People often say life has a funny way of coming full circle.
I never really understood what that meant until recently.
Eleven years ago, I walked into one of the biggest assignments of my career, barely knowing where it would eventually take me.
I had just joined the company. Everything was new. The people, the culture, the expectations, even the language everyone spoke. I was still learning names, still figuring out who did what, still trying not to make mistakes.
And then I was handed one of the biggest events the company had ever organised at that time.
The groundbreaking ceremony of what was then simply known as the third railway line.
Three thousand guests.
A sitting Prime Minister.
Months of planning.
Thousands of tiny details that nobody would ever notice if everything went well, but everyone would notice if something went wrong.
I remember the anxiety more than anything else.
Back then, I thought the ceremony was about launching a railway project.
Today, I realise it was also launching me.
Over the next eleven years, that railway grew.
Piece by piece.
Station by station.
Delays after delays.
While the tracks were slowly taking shape, so was I.
My career changed.
I made mistakes.
I learned to lead.
I learned to make difficult decisions.
I learned how to communicate during good days and even harder during bad ones.
I learned that corporate life isn’t built only on strategies and KPIs.
Sometimes it’s built on resilience.
Sometimes it’s built on showing up when you’re exhausted.
Sometimes it’s built on quietly carrying responsibilities that nobody else sees.
People often say success comes from blood, sweat and tears.
I’m not too sure about the blood part.
But there were definitely sweat and tears.
Lots of them.
And then, eleven years later, I found myself standing there again.
Not at the beginning.
At the finish line.
The official launch of the very same railway line.
What was once empty land had become stations.
Steel had become trains.
Construction drawings had become passengers.
An idea had become reality.
And I couldn’t help but realise…
The railway wasn’t the only thing that had been built over those eleven years.
So had I.
Standing there that day felt strangely emotional.
Not because of the speeches.
Not because of the VIPs.
Not even because of the railway itself.
It was because, without planning it, I had witnessed the entire story.
Very few people get to say they were there when something began…
…and were still there when it finally came to life.
That felt incredibly humbling.
Perhaps that’s what a full circle really is.
Not arriving back at where you started.
But arriving back as someone completely different.
As fate would have it, this full circle carries another meaning for me.
Not long after the launch, I’ll be leaving the company.
People have asked whether I’m sad.
The honest answer?
Yes.
But if I had to choose one feeling that outweighs the sadness…
It would be gratitude.
Because not everyone gets the privilege of closing a chapter so beautifully.
Not everyone gets to witness the beginning and the ending.
Not everyone gets to leave knowing the story they helped write has become part of people’s everyday lives.
Every train that leaves the station.
Every passenger who boards.
Every family that gets home a little earlier.
Somewhere, in a very small way, I’ll know I was part of that story too.
People often think a full circle means the journey is over.
I don’t think so.
I think it simply means one chapter has been written exactly the way it was meant to be.
And somewhere else…
another chapter is quietly waiting to begin.
Alhamdulillah… and bismillah…
Written by A.
Balancing duty in public service and care at home, she writes from the heart of both worlds.