The love story of my first career move: 6LPA to 15LPA

I saw the post about Deloitte offer letter and the response to that was very positive. It has inspired me to pen down my story in some way.

Last night, while digging through old files, I found my first offer letter from Lenskart. The words blurred a bit from my tears as I read them because, honestly, this letter meant everything to me. It was my first break into Product Management, a career I’d wanted so badly I could almost feel it in my bones. Looking back, that moment was one of the scariest of my life.

But to really understand what that letter meant, you’d need to know what led up to it.

I spent the first two years of my career in a comfortable role as a business analyst. The pay was okay-ish? around 6 LPA, and the work was fine. My days were pretty chill, and the people around me seemed satidfied. But inside, I felt like I was suffocating. Every day, a voice in the back of my mind would ask: Is this it? Is this all there is?

But the desire for more grew stronger every day. I wanted to build something, to take ownership of my work in a way I’d never felt before. Product Management seemed like the answer because I did not have the right pedigree and idea to start my own thing, but I had no formal training, no roadmap, and zero connections in the field. My friends warned me against it: “It’s too competitive. Work for few more years and then see.”

That was the first wave of fear, and I almost gave in. But the feeling of stagnation, of letting my own potential slip away, was worse than the fear of failure. I started learning whatever I could about Product Management in my spare time, spending nights reading about user journeys, prioritization, and product-market fit.

When the PM role panned out at Lenskart, I felt that same fear, but this time, it was mixed with a lot of happiness. I applied, not knowing if they’d take me seriously. When they offered me 15 LPA + some signing bonus, I felt a rush of emotions I still can’t put into words.

The first few months were brutal. I was scared every single day. I’d lie awake at night, questioning if I’d made a terrible mistake, wondering if I was about to ruin everything I’d worked so hard for. I used to puke every other night from anxiety.

Back then, I had been in a long-distance relationship with my girlfriend, who was studying architecture in Tokyo.

We met during an internship program years before, and even though we knew the odds of making it work across continents were slim, we couldn’t let go. We spent years navigating time zones, planning occasional visits, and exchanging long video calls at odd hours.

She had this incredible belief in me, constantly encouraging me to go after the PM role, even when I was filled with doubts. Her faith was what kept me steady when my anxiety was overwhelming.

That first year at Lenskart was tough. The workload was intense, and I was trying to prove myself every day, feeling like I was barely keeping up.

But her presence, even from afar, was a constant anchor. Late nights, I’d sit by my laptop talking with her and listening to her updates from architecture school.

It was as if the two of us were climbing our own mountains, side by side despite the distance.

So, a few months later, I scraped together my savings, used some of my signing bonus, and flew to Tokyo to propose to her.

I still remember the look in her eyes when she saw me standing at the arrivals gate. We hadn’t seen each other in over a year, and there I was, down on one knee at the airport, holding out a ring.

She said yes, and we promised we’d finally close the distance.

Today, her and I are building our life together. I’m still working as a PM but at a different company now, and she’s super in her career as an architect.

We’ve had our share of ups and downs, but every challenge feels worth it because I know we’re facing it together.

That offer letter from Lenskart was my first big leap of faith, and it opened the doors to a life I’d only dreamed of. It finally allowed me to make enough money to do all the things that both of us wanted to do.

So to anyone reading this, if you’re stuck, wondering if you should take that risk, or if the dream is worth the work, take the leap