The Class 10 results are out in India for sometime now. And with them, the pressure, the expectations, the quiet shame that still lingers around not clearing the exams.
For some, the results bring joy, relief, maybe even celebration. For others, it's silence. Closed doors. Eyes that won't meet yours. And in some heartbreaking cases... life just doesn’t go on.
But it should.
This is for everyone who cleared the exams — well done. Celebrate. You’ve earned it. But this is also, and especially, for those who didn’t. For those who are carrying disappointment on their backs and shame that doesn't belong to them. This isn’t the end. It never was. You get to try again. You get to rewrite your story. Because one result doesn’t define who you are. You do.
And sometimes, the bravest thing is simply deciding to keep going.
In a small village tucked between the hills of South India, time moved gently, like the breeze through tamarind trees. The monsoons were generous, the soil rich, and life... predictable. Dreams were often set aside, quietly folded beneath the weight of duty. But for one young woman, predictability felt like a cage.
She had failed her board exams — twice.
In a place where academic success was seen as the only ticket out, failure stuck like dust in the air — thick, inescapable. Whispers followed her through markets, eyes slipped past hers in temples. Even her family, loving yet weary, began speaking in softened tones — the kind used when hope has started to dim. Everyone thought her story had ended.
One morning, something shifted. Maybe it was the golden light spilling over the hills, or the distant hum of temple bells breaking the silence. Whatever it was, it sparked something in her — a defiance. She decided to try again. Not to silence the village. Not even to make her parents proud. Just to see if she still could.
By day, she worked — in the fields and helped her mother in the kitchen, By night, she studied by the flickering light of a dim bulb. No coaching classes, no tutors. Just borrowed books and notes, and old songs from a radio that her family listened to.
The seasons turned. People stopped watching. But she didn’t stop moving.
And then, without much fanfare, she passed.
She clebrated. Not just because college was now possible, but because she had rewritten the ending everyone else had already written for her.
Today, she teaches. Her classroom is full of kids from villages like hers. Some quiet. Some invisible. Many already believing that success is for “other people.” To each of them, she says the same thing:
"You are not your past. You are your next decision."
In life, it’s easy to believe some doors are closed for good. But sometimes, it just takes the courage to knock — again and again, if needed. When the world says “never,” whisper back: Not yet.O
Image: https://pixabay.com/photos/barley-cereal-cultivation-2117454/
