I am Ravindrababu Ravula. Most people know me as the “GOD of Computer Science.” But before that, I was just a boy from a small town, living in a small room and dreaming of a life no one thought was possible.
I went to a school where the yearly fee was only 5,000 rupees. I studied hard, topped my 10th grade, and got a small gift as a reward. It felt like I had earned my fee back. I continued to do well in intermediate and scored a good rank in EAMCET, the exam for engineering admissions in Andhra Pradesh.
But there was one problem. We didn’t have the money.
My father worked in the cotton mills of Coimbatore. We were not poor, but we were a lower-middle-class family, where every rupee had to be planned. When I told him I wanted to study engineering, he told me to come work with him instead. He took me to the cotton mill and said, “This is your future.”
I looked around and asked him, “How much would it cost to buy this entire mill?”
He paused for a moment and replied, “This is for big people. We are small people. We will never be in that position.”
I didn’t argue. I worked quietly. But inside, I knew this wasn’t the life I wanted.
A few days later, I told my father that I wanted to study. I reminded him of my EAMCET rank and my dream. It was not easy for him, but he believed in me. He arranged the fee, and I got into MGIT Hyderabad for Computer Science.
In my very first year, I became the college topper.
I was broke. I lived in a small room where water would come inside the room whenever it rained. My bed would be soaked. I couldn’t sleep. Cockroaches would bite me at night. And yes, cockroaches really do bite. I had no money to fix anything, so I just kept going.
Today, my daughter’s nursery fee is 3 lakhs per year. My entire B.Tech cost just 23,000 rupees. That’s how far we’ve come.
Back in 11th and 12th, I didn’t even know that IITs existed. But during B.Tech, companies started visiting our campus. Most offered packages around 3 LPA. One day, I heard about my friend’s brother. He had cracked the GATE exam, got into an IIT, and landed a job abroad with a 90 LPA salary. That was the turning point.
At that moment, I wasn’t chasing prestige. I was chasing freedom. I wanted to earn enough so that my father would never have to worry about money again.
I started preparing for GATE in my second year. In my third year, I secured an All India Rank of 86. That was good enough for IIT Bombay. But I wanted more. I tried again in my final year and got AIR 13. I joined IISc.
I am not a genius. I have dyslexia. I used to study from 4 AM to 10 PM every single day. I skipped classes, but because I was the topper, my faculty gave me attendance anyway.
There’s one moment I’ll never forget. It was March 15, 2007. GATE results were out at midnight. I called my father and told him I had secured AIR 86. I explained that I would get into an IIT and probably earn over 30 lakhs a year. He didn’t know what an IIT was. But he stayed silent for a few seconds. And then I heard him crying. Tears of joy.
That was the moment I knew I had made it. Not for myself, but for him.
To anyone reading this: even if you don’t chase your dreams for yourself, chase them for the people who gave up theirs for you. Keep your parents happy. The only two real Gods in this world are your mother and your father. Never bring them pain. Let their eyes only hold tears of pride.
When I stepped into IISc, I was hopeful. But no one tells you – there’s barely any “life” outside of academics there. The campus is filled with brilliant minds from every corner of India. Everyone is so focused, so involved in their work, that conversations barely happen. I was new to hostel life. I didn’t even know where the departments were. It took a week just to figure out the basic things.
But there was no time to settle in. On DAY 1 itself, we got our first assignments. Not the kind you can Google or copy from a friend — they check for plagiarism. You’re on your own. And believe me, they were tough.
Still, I worked hard. I was determined. In my project, I was the only one in my batch to get an S Grade – the highest you can get. They give it to just one or two people per batch. I was the topper, but it didn’t feel like a celebration. At IISc, good grades are rare and earned with sweat.
Honestly, if you’re passionate, ready to dive deep into research, IISc is the place. But if you want an easier life or just a solid job, IITs are better. At IISc, nothing comes easy..
Placements were good. I got two job offers: Amazon (off-campus) and Qualcomm (on-campus). But while studying, I also started part-time teaching in a GATE coaching institute near IISc. They paid me ₹500 per hour, while senior faculty got ₹1,500 per hour. Since I was “cheaper,” they gave me more classes! I didn’t dare ask for more money. At that age and with no experience, just getting the opportunity was everything.
Even during my B.Tech, before exams, friends would come to me. I'd explain topics, and they’d do well. Teaching always came naturally to me.
After IISc, before joining my corporate job, I went home to Guntur. I told my father, during breakfast, “I don’t want to take the job. I want to start a GATE coaching centre here in Guntur.” He literally stopped eating, washed his hands, and walked away. He didn’t say a word. I had no money, but the dream was alive.
I wanted to start a coaching centre. But I had no money.
When I told my dad that I didn’t want to take up my corporate job, he was upset. He wanted me to take the safe route. But I had a different dream.
There was a girl in my life whom I liked a lot—Udaya. She was studying ECE and not CSE, but I taught her GATE CSE anyway. She worked hard, got an AIR 134, and made it to IISc. (She is my wife now).
During this time, she helped me start my coaching centre by giving me “5,000” rupees. So, everything started again from 5,000 rupees.
That’s all I had—5,000 rupees and my dad’s bike (a TVS Victor).
I had no idea what to do with this. I didn’t have enough money to rent a classroom or any space for teaching. Nobody knew who I was. Still, I used to think big. Even with just 5,000 rupees in my hand, I imagined teaching 300+ students in a large classroom.
One day, I spotted a “TO-LET” board in a good locality—great connectivity to the city. The place belonged to a doctor, Bayya Srinivasa Rao, who was an ENT specialist. I met him and introduced myself as someone from IISc. Luckily, he knew about IISc and believed in my talent.
I asked him about the rent. He said 50,000 per month. I explained my situation and said I could pay only 30,000. He agreed—but only if I could give a 3 lakh rupee advance (the equivalent of 10 months’ rent). I told him, “Give me 15 days. Let me use the classroom now, and I’ll arrange the money.” Miraculously, he agreed.
The room was empty. No paint, nothing. I had no money for advertisements—neither TV nor newspapers. I also had to arrange funds for the rent and somehow find students at the same time.
After a lot of thinking, I realized that the 5,000 rupees I had were only enough for petrol for my bike. So, I decided to use my bike to visit different colleges and give seminars about the GATE exam. I wanted to tell students about the importance of GATE, how it could get them into IITs, and teach them a few topics so that they could trust in my teaching and believe they could crack GATE with a good rank.
But there was one problem—nobody was giving me an opportunity to conduct a seminar. I couldn’t reach the students. I was disappointed and knew I had to do something different.
When I told my dad that I didn’t want to take up my corporate job, he was upset. He wanted me to take the safe route. But I had a different dream.
There was a girl in my life whom I liked a lot—Udaya. She was studying ECE and not CSE, but I taught her GATE CSE anyway. She worked hard, got an AIR 134, and made it to IISc. (She is my wife now).
During this time, she helped me start my coaching centre by giving me “5,000” rupees. So, everything started again from 5,000 rupees.
That’s all I had—5,000 rupees and my dad’s bike (a TVS Victor).
I had no idea what to do with this. I didn’t have enough money to rent a classroom or any space for teaching. Nobody knew who I was. Still, I used to think big. Even with just 5,000 rupees in my hand, I imagined teaching 300+ students in a large classroom.
One day, I spotted a “TO-LET” board in a good locality—great connectivity to the city. The place belonged to a doctor, Bayya Srinivasa Rao, who was an ENT specialist. I met him and introduced myself as someone from IISc. Luckily, he knew about IISc and believed in my talent.
I asked him about the rent. He said 50,000 per month. I explained my situation and said I could pay only 30,000. He agreed—but only if I could give a 3 lakh rupee advance (the equivalent of 10 months’ rent). I told him, “Give me 15 days. Let me use the classroom now, and I’ll arrange the money.” Miraculously, he agreed.
The room was empty. No paint, nothing. I had no money for advertisements—neither TV nor newspapers. I also had to arrange funds for the rent and somehow find students at the same time.
After a lot of thinking, I realized that the 5,000 rupees I had were only enough for petrol for my bike. So, I decided to use my bike to visit different colleges and give seminars about the GATE exam. I wanted to tell students about the importance of GATE, how it could get them into IITs, and teach them a few topics so that they could trust in my teaching and believe they could crack GATE with a good rank.
But there was one problem—nobody was giving me an opportunity to conduct a seminar. I couldn’t reach the students. I was disappointed and knew I had to do something different.
With just 5,000 rupees in my pocket and my bike for company, I hit the road.
My goal was simple—get a chance to conduct seminars at top colleges. But every step felt heavy. Most training and placement officers (TPOs) wanted money. All I had was enough for fuel. Even then, some colleges wouldn’t even let me in. I was just a fresh graduate from IISc. Young, unknown, and unproven. Trust? That was a luxury no one wanted to give me.
But I knew one thing: I didn’t want to settle for a small college. In lesser-known colleges, students weren’t as motivated. I wanted a crowd that was hungry for success—the kind you find at big engineering colleges.
So, I went for it. There’s a college in Guntur—now a university—which I won’t name here. I approached their TPO with hope. He didn’t even give me a chance. “No promotional seminars,” he said, flatly.
I was stuck. What do I do now?
Days later, while reading the newspaper, I noticed something—the owner of the college had published a wedding invite for his daughter. That’s when the idea struck me. On the day of the wedding, every faculty member, TPO, and HOD would be busy. The campus would be running on autopilot.
I decided to take my chance. When I reached, only a few junior faculty members were there. I told one I’d been sent by the dean to conduct a seminar. He hesitated—said he’d call to confirm. But, as expected, no one answered. Everyone was at the wedding.
Luck was on my side. The junior faculty member let me in. I had 45 minutes to give it my all. I poured every ounce of energy into that seminar—my teaching, my story, my dreams.
It worked.
After the first seminar, I told them I was supposed to take seminars for all sections. Morning till evening, I kept going—no lunch, no breaks. Eight sections, one after another. I forgot about hunger. I was driven by something deeper.
At the end of the day, I announced that I’d be starting coaching for all GATE CSE subjects at a new center I was renting. There weren’t even chairs in that room. My relative, who ran a wedding business, let me borrow 200 chairs.
On the day of my first class, more than 200 students showed up. Some didn’t even get a chair—they stood and listened. The energy in that packed room was electric.
Meanwhile, I called my dad and asked for help with a white board so the class wouldn’t be delayed. By the time I arrived, he was there, carrying the board on his head.
I’ll never forget that day. The crowd, the chaos, the support from my father—it was the real beginning.
With the whiteboard my father brought me that day, I was finally ready to begin my first class in the rented room.
I started with TOC — Theory of Computation.But there was another big challenge.
The landlord wanted ₹3 lakhs advance to lease the room. I didn’t have it.
On the first day, around 200 students had turned up after my seminar. I told them honestly: I don’t have seats for everyone. If you really want to book your seat, just pay ₹3,000 now. The total course fee is ₹10,000, but ₹3,000 will reserve your place”.
The next day, almost all of them paid the advance. And in just 15 days, I had ₹6 lakhs in my hand.
From that, I gave ₹3 lakhs to my father. The smile on his face that day… I will never forget it. The remaining ₹3 lakhs went straight to the landlord.
From then on, my evenings were set —7 PM to 10 PM on weekdays and full days on weekends. I completed the entire GATE CSE syllabus for them. That batch also produced some amazing ranks.
One moment from that time is still fresh in my mind. After one of my college seminars, a boy named Santosh came up to me.He said, “Anna, I want to go to IISc like you. Can you make it happen?” I promised him, “You will go”. And he did. Today, he’s working at a corporate company. Many others from that batch made it to IITs and NITs for M.Tech.
But there was one problem. Everyone had only paid me the initial ₹3,000. The remaining ₹7,000 was still pending. After 2–3 months, when I asked them for it, things got tricky.
By then, they no longer called me “Sir”. They called me “Anna”. They said, “Anna, we are in bad financial shape. We can’t pay.”
I couldn’t force them. So I taught them for almost free.
Money was running out. My father, in his whole life, had bought just one piece of land from his earnings. And now, because of my situation, he had to sell it — at less than ₹10 lakhs. That same land today is worth more than ₹3 crores.
I was heartbroken. I don’t know if my father still regrets that decision, but at that time, I could feel his disappointment.
My financial condition wasn’t improving. So, after just one year of running my coaching center, I had to shut it down.
I moved to Bangalore to look for a job. And that’s how I joined Cisco.
My goal was simple—get a chance to conduct seminars at top colleges. But every step felt heavy. Most training and placement officers (TPOs) wanted money. All I had was enough for fuel. Even then, some colleges wouldn’t even let me in. I was just a fresh graduate from IISc. Young, unknown, and unproven. Trust? That was a luxury no one wanted to give me.
But I knew one thing: I didn’t want to settle for a small college. In lesser-known colleges, students weren’t as motivated. I wanted a crowd that was hungry for success—the kind you find at big engineering colleges.
So, I went for it. There’s a college in Guntur—now a university—which I won’t name here. I approached their TPO with hope. He didn’t even give me a chance. “No promotional seminars,” he said, flatly.
I was stuck. What do I do now?
Days later, while reading the newspaper, I noticed something—the owner of the college had published a wedding invite for his daughter. That’s when the idea struck me. On the day of the wedding, every faculty member, TPO, and HOD would be busy. The campus would be running on autopilot.
I decided to take my chance. When I reached, only a few junior faculty members were there. I told one I’d been sent by the dean to conduct a seminar. He hesitated—said he’d call to confirm. But, as expected, no one answered. Everyone was at the wedding.
Luck was on my side. The junior faculty member let me in. I had 45 minutes to give it my all. I poured every ounce of energy into that seminar—my teaching, my story, my dreams.
It worked.
After the first seminar, I told them I was supposed to take seminars for all sections. Morning till evening, I kept going—no lunch, no breaks. Eight sections, one after another. I forgot about hunger. I was driven by something deeper.
At the end of the day, I announced that I’d be starting coaching for all GATE CSE subjects at a new center I was renting. There weren’t even chairs in that room. My relative, who ran a wedding business, let me borrow 200 chairs.
On the day of my first class, more than 200 students showed up. Some didn’t even get a chair—they stood and listened. The energy in that packed room was electric.
Meanwhile, I called my dad and asked for help with a white board so the class wouldn’t be delayed. By the time I arrived, he was there, carrying the board on his head.
I’ll never forget that day. The crowd, the chaos, the support from my father—it was the real beginning.
With the whiteboard my father brought me that day, I was finally ready to begin my first class in the rented room.
I started with TOC — Theory of Computation.But there was another big challenge.
The landlord wanted ₹3 lakhs advance to lease the room. I didn’t have it.
On the first day, around 200 students had turned up after my seminar. I told them honestly: I don’t have seats for everyone. If you really want to book your seat, just pay ₹3,000 now. The total course fee is ₹10,000, but ₹3,000 will reserve your place”.
The next day, almost all of them paid the advance. And in just 15 days, I had ₹6 lakhs in my hand.
From that, I gave ₹3 lakhs to my father. The smile on his face that day… I will never forget it. The remaining ₹3 lakhs went straight to the landlord.
From then on, my evenings were set —7 PM to 10 PM on weekdays and full days on weekends. I completed the entire GATE CSE syllabus for them. That batch also produced some amazing ranks.
One moment from that time is still fresh in my mind. After one of my college seminars, a boy named Santosh came up to me.He said, “Anna, I want to go to IISc like you. Can you make it happen?” I promised him, “You will go”. And he did. Today, he’s working at a corporate company. Many others from that batch made it to IITs and NITs for M.Tech.
But there was one problem. Everyone had only paid me the initial ₹3,000. The remaining ₹7,000 was still pending. After 2–3 months, when I asked them for it, things got tricky.
By then, they no longer called me “Sir”. They called me “Anna”. They said, “Anna, we are in bad financial shape. We can’t pay.”
I couldn’t force them. So I taught them for almost free.
Money was running out. My father, in his whole life, had bought just one piece of land from his earnings. And now, because of my situation, he had to sell it — at less than ₹10 lakhs. That same land today is worth more than ₹3 crores.
I was heartbroken. I don’t know if my father still regrets that decision, but at that time, I could feel his disappointment.
My financial condition wasn’t improving. So, after just one year of running my coaching center, I had to shut it down.
I moved to Bangalore to look for a job. And that’s how I joined Cisco.
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