I started gambling at the ripe old age of nine.
It began with three-card poker with childhood friends. A few coins on the line. The thrill of winning — or losing — didn’t matter much. What mattered was the rush. That strange, heady cocktail of hope and fear. Adrenaline in the veins.
And that feeling stayed with me — through my teenage years, into my 30s, and all the way to my early 50s.
For decades, I gambled — on cricket, horses, weather, football, the markets, friendships, and decisions.
Then, about 45 years later, I finally made my last money gamble.
Not when I moved to Rishikesh.
But the day I began building Aavya.
Ironically, that was also the day the biggest gamble of my life began.
From Millionaire to Borrowing ₹5,000
There was a time I could write a ₹50 lakh cheque without blinking, and now i may still owe someone 5,000 i borrowed a couple of months ago
Money wasn’t a concern. I lent to friends, invested in builders’ high-yield debt, dabbled in startups. I had assets. Security. A prestigious address. I was almost a dollar millionaire.
And then — through relentless trading in the stock market and reckless lending and questionable investments— I lost 90% of what I had built over three decades.
Let’s call it what it was.
Not trading or investing
Gambling
I was a gambler. Calling myself a trader just made it sound respectable — to myself and to others.
Then I came to Rishikesh.
But I didn’t stop gambling when I moved.
I stopped the day I started building Aavya.
A Small Dream… That Grew
It started small. Just three rooms, two spa rooms, and a yoga shala.
The idea was simple: live honestly, simply, and build something beautiful.
My needs weren’t many. I still had some money. The project felt sweet and manageable — a little boutique dream.
But the dream had other plans.
It grew.
And it grew faster than my bank balance.
One phase led to the next.
New terraces, A garden. A café. A pottery studio. A new outdoor stusio. Some more rooms.
All without a safety net.
Just a mix of dreams, madness, creativity —
some say foolishness.
Then Starts the Borrowing…
The first money I borrowed was from my sister. Then my mother. Then a few cousins.
My mom still worries about me every day — and she’s also the most excited every time I get a room booking.
Along the way, I liquidated everything else — mutual funds, insurance policies, even my old car in Mumbai.
Still not enough. The project had now ballooned to three or four times what I initially imagined.
So I maxed out my credit cards.
That too ran out.
And so began the next phase — asking everyone and anyone who believed in me to help keep the wheels turning. In a way it beacame./..
In a way community funded…
Landlords agreed to delayed rent.
Vendors extended credit lines.
Labourers agreed to delayed payments.
Team members waited patiently their salary
Guests paid in advance for stays they hadn’t even booked yet.
A couple of kind friends lent what they could.
Eventually, those options ran dry too.
Then came the local moneylenders.
Yes, the very ones every business article warns you about.
But the work had already begun. The dice had been rolled. There was no turning back.
The Game Continues
Each month, I somehow make it work — salaries, EMIs, rent.
Then I blink and realize a new month has already begun. And the cycle continues.
Always a few lakhs short in the cash flow.
Sometimes there’s a tear in my eye.
Sometimes I wonder, “Did I bite off more than I can chew?”
And then I laugh — because I know I can chew it.
Optimism as a Survival Skill
My sister says, “Ashish, you’re the biggest optimist I know.”
And maybe I am.
I was an optimist when I lost 50 of my capital%.
Still smiling at 70%.
Still standing at 90%.
What else is there?
Optimism isn’t a choice. It’s in my DNA.
Sure, I Lost Money… But I Gained Something Else
I stepped away from the stock charts and computer screens —
and started building something with my hands.
With my heart.
With love.
Something real.
And maybe that’s the real win.
Because if you can stay an optimist
if you don’t stay stuck crying over your failures
that’s where life begins to grow again.
Why No Investors?
Some smart, successful investors have asked if they could invest Equity in Aavya.
And I’ve said no. Every time.
Not because I don’t need the money. I really do.
Not because I want to hoard it all.
But because…
Who builds something like this — without guaranteed returns — just because it’s beautiful?
Who will love it the way I do?
This isn’t a startup.
This isn’t a business plan.
This is my way of building something that may not make sense to everyone — but feels right to me.
I’d rather take the pain
than live with a partner who doesn’t share the same soul.
And yes — there is debt.
But until every rupee of that is cleared,
I haven’t and won’t take a single rupee for myself.
Not counting coffee. Or cigarettes. (By the way, today is my 55th Birthday 31 st July, and I gave up Cigarettes today)
Writing this in public to keep myself accountable…on the money….on the cigarettes
The Team Is Aavya
People often say, “Your team’s salaries are too high for Rishikesh.”
Maybe they are.
Every single person who joins the team —
whether they stay or leave —
adds something to the bricks and spirit of this place.
I want them to grow — financially, emotionally, and in skill.
I want them to look back one day and say:
“I grew at Aavya.”
A New Relationship with Money
Once, money meant security.
Assets. Retirement. Stability.
Now?
Money is about what can be built with soul.
With character.
With love.
And if I have to choose between building something soulful
or keeping something safe in a bank —
I’ll build.
And live with the consequences.
For the last nine months, the money has often left the account
before it even entered.
And still — the debt hasn’t spun out of control.
The business has been profitable since Month Two.
We’ve built something real.
And that’s a start.
Still Smiling. Still an Optimist.
I’m 55 now.
Aavya started just over a year ago.
It’s grown fast.
Maybe too fast.
Maybe just fast enough.
There are days of joy.
And days of anxiety.
Days when I’m tired of thinking — for the 100th time — where the next payment will come from.
But what keeps me going isn’t just the numbers.
It’s the energy people feel when they arrive.
The silence they find.
The healing they didn’t even know they needed.
The coffee on the terrace.
The forest breeze.
The pottery wheel.
The dance studio.
The sense that something is different here.
And each morning, I wake up to the birds and the green hills —
and I remember why I’m here.
Rishikesh has changed me.
And Aavya… well, Aavya has its own destiny.
It’s my yoga — my duty — to do what is required
for Aavya to become what it’s meant to be.
Not just for my balance sheet to look good.
Sure, the cash flow still aches.
But the season is about to begin.
Some say August.
Some say September.
Some say October.
Let’s see.
The story is still being written.
But for now —
Aavya is still here.
The people are having an amazing time.
The food? Delicious.
The team? Growing — in talent, in purpose.
And so are the vibes.
And so is the weather.
Sometimes it rains.
Sometimes it shines.
And so do I.
Am I still an optimist?
Yes.
Am I still a gambler?
Yes.
But this time —
I’m gambling on a space which has space ..Aavya
