
– Whatever I want
– Whenever I want
– Wherever I want
It gives me the freedom to explore and study life without having to worry about bills, gas, or groceries.
And above all, it gives me mental peace to dedicate my life to the ultimate question : “Who am I?”.
For me, that is enough.
Stay blessed,
– Karun