We all have moments when the desire to belong overrides logic. It’s not always about identity or status. Sometimes it’s simply the raw, human need for community, for being seen, wanted, and valued exactly as we are.
A few weeks ago, I found myself chasing that feeling in an unexpected place: The Foundery bootcamp.
On paper, I wasn’t the ideal candidate. I already had multiple projects pulling me in different directions. Too many jars, not enough hands. Yet something compelled me to apply anyway, more for the experience than any real expectation. To my surprise, I was selected and invited to join 80 other driven individuals for an intense five-day immersion.
The schedule was brutal: 6 a.m. starts with yoga & fitness, and 2 a.m. finishes with networking and parties. The rest of the day was sprinkled with Design sprints, impromptu presentations, speaker sessions, and 1-on-1 walks with the who’s who of the indian startup scene.
Sleep was a luxury we rarely afforded. But within that pressure cooker, something remarkable happened. Strangers became teammates. Competition coexisted with genuine support. We laughed, debated, pushed each other, and somehow built real bonds. By the end, it felt like we’d forged a new family:
A network of high-calibre people all destined for big things, united by ambition and mutual belief.
When the bootcamp wrapped, we left carrying that sense of connection. The organisers emphasised that everyone would remain part of the broader Foundery family, no matter the outcome. I appreciated the gesture, especially since I’d always known my profile didn’t perfectly align with what they were seeking for the next phase.
Then came the news: I wouldn’t be moving forward to build one of the new ventures with them.
I wasn’t devastated. I’d gone in with eyes open. But quietly, almost uninvited, a familiar whisper crept in: You’re not enough. You’re not chosen.
The more I sat with that feeling, the clearer it became that it wasn’t really about rejection from a specific program. It was about a deeper loneliness I’d been carrying: the ache of wanting to break into that elusive circle of “successful” people, the ones who seem to move through a different stratosphere of access, conversations, and opportunities.
I’ve always been willing to learn, grow, and adapt. But in that moment, doubt asked the hard question:
What if I’m simply not good enough for that world? What if my path is never meant to coincide with this?
Everyone at the bootcamp looked ready to sacrifice massively to be there. I’ve been fortunate that I’ve had the luxury to build slowly and profitably at my own pace. Maybe that’s part of it. Maybe my journey doesn’t look like the same all-or-nothing that others seem to have. It doesn’t make it easier or harder; it just makes it mine.
The Foundery felt like a window into the life I was craving:
higher-level exposure, sharper peers, a different rhythm.
Not getting through closed that window, at least for now. It left me standing back at square one… though not quite the same square one I started from. I’ve grown. I’ve tasted what’s possible. I’ve seen the calibre of people I want to surround myself with.
I still wish I’d been selected. But wishing doesn’t rewrite reality.
What remains is gratitude for the experience, for the friendships formed in sleep-deprived intensity, and for the reminder that belonging isn’t granted by any single program, selection committee, or network. It’s built through consistent effort, shared values, and showing up authentically, again and again.
I’m happy for everyone who gets to build alongside incredible teams at The Foundery. Their wins feel like proof that the kind of community I’m seeking does exist.
In the meantime,
the path ahead is mine to shape on my terms, at my pace, but with renewed clarity about what I want. The world is still wide open. I’ll explore it differently, perhaps more deliberately now.
For today, it’s back to work. With slightly less doubt and a little more faith in the journey ahead.