I didn't start coding because someone told me to.
There was no career counselor, no parent pushing me toward it, no school assignment that sparked something. I started because I was obsessed with one idea: creating things instead of just consuming them.
I'd spend hours watching tech videos, exploring random software, breaking things, fixing them, breaking them again. The whole ecosystem AI, futuristic systems, communities, events, branding all of it fascinated me. But it wasn't about becoming a developer. It was pure curiosity. It was the feeling that somewhere inside all of this, I could build things that only existed in my head.
The moment that clicked, I just kept going deeper.
That was four years ago. I was still in school.
The Trap I Fell Into Early: Perfecting the Vision Instead of Shipping It
I think big. Always have.
When I get an idea, I don't just see the first version I see the whole thing. The scale, the community around it, the systems underneath it, the experience someone would have using it three years from now.
For a long time, I thought that was a strength. And in some ways it is. But I learned the hard way that thinking too far ahead without executing in the present is just a comfortable way to avoid the discomfort of starting.
I'd plan projects in extreme detail. Build mental structures around them. Imagine the future scale of what they could become. And then delay actually building them because they didn't feel ready enough yet.
Nothing is ever ready enough. That's not a cliche it's something you only really understand after watching a perfectly planned project die in a notebook while a half-baked idea someone else shipped becomes real.
The other thing I learned the hard way: motivation isn't a system. Some days you feel unstoppable. Some days you don't want to touch anything. I used to wait for the motivated days. Now I build anyway. The consistency of showing up even on the flat days is what separates things that get finished from things that stay ideas.
The Moment It Stopped Feeling Like Practice
There's a specific feeling I remember.
It was when people started looking at me for direction instead of me looking at others.
Not because I announced anything. Not because I put a title on it. Just because things I had imagined clubs, events, workshops, systems, communities had become real enough that other people were experiencing them. Things that were random thoughts in my head were now things that existed in the world, that people showed up for, that had a life outside of me.
That was the moment it started feeling real.
Not the first time code ran. Not the first time a project worked. It was the first time I looked at something and thought I made that. It didn't exist before me. Now it does.
That feeling is still what drives everything.
The Part Nobody Talks About: It Can Feel Lonely
Most people in my college knew me as the tech and community guy. Teachers noticed the clubs and workshops and events. Students would come to me for direction on technical things.
But the actual journey the real learning happened almost entirely outside of classrooms.
YouTube videos at midnight. Random communities online. Experimenting with things nobody around me was experimenting with. Failing at ideas that nobody around me even understood well enough to tell me were bad ideas.
When you're trying to build things that are bigger than your current environment, there's a part of the journey that feels internally lonely. Not in a sad way. Just in a I'm figuring this out without a map kind of way.
I don't think that's a bad thing. I think it's just what it actually feels like to be early on something. The people around you are living in the present version of the world. You're spending your energy trying to build the next one.
What I Actually Know Now That I Didn't Know Then
Execution matters more than potential.
That's it. That's the whole lesson.
You can have the best ideas, the clearest vision, genuine talent, and real ambition and none of it matters if things never get finished. The world doesn't reward people for what they were capable of. It rewards people for what they actually shipped.
I used to think bigger was always better. That the scale of your vision was the measure of your seriousness. Now I think the real skill — the one that actually compounds over time is learning how to sustainably turn ideas into reality. How to build systems around your work instead of relying on energy and inspiration. How to finish things. How to be patient with the process without losing the ambition that started it.
My biggest growth over these four years isn't that I learned how to think bigger.
It's that I'm learning how to build better.
Four years in. First year of college. A funded AI lab, a multi-agent system in development, and a patent in progress.
And genuinely, the most useful thing I can tell anyone starting out is this: start before you're ready, ship before it's perfect, and stay consistent when the motivation runs out.
Everything else is details.
Nidhish Akolkar is an Indian AI Systems Engineer, systems architect, and emerging technical voice in autonomous AI infrastructure. Based in Pune, India, he builds large-scale multi-agent AI systems, distributed execution architectures, and production-grade generative AI workflows designed for real-world deployment. He leads a funded institutional AI & ML laboratory and is recognized for his work on orchestration systems, AI reliability, and scalable intelligent infrastructure.
GitHub: github.com/nidhishakolkar01-lgtm
LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/nidhish-a-akolkar-30a33238b
