Category: Entrepreneurship

I Started a Startup at 56. This Is What the Journey Really Taught Me.

Techtamu Talk | 17 January 2026

On 17 January 2026, at around 10 in the morning, I stood before a room full of students, founders, and curious minds.

Before I spoke, I paused for a second.

“How do I explain a journey that never followed a straight line?”

Entrepreneurship, at least in my life, was never a planned destination. It was a series of connected experiences that only made sense much later.

That lecture was not about IoT.
It was not about startups.
It was about life, timing, courage, and knowing when to let go.

You Only Understand the Journey When You Look Back

I opened the session with a quote from Steve Jobs that has stayed with me for years:

You can’t connect the dots looking forward. You can only connect them looking backward.

That sentence explains my life better than any resume ever could.

When you are young, you worry too much about choosing the “right” path. The right course. The right job. The right company.

What nobody tells you is this.
Every experience counts, even the ones that feel like detours.

You just won’t see it yet.

From a Curious Child to a Technology Lifelong Learner

My interest in technology did not start in a lab or a classroom.

It started at home.

My late father was a clerk. But in the evenings, he repaired televisions and radios. I would sit beside him, watching circuits come back to life.

“So this is how things work.”

Then came science fiction.

Cartoons like The Jetsons showed a future that felt impossible at the time. Video calls. Smart watches. Flying machines.

Today, many of those ideas sit quietly in our pockets.

That early exposure planted a question in my mind that never left me.

“What if we could actually build these things?”

Living in Four Different Worlds

I consider myself fortunate. Few people get to experience all four.

Academia.
Corporate.
Government.
Startup.

I began as a lecturer at Universiti Teknologi Malaysia, immersed in theory and research. Later, I joined the corporate world at Celcom, where reality hits hard and fast. Customers matter. Deadlines matter. Revenue matters.

At MIMOS, I worked on national-scale research, including wireless sensor networks, long before the term IoT became popular.

Then came REDtone, where I helped build IoT initiatives inside a corporate structure.

Each world taught me something different.

But they also gave me baggage.

Experience gives confidence.
It also gives fear.

Young founders often believe everything is possible.
Older founders carry doubt.

“What if this fails?”
“What if I lose my savings?”

That voice gets louder with age.

Silicon Valley Changed Everything

At 56, I joined an immersion trip to Silicon Valley.

That trip changed my identity.

I walked into Plug and Play Accelerator and saw cubicles, whiteboards, and founders who looked just like us. That was where companies like Dropbox began.

I remember thinking:

“If this guy can do it, why can’t we?”

That was the moment I stopped seeing myself as a CEO-in-waiting.

I started seeing myself as an entrepreneur.

Not someday.
Not after retirement.
Now.

Starting Late Comes With a Price

I started my startup using personal savings. No incubator. No startup playbook. No fancy terms like ‘MVP’ or ‘pitching decks’.

Just belief and experience.

Our first idea was a smartwatch for the elderly with fall detection and emergency alerts. It looked noble. It sounded meaningful.

It failed.

The market was too small.
Children did not want to pay.
The device did not suit care homes.

That was my first real startup lesson.

Good intentions do not build businesses.
Paying customers do.

Learning the Art of the Pivot

In the startup world, pivoting is survival.

We repurposed the watch for Hajj and Umrah pilgrims. New market. Same core idea.

New problems appeared.

Unrealistic pricing expectations.
Battery life demands that defy physics.
Hardware sourcing from China.
Network roaming issues.
Travel agencies are unwilling to add cost.

Then came COVID-19. We proposed quarantine monitoring. It went nowhere.

Eventually, I made one of the hardest decisions of my life.

Ending a product.

I shared this honestly during the lecture.

Ending a product feels like ending a child you raised with love.
But holding on too long can kill the company.

A CEO must choose growth over attachment.

When More Products Mean Less Identity

We built other solutions too.

A civic complaint app sounded promising. Until each client wanted heavy customization and complaint volumes exploded beyond what they could manage.

A consumer tracking app failed because people care deeply about privacy and free alternatives already exist.

At some point, I realized something painful.

When you build too many products, people no longer know who you are.

Neither do you.

The Shift That Saved the Company

That realization led to our biggest change.

We stopped building products for users.

We started building a platform for builders.

That platform became Favoriot.

An IoT platform that lets others connect devices, visualize data, and deploy solutions quickly. Over time, intelligence was added so data could speak, not just sit on dashboards.

This shift reduced risk.

Instead of betting on one product, we enabled hundreds of use cases.

Why One Revenue Stream Is Never Enough

Another hard truth I shared with the audience.

Pure SaaS subscriptions rarely pay the bills in emerging markets.

We survived by building multiple streams.

Enterprise licensing.
Project-based solutions.
Training and certification with universities.

The platform stayed at the core. Everything else wrapped around it.

That balance kept the company alive.

Partners Build What You Cannot

No startup wins alone.

We built a partner ecosystem covering hardware, software, AI, and system integration. Today, that network spans multiple countries.

Each partner brings strength we do not have.

That is how scale really happens.

Marketing Without Big Budgets

We never had large marketing budgets.

So we wrote.
We shared.
We taught.

Blogs.
Social media.
Free e-books.

Inbound marketing works when your story is honest and your knowledge is real.

People do not buy immediately.
But they remember.

The Lesson I Hope You Carry Forward

I ended the lecture with a simple reminder.

Whatever path you take, it is building something inside you. Even when it feels random.

Do not fall in love with your product. Fall in love with solving problems.
Do not trust praise until someone pays.
Do not depend on one revenue stream.
Do not fear pivoting. Fear standing still.

And most of all, do not believe it is too late.

I started my startup at 56.

If I could begin then, what is stopping you now?

I would love to hear your thoughts.
What dots in your life are starting to connect? Share them in the comments.

Why Clear Answers Often Come Late and That’s Acceptable

Clarity as a Prerequisite

Early in my career, I treated clarity as a requirement.

If the answer was not clear, the decision could wait.
If the direction was not obvious, more thinking was needed.
If the picture felt messy, it meant I was not ready.

At the time, this felt responsible. Careful. Sensible.

Only later did I see how often it quietly delayed progress.

When Reality Refuses to Stand Still

Clear answers have a pattern. They usually arrive after the decision, not before it.

This feels backward to many people. We like to believe clarity leads to action. In practice, action often creates the conditions for clarity. Systems evolve. Context shifts. Human behaviour reveals itself only over time.

Waiting does not always sharpen the picture. Sometimes it blurs it.

In fast-moving or people-driven environments, the very thing you are trying to understand changes while you study it.

The Real Discomfort Behind Unclear Answers

When I kept asking, “Can we be sure?”, I eventually realised what I was really asking.

Can we avoid regret?

Unclear answers are uncomfortable because they remove cover. When data does not settle the question, responsibility lands fully on the decision-maker. There is no spreadsheet to hide behind. No expert consensus to borrow.

That weight changes how decisions feel.

Movement Creates Feedback

Over time, a pattern became obvious.

Decisions made while waiting for clarity tend to stall.
Decisions made while accepting uncertainty tend to move.

Movement creates feedback. Feedback creates learning. Learning shapes judgment. Clarity grows from motion, not from endless analysis.

This does not mean rushing. It means recognising when waiting no longer adds value.

Accepting That Decisions Are Time-Bound

Some answers arrived late and contradicted my early expectations. That did not mean the original decision was careless. It meant the environment had changed.

Decisions are made for a moment in time. Expecting them to remain correct forever is unrealistic. What matters is whether they were reasonable given what was known then.

A decision can be appropriate without being permanent.

Defensible, Adjustable, Honest

Once I stopped demanding immediate clarity, I changed how I evaluated choices.

I began asking three questions:

Is this decision defensible with the information we have?
Can it be adjusted without denial or pride?
Are we honest about what we do not know?

These questions mattered more than confidence or certainty.

The Danger of False Clarity

Not all clarity is real.

False clarity often comes dressed in strong opinions, polished slides, or confident language. It settles debates quickly. It also freezes learning too early.

When reality eventually disagrees, the cost of adjustment becomes higher. The earlier rigidity sets in, the harder it is to change course.

True clarity is quieter. It shows up as fewer surprises. Smoother decisions. Better alignment over time.

Patience Without Passivity

Accepting late clarity does not mean doing nothing.

There is a difference between waiting and waiting well. Passive waiting avoids responsibility. Patient waiting stays attentive. It watches signals, prepares options, and remains ready to move.

This distinction matters more than speed.

What Teams Really Need

Working with others reinforced one simple truth.

People do not need certainty as much as they need trust.

When I stopped promising clarity on timelines shaped by people, policy, or adoption, and focused instead on transparency and adjustment, collaboration improved. Expectations became healthier. Pressure eased.

Clarity as a Byproduct

Looking back, many of the decisions that caused the most anxiety eventually made sense. Not because better answers appeared, but because time revealed context.

Some decisions aged well. Others did not. Both were instructive.

Clarity is rarely the starting point.
It is the result.

This essay follows the first for a reason. If the first was about deciding without complete data, this one is about living with unresolved questions afterwards.

In real work, clarity rarely leads.
It follows.

What I Would Tell My Younger Self About Building Anything Worth Keeping

Take your time.

Learn the terrain before trying to conquer it.
Respect people more than speed.
Accept uncertainty earlier.

And understand this.

The work that lasts often feels slow while you are inside it.

If it feels quiet, steady, and demanding, you are probably building something real.

And that is enough.

Why Experience Rarely Shouts but Often Whispers

Experience does not interrupt you.

It nudges.
It hints.
It quietly warns.

You learn to listen differently. To pause before reacting. To notice unease before excitement.

Wisdom waits for attention. It does not demand it.

What Staying Power Looks Like When No One Is Watching

Staying power is unglamorous.

It looks like repetition.
Routine.
Patience.

It rarely trends online.

Yet this is where meaningful work happens. When motivation fades and only discipline remains. When results are slow and faith carries the effort.

Consistency builds what intensity cannot sustain.

How My Definition of Progress Changed Over the Years

Progress once meant expansion.

More projects.
More exposure.
More growth.

Today, progress looks different.

Fewer distractions.
Better systems.
Stronger fundamentals.

Stability with purpose has become more valuable than constant motion.

Progress feels quieter now. And more real.

Why Some Partnerships Age Well and Others Don’t

Partnerships do not survive on excitement.

They survive on trust, alignment, and shared expectations.

When conditions change, weak foundations surface quickly. Strong ones adapt quietly.

Some partnerships end not because of failure, but because growth pulls people in different directions.

Learning to let go without resentment is part of maturity.

What Years of Meetings Taught Me About Human Behaviour

Meetings are one of the best places to study people.

Who listens and who waits to speak.
Who takes responsibility and who deflects it.
Who seeks clarity and who hides behind complexity.

After years of meetings across universities, corporations, government agencies, and startups, patterns become obvious.

People rarely change styles. They repeat them.

Understanding this helps you choose collaborators wisely and avoid unnecessary friction.

The Cost of Moving Fast Without Understanding Timing

Speed can be expensive.

Launching too early.
Pushing before readiness.
Forcing alignment.

Timing is invisible until it is missed.

The doodle character hesitates here. Not fearful. Just aware.

Momentum without timing creates friction.

Why I Prefer Small Signals Over Big Promises

Big promises are easy to make.

Small signals are harder to fake.

Who shows up repeatedly.
Who follows through quietly.
Who remains steady when things slow down.

The doodle character notices footprints rather than banners.

Signals age well.
Promises don’t always.