(Deep breath) Hi, my name is Rahul. I was born and raised in India, the land where dreams are woven into the fabric of every child's existence before we even know what those dreams are. As a little boy, I didn't have much of a dream. All I ever wanted was to live happily—no grand ambitions, no big plans. Just happiness. But then, as it happens with so many of us, my parents' dreams became mine. They dreamed of me becoming an engineer.
Soon, I found myself swept up in that current. Kota—the city where dreams are made or broken, where kids like me sit for hours under the weight of expectations that are as crushing as the textbooks we lug around. Two years of my life, countless sleepless nights, bloodshot eyes staring at books I could never fully connect with. But somewhere along the way, their dream became mine—not because I chose it, but because I had no choice. Pressure from family, pressure from society, pressure from myself. All of it built up, like a boulder rolling downhill.
But when the results came, that boulder crushed me as i read a simple text Not qualified. Two years, endless hours, and all I had to show for it was disappointment—disappointment in myself, in everything I had sacrificed. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. All I felt was the crushing weight of failure. My dreams weren't shattered because they were never really mine to begin with. It felt like I had failed not just myself but everyone around me.
So I ended up in a private college. Not where I thought I'd be, but there I was. I made friends. For the first time in years, I found something beyond books and exams. I discovered a world—no, not just any world—a world of fiction. Movies, anime, stories from every corner of the earth. These stories became my escape, my refuge. In those four years of college, I started to see glimpses of the person I could be, someone who didn't just follow the script handed to him.
And after four long years, I had something concrete. A job. Seven lakhs per annum—wow. In today's market, it felt like a godsend. For the first time, I looked at my future and saw something hopeful. I imagined that first paycheck. The freedom that would come with it. Maybe I'd finally buy those Nike shoes I'd always wanted, or splurge on eFootball, something just for me. For once, I could live for myself, right?
But here I am… lying in a pool of my own blood.
I was driving, on the correct side of the road, within the speed limit, cautious. I was always cautious. And then, out of nowhere, a car came speeding towards me from the wrong side. I didn't even see it until it was too late. The sharp turn hid it from me, and then—impact. Everything went black.
I never drank. Never had a girlfriend. I did everything right. I lived by the rules, didn't I? I did what I was supposed to do. I followed the path laid out for me. And now, as I lie here, broken, bleeding, tears mixing with the blood, I realize something. All those dreams—my parents', my friends', even the small ones I had for myself—they mean nothing. Not now.
My fingers fumble for my phone. I can barely move, but I know… I don't have much time left. I unlock it, struggling, the screen blurry through my tears. A few swipes, a few taps, and I leave my goodbyes. To my family, my friends, the people I care about. I tell them I love them. I hope they know that.
My breath is shallow now. My chest feels heavy, so heavy. And as I take what I know will be my last breath, I wonder… if I'd lived for myself just a little bit more, would it have made a difference? Maybe not. But at least, for those few moments, I could've felt free.
(Silence)
And then… nothing.
or it would have but i saw light .