Working in the field of IT, I always knew the importance of keeping data safe. Yet, sometimes, knowledge isn’t enough. Fear and procrastination can overpower logic—especially when emotions are involved.
Let me share something personal.
I have been married for 22 years, and like most young parents, my husband and I used to click countless photos and record videos of our kids—from their toddler giggles to school performances, from playful moments with grandparents to family celebrations. We documented everything—birthdays, festivals, trips, and even the ordinary everyday joys.
Over time, technology kept changing. Cameras evolved. Phones upgraded. And with each change, our data kept getting transferred—first to floppy disks, then to CDs. Luckily, I managed to migrate everything from phone memory, old desktops’ hard disks, to CDs from time to time. But that’s where it paused.
I ended up with a big stack of CDs, each containing memories I deeply cherished. I had even transferred most of them to an external hard drive, but still, many got left behind in managing other priorities of life. Life got busy. Responsibilities grew. And while the intent to revisit those CDs stayed, so did a silent fear—What if they don’t work anymore? What if the most precious ones are lost forever?
So I avoided it.
Days turned into months, months into years, and years into decades. The fear of losing memories became stronger than the desire to relive them.
But recently, something within me shifted.
I thought, even if some CDs don’t work, even if some memories are gone, I still have my loved ones around. That’s what truly matters. I made peace with the worst-case scenario. And I told myself, Let me at least try. Let me save what’s left, rather than lose even that.
So I took the plunge.
I worked tirelessly for days, with help from my IT Manager (my heartfelt thanks to you, Ashwani Pawar). We first bought an external CD drive because most modern laptops no longer support them. With a lens cleaner in hand, I began the painstaking task of checking each CD—cleaning, inserting, testing, and transferring the data. Some were corrupt. Some took hours. But to my amazement, most of my data was still intact.
The relief I felt is beyond words. I wish there were a word for it :-).
And then came the flood of emotions.
As I played those old videos and flipped through the photos, I saw the most precious moments I had longed to see, my children in school functions, the little fancy dresses they wore, their innocent dances, the creative projects we worked on together, the hugs, uncle and aunt in young days playing with kids, dancing together with cousins, peekaboo-filled moments with grandparents, those babbling, our carefree days as a young couple… even our wedding and engagement videos, things our kids had never seen.
Yes, it might sound strange, but our children had never watched our wedding video. The fear of finding it corrupt kept me from even trying. And now, seeing it all come alive, with our kids laughing, teasing, watching wide-eyed, it added something magical to our lives. We relived our journey. It brought warmth, bonding, and a renewed sense of connection.
So here’s what I learned:
Fear may stop you from opening doors that lead to the most beautiful rooms. Start small. But start now. Though I still keep on reminding myself of this line, believe me, “Most of our fears never actually come true.”
