I was driving my car on a fine Sunday morning, and suddenly a scooter rammed into my vehicle. My knee-jerk reaction was to blurt out on the scooter driver, but as soon as it happened, I took a backseat and chose not to get into the confrontation. However, while driving back home, I was still not peaceful even though I could change nothing. Upon reaching home, I started reflecting upon the incident and thinking about what I could do differently moving forward to avoid losing my peace in the process. An experience such as this is a somewhat common occurrence you’d witness if you’re driving in heavy traffic.
In a world where technology has given us effortless access to enter people's lives and dreams, we are easily driven more towards successes than failures. We invest our interest in staying up-to-date about successful people's lavish lifestyles, daily routines, and day-to-day activities, which eventually inspire others to walk the same path. The one thing we often overlook is the kind of hard work they had to put in or the challenges experienced before they finally hit the bull's eye. The question here is, how many of us find interest in learning about how life after failure looks like at each step for an ordinary human being? How do successful people transform their failures into stepping stones to get closer to success?
As I gazed at the view outside, I see the morning sunlight piercing through the foggy winter of November, 87' in the city of Bikaner, Rajasthan. I am in 9th grade, sitting in the classroom with my friends when my math teacher walks in. He politely asks me to stand, "Sandeep, do you want to compete with the 10th-grade students in mathematics?" "Yes, sir." I blurted out without thinking twice about his imprecise inquiry. As I follow him down the stairs to the 10th classroom, my heart starts to pound. Even while mathematics is my favorite subject, I was nervous about what I signed myself up for. I am sensing an unknown fear now, but for some reason, I continue to walk fast as I approach the class and sit with 10th-grade students. A few minutes later, the teacher wrote few arithmetic problems on the board that everyone starts to solve, including me. Five minutes later, I stood up, "Sir, I have solved all of them." Everyone in the class immediately looked at me in utter confusion and disbelief. I felt euphoric and immediately became the talk of the school.
It is July 1982, the month of hot summer heat in Bikaner (Rajasthan, India), with the temperature rising above 40 degrees Celsius. I am 8 years old, and I just got promoted to 4th grade. I am sitting next to a friend who takes out a pencil that has a whistle on the top. The teacher is writing notes on the board, and we are busy exchanging pleasantries, and suddenly my friend gives me the pencil. Being one of those kids who play and lose themselves in play, I started to whistle while the class is running. A loud sound pierced through a rather pin-drop silence. The teacher asks the entire class to name the person who just made that sound. Everyone started acting innocent, including me. Nothing happens, but on some level within, I begin to feel guilty about my action.