Roof of the house, sky of dreams
Ravi sat cross-legged on the cracked cement Roof of his old Delhi house, the same roof that had witnessed his kite-flying as a child, phone calls as a teenager, and now… his silent battles with dreams bigger than the world around him. The sun was about to set, painting the sky orange and pale pink, as if the canvas was too beautiful for the turmoil in his heart. A tattered spiral diary lay open in front of him, its pages filled with scribbled thoughts and goal lists—“IIT topper at 18,” “New York at 22,” “Startup founder before 25.” He had written these lines so many times that the ink had begun to dissolve on the paper, just as his dreams were dissolving into his reality.
Downstairs, his house was resonating with the sounds of life—the whistle of a pressure cooker, the sound of a bicycle bell in the distance, a crying child in a neighbor’s house. But above it all, there was only Ravi on the roof… and his restlessness. “I want to become something,” he whispered to himself as a plane flew overhead, cutting through golden clouds. His eyes followed it like a ritual. Every evening, he would come here, sit in the same corner, and imagine himself inside one of those planes. Running. Making. Achieving.
But deep inside, there was a storm – an invisible storm. His teachers at school would always say, “Ravi is born for greatness,” and relatives would smile, “Yeh toh America jaayega.” Those words spoken as praise became invisible chains. Every time he scored 98 marks instead of 100, he felt betrayed. Every time he hesitated during a math problem, he could almost hear those imaginary chains tightening around his neck. “A genius doesn’t falter,” he thought. “A future IITian doesn’t doubt.” And so, he feigned confidence, buried his fears, and wore ambition like armour.
The terrace became his secret therapist. He would sit there and let the wind pat his face, as if reminding him, “Don’t run away son.” Sometimes he would cry silently, drying his tears in the Delhi air before anyone saw him. His mother would often peek from behind the curtains from the kitchen window, worried, but never intervening. She believed in his dreams, perhaps more than he believed in himself.
And yet, even in that moment of silent chaos, there was hope. Ravi still believed. Still dreamed. Still wrote goals like mantras in that old diary. He had no backup plan. Just faith. That raw, naïve faith of a boy who had not yet tasted failure, who thought that effort always meant results, and that life would turn out exactly as planned.
What he didn’t know was this—life had already made its plans for him. And the course she had charted? Pain.
when dreams are broken
The morning when the results came out was harsh. The newspaper headline read in bold letters—“IIT results declared: 10,000 students fail.” Ravi’s hands trembled as he clicked the link, scrolling through the rank list, his heart beating faster with every second. Then, it was the harsh reality. His name was not on the list. The numbers next to his name in last year’s exam results seemed like a cruel joke. “89th percentile,” it read. “You are not eligible for admission.” Ravi couldn’t breathe. The world around him collapsed into silence and then crashed down on him like a raging wave. Not once, but twice, he had failed. Not any ordinary fail, but IIT.
The dream he had seen since the age of 10, the dream that fueled his every waking hour, the dream that kept him up until 2 a.m. solving practice papers—was shattered. He closed his laptop and buried his face in his hands. It was supposed to be a day of celebration. His mother had already ordered his favourite halwa, thinking he would come home with a big smile. But Ravi could only feel the pain of falling. He kept avoiding her gaze, pretending to be busy with his daily routine. He lied about going to school.
“I will go to the library,”
he said. But deep inside, there was a storm of emotions. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind. “Beta, tu toh sabse alag hai, na?” “You will make us proud, son.” But what was he now? Just another student among thousands, lost in the crowd. The weight of expectations crushed him. For weeks, he couldn’t face anyone. His friends, who used to cheer him up, slowly became strangers. He couldn’t answer their calls, reply to messages and stayed away from all WhatsApp groups. The embarrassment felt heavier than any book in his bag. The taunts from distant relatives were the hardest. They would say things like, “Arre Ravi, yours was good, why did you do that?” or worse, “Pehle se pata tha, aise log IIT nahi karta.” The worst part was the silence of those who once praised him—teachers, neighbours, his own friends. They all vanished, as if his failure was contagious. This was the first time Ravi realised that success has many friends, but failure has none.
Even the Facebook likes on his “IIT-bound” posts had turned into distant memories. He began spending long hours in his room, staring at his phone screen, scrolling through photos of successful students he had once known. Everyone seemed to be mocking him, their smiles filled with the joy of victory. The mirror in his room had become an enemy. He didn’t recognise the boy looking back at him. It was a stranger—someone who had failed, someone who wasn’t good enough. One evening his mother knocked on his door. The light knock felt like an intrusion. Ravi was not ready to face anyone, especially her. He told her he wasn’t hungry, but she stood there for a while, not saying a word. Ravi could feel the pain in her silence, but he didn’t have the strength to face it. What could he say? “I failed, mom. I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill the dream you had for me.”
But then, something inside him changed. For the first time, Ravi realized that pain wasn’t just a feeling to hide — it was something to sit with, something to understand. He didn’t know how yet, but deep inside him there was a whisper. “Pain is not the end. It’s the beginning.” Maybe failure wasn’t his enemy. Maybe it was just a wake-up call he needed. But for now, it felt like the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced. It was only when Ravi sat alone, feeling lost, that he understood. The real journey hadn’t even begun. And maybe, just maybe, this was the way life was going to teach him what he really needed to learn.
knock of pain
The days that followed were the most difficult of Ravi’s life. The world seemed to be moving forward, while he was frozen in time, trapped in his own mind. For the first few days, he wandered aimlessly. He couldn’t go back to school, not only because he was ashamed, but also because he couldn’t face the eyes of his classmates who had once idolized him. It wasn’t just about failing IIT anymore. It was about the feeling of being inferior, of failing in a world that had no room for broken dreams.
But then, something changed inside him. One morning, around 5 a.m., he woke up with an unfamiliar feeling of restlessness. His room was dark, except for the dim light of the moon that filtered through the curtains. For a moment, he was about to turn back to sleep. But instead, he threw off the blanket, stood up, and staggered out of his room. He didn’t know why, but something was pulling him out.
Outside, the streets of Delhi were still quiet, with only the occasional sound of a truck in the distance. Ravi felt a strange peace as he stepped out onto the empty streets. He began to walk, not knowing where he was going, but his mind was slowly clearing. The cool breeze was falling on his face, crisp and refreshing. The world around him was still asleep, and for once it felt like he had all the time in the world to think – to really think.
With every step, his mind began to calm down. He thought about his past, about the years of pressure, about the constant need to succeed. He thought about his mother, her silent tears, her expectations, and how they had unwittingly become his burden. He thought about how every mistake, every failure had been punished. How, all his life, he had been told that failure was not an option.
The road seemed endless, and yet, the further he walked, the more clarity he found. With each breath, Ravi began to feel a tiny relief inside his chest, as if the knot he was carrying was finally loosening. It wasn’t about erasing the pain. It wasn’t about pretending that everything was okay. He had to face it, experience it. He couldn’t run from it anymore.
He didn’t realize it at the time, but that walk had changed something inside him. For the first time, he wasn’t running from his feelings. He wasn’t trying to avoid guilt, shame, or fear. He was moving through them. Slowly, painfully, but surely. And in that painful walk, Ravi learned something that no textbook or online course could teach him: that failure is not an end. It’s a bridge. A bridge that connects an older version of him to the person he was becoming.
Days turned into weeks, and Ravi decided to focus on something else, something that didn’t involve the pressure of entrance exams or a label defining his life. He started running every morning, not to get fit, but to clear his mind, to make peace with himself. Running was different from studying. It wasn’t about results; it was about the journey.
One morning, while jogging through the quiet lanes of his neighbourhood, he saw a group of children playing cricket in a park. They were laughing, shouting, carefree. Ravi paused for a moment and then smiled at himself. For the first time in ages, he felt alive. Not for an IIT seat. Not for his mother’s approval. But for himself. “Pain has no time. It conquers us before we understand it,” he whispered to himself, realising that the pain he had been running from for so long was the very thing that was making him stronger. From that day on, Ravi didn’t try to run from the pain. He faced it. He embraced it. And each morning, he got up and went running, not knowing where life would take him, but knowing that whatever it was, he was ready for it. Pain was no longer his enemy. It had become his teacher.
New path, new me
Ravi spent the next few months in a strange, almost meditative state. His mornings had become a ritual – running in the cold morning, followed by drinking tea quietly in his room, where he would reflect on everything that had happened to him. He was slowly beginning to accept the fact that IIT was not his path. But what was he supposed to do now? Should he just accept failure and live with it? Was that all?
One evening, scrolling through his phone, Ravi saw a post from a friend, an old acquaintance from school who was now designing logos for small businesses. The post was simple – an image of a logo he had just created for a local coffee shop – and yet, there was something in it that caught Ravi’s attention. The way the design was clean, yet emotional. The way it told a story through simple lines and shapes. And it hit him like a thunderbolt: design.
Ravi had always loved art. As a child, he would spend hours sketching, drawing on everything from the pages of school notebooks to the walls of his room (much to his mother’s dismay). But somewhere along the way, he had left all that behind. He had convinced himself that success only came through traditional paths—becoming an engineer, earning a hefty salary, impressing others. But now, with nothing left to lose, Ravi was ready to get back to the work that had truly lit a spark inside him. That night, Ravi did something he had never done before: he enrolled in an online graphic design course. He knew nothing about design software or techniques, but he was determined to learn. For the first time in years, he felt excited. He felt like a student again, but this time, he was studying for himself—not for an exam, but to create something real, something worthwhile. It wasn’t easy. At first, he struggled to understand the design tools. His work was clumsy, and his projects looked amateurish. But Ravi didn’t give up. He had learned something valuable from his pain – perseverance. Every night, he practiced, experimented, and improved. His failures were no longer obstacles. They were learning experiences. Slowly, his designs started to get better. His hands started to move with more confidence, and he could feel the rhythm of creativity within him.
In just a few months, Ravi started taking on small freelance projects. His first job was to create a logo for a local bakery. He was nervous, but the client loved it. Then came another project, and then another. Soon, Ravi had built up a small portfolio of work. His mother, who was skeptical at first, now saw the fire in his eyes. She didn’t understand exactly what he was doing, but she could feel his passion, and that was enough for her.
But it wasn’t just about the work. It was about something deeper. Every day, Ravi woke up with a sense of purpose. For the first time, he was not defined by a degree or rank. He was defined by his creative potential. The more he worked, the more he realised that his true potential was not tied to a single exam or piece of paper – it was always within him. The pain of failure had peeled away the layers of illusion and forced him to face who he really was. One day, looking at his first successful design project, Ravi smiled. He could feel the weight of his old dreams slipping away like water through his fingers. He had found his path. It was not the one he had planned, but it was the one he was meant to walk. And in that walk, there was no shame, no guilt. There was only the joy of doing something he loved, something that had nothing to do with expectations and something that connected to his own heart. Ravi’s story was not over. It had just begun. And this time, he was ready to walk on his own terms.
Standing on the stage, but not bowing to the pain
Ravi’s journey, as difficult and painful as it was, finally brought him to a moment he hadn’t imagined a year ago. After months of hard work, late nights, and self-doubt, his small freelance design business had turned into something more. He had a steady flow of clients, a few loyal clients who would return to him for new projects, and even some recognition in the local design circles. But this wasn’t the moment he was waiting for. No, this moment was bigger than that. This moment was about standing on his own, on his own stage, in front of people who would see him not as the guy who failed IIT, but as the guy who found his success through the same pain he once feared. It all started when an entrepreneur approached him for a big project—designing the entire brand identity for a startup that wanted to make a splash in the city. The client had heard about Ravi’s work through a mutual contact and was impressed by his unique style. Ravi hesitated at first. This wasn’t just a small logo design; it was huge. He felt his old insecurities coming back. What if this wasn’t enough? What if he failed again?
But this time, something had changed. Ravi looked at the contract, looked at the ambitious logo sketch he had created, and realized that the fear of failure was no longer a threat. It was a sign. A sign that he was headed in the right direction. He signed the contract.
The weeks that followed were filled with creative chaos. He worked day and night, carefully designing the logo, choosing the right colors, fonts, and even the overall vibe of the brand. This project felt different from anything he had done before. It wasn’t just about creating a logo – it was about telling a story. The startup’s mission and vision had to be woven into every design element, making it feel more than just an aesthetic – it had to feel real. And Ravi gave it his all.
The day the brand launch event arrived, Ravi stood backstage, his heart beating fast. He had come so far, and now, the result of months of hard work was about to be revealed. The logo was about to go live in front of a crowd of investors, customers, and influencers. There was a huge projector set up, and the moment the event coordinator called him on stage, Ravi felt a surge of adrenaline. His legs felt like lead, and for a moment, he felt like he would collapse under the pressure. But then, he remembered the long 5 a.m. walks, the runs that had cleared his mind, the sleepless nights when he wondered if he had enough. And now, here he was, not running from it, not hiding in shame, but standing in the same spotlight he had only ever dreamed about. As he walked to the stage, he glanced at the crowd. He saw familiar faces—his old school friends, his relatives who had once doubted him, and of course, his mother. She sat in the front row, her hands folded in silent prayer, a mix of pride and worry on her face. But this time, Ravi wasn’t the nervous boy seeking approval. This time, he was the man who had earned his place. As he ascended the stage, the applause was louder than he had expected. People were applauding, and Ravi felt a little relieved, but it wasn’t the applause that shook him. It was the journey that had led him here. The pain, the failures, the mistakes – all of these had shaped him into the person who now stood before them. And he had never been so proud of that person before.
When he began his speech, telling the story behind the logo and the brand’s vision, Ravi didn’t just talk about design. He talked about how pain was his greatest teacher. How failure made him more determined, more resilient, and how each step of the journey built his character. He shared the story of how he moved away from a traditional dream pursuit to fulfilling his own dream. He talked about the hours of loneliness, the fear of never being enough, and how it was through those uncomfortable moments that he found his true calling.
The room fell silent for a moment by the time Ravi finished his speech. And then, the applause erupted again—but this time, it wasn’t just about the logo. It was about his story, his journey, and the strength he had shown in turning his pain into power. Ravi smiled, his heart filled. He had done it. At that moment, standing on that stage, Ravi realized that his true success was not in a logo, or a business, or even recognition. His true success was in overcoming the pain and fear that had once held him back. He had faced his deepest insecurities and had come out the other side stronger, more grounded, and more real. As the event ended and Ravi left the stage, his mother came up to him, her eyes welling up with tears. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her silent embrace was all he needed. Pain had taught him the most valuable lesson: “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going.” Ravi had arrived, not in the way he had ever imagined, but in a way that
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