The Moment It Worked

It was past 11 p.m. in the EDI studio and I had smelled too much solder fumes already . The only sounds were the occasional sizzle of solder and the soft whir of my own prototype. I was surrounded by the evidence of my struggle, tangled jumper wires, bent plastic petals  and a microcontroller that seemed to have a mind of its own.

My project, Surya, was meant to be a simple, poetic connection to my family across continents, a set of mechanical flowers that would bloom as they rose in their respective time zones. But the reality was anything but poetic. The movement was jerky, the code would freeze, a motor would overextend. With every fix, a new problem emerged. The gap between my vision and the object on my desk felt miles wide.

Exhausted, I remember sinking back in my chair, wondering if I’d aimed too high. Maybe a static sculpture was better than a broken, twitching machine. But I wasn't ready to give up on the feeling I was chasing. So I went back to basics, tracing each wire with my finger, checking every connection.

And then I saw it. One loose ground pin, barely askew in the breadboard. A detail so small I'd overlooked it a dozen times.

I pressed it firmly into place, took a breath, and powered the system one more time. This time, there was no jerk, no stutter. The petals began to move, not like a machine, but like something waking up. They unfurled with a slow, deliberate grace until they reached the exact angle I had coded, perfectly synchronized with a soft light I’d programmed to represent dawn in my mother’s city.

It wasn’t a eureka moment shouted across the lab, it was a quiet, private sigh of relief, maybe I’d get some sleep after all. In that moment, the machine felt like it had taken its first real breath. It was no longer just a collection of parts, but a living proxy for a distant sunrise, a tangible piece of connection.

That single pin taught me everything. It’s why I build things. My process isn’t just about writing code or assembling hardware, it's a patient search for that one critical point where logic and structure transform into something that feels alive. It’s about debugging not just for function, but for feeling and creating technology that reminds us we’re connected, even when we're far apart.