My father retired about five years ago. He’s kept himself busy with different intellectual and social pursuits, but this thought that has crossed my mind many times, today, and for no particular reason, hit me harder than ever—his identity was so deeply tied to his work.

He spent 30-odd years at one of India’s top automobile giants, rising to the top, earning respect, security, money, even a certain kind of “fame.” Everything a man from his generation worked towards, sometimes at the cost of his relationships.

Now, when I look at him, I sometimes feel he’s lost. Not because he’s unhappy, but because his sense of achievement, that rush, that excitement seem missing. His entire life was defined by his work. And when you take that away, what remains?

I don’t want that for myself. When I retire, whatever that means, especially in the age of abundance and AI, I don’t want my life to feel like it was built around a single, unidimensional identity. I want it to be filled with things I loved, explored, and created.