Chapter 2: dream
“The spark that changed his path.”
Age 12 – Small village
Rahul was twelve years old and lived in a small, peaceful village surrounded by green fields and red-soil paths. Life was simple there — birds greeted the morning, buffaloes walked lazily across the road, and most families lived close to one another like an extended family.
Every weekday morning began the same way. His mother Sathya would wake him up gently, place hot dosas on a steel plate, and pack his schoolbag. His father, Dayalan, in his neatly pressed khaki shirt, would adjust his watch and take Rahul along on his bicycle to the bus stop. From there, the family boarded a crowded local bus that would carry them toward the town where PBS Matric Hr Sec School.
Rahul wasn’t a brilliant student. He never topped his class or gave impressive answers. His marks hovered somewhere in the middle — not bad, not great. He listened in class, nodded at his teachers, but his mind often wandered.
Sometimes it drifted toward clouds floating past the window… other times, to questions like, “How do airplanes fly?” or “What is inside a computer?”
His teachers liked him. He was polite and obedient, but they often wrote on his report card:
> “Rahul has potential. Needs to concentrate more.”
His classmates liked him too — for his calm nature and simple smile. He wasn’t loud or playful, but he had a charm that made others feel safe around him.
One Saturday afternoon, the school organized a “Motivation Hour” in the assembly hall. Students gathered under ceiling fans that squeaked above their heads. A teacher rolled in a television on a metal trolley and connected it to the DVD player.
> “Today we’ll watch a speech by former President Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam,” the teacher announced.
Rahul didn’t expect much. But as the video began, something shifted.
There stood Dr. Kalam, with his silver hair, warm eyes, and a voice that spoke directly to the hearts of children.
> “You should dream big. Not just for yourself — but for your nation,” he said.
“Dream is not what you see in sleep. Dream is something that doesn’t let you sleep.”
Rahul leaned forward in his chair, fully focused. He had never heard anyone speak like that — about dreams, about failing and trying again, about loving your country. The words stayed with him long after the video ended.
That evening, on the ride back home, he was unusually silent. As the bus passed the fields and hills, he looked outside — not just at the scenery, but as if searching for something deeper.
That night, he sat alone under the open sky and whispered:
> “I want to do something meaningful… like him.”
Rahul didn’t become a topper overnight.
But something had shifted. He started watching more Kalam speeches, reading small science books from the school shelf, and asking his parents curious questions at dinner.
He didn’t have a clear dream yet. But he had found direction.
And the silence of a village night, a future cadet took his first step.
