The Road They Said I Couldn't Walk

When I was a child, people laughed at my dreams. I lived in a small village where not many people thought big. Most people there worked in the fields, ran small shops, or did simple jobs. No one had gone to a big city for education or work. But I had a dream. I wanted to be a teacher in a big school. I wanted to stand in front of a class, wear clean clothes, and help children learn.

But they said I couldn’t.

“You? A teacher?” they laughed.
“You’re too poor.”
“You walk with a limp.”
“You can’t even speak English well.”
“Stay where you are. This road is not for you.”

At first, I believed them. I looked at myself in the mirror — thin, poor, walking with a limp from a childhood illness. Maybe they were right. Maybe the road was too hard for someone like me.

But deep inside, something kept burning — a small fire that refused to die. I would close my eyes at night and see myself standing in a classroom, holding a book, writing on the board. That dream felt so real, so strong, I couldn’t let it go.

The First Step

One day, I told my father, “I want to go to the city and study.”

He looked at me, surprised. “We have no money,” he said gently. “But if you believe you can do it, then go. I will give you my prayers.”

I packed a small bag, took some dry bread, and left my home. I didn’t have much, only a few rupees and a big dream. The road to the city was long, dusty, and hard. I walked for miles, limping but not stopping. At night, I slept under trees or in small bus stops. I was tired, hungry, and scared. But I kept walking. I remembered the voices that said, “You can’t.” And I told myself, “Watch me.”

A New Life

When I reached the city, it was like a different world. Big buildings, bright lights, people rushing everywhere. I had never seen so many cars, so many books, so many shoes in one shop!

I found a small room to stay in — really just a corner in someone’s house. I started working at a tea stall in the morning and went to a free school in the evening. I washed cups, cleaned tables, and saved every rupee.

The first months were the hardest. I often went to bed hungry. My clothes were torn. People looked down on me. Some even made fun of my limp. But I didn’t stop. Every evening, I read my books, practiced my English, and prayed.

Small Wins

One day, our English teacher asked me to read in front of the class. My hands were shaking. My voice was low. But I read. Slowly. Clearly. When I finished, she smiled and said, “Well done!”

That night, I cried — not because I was sad, but because I felt hope.

Years passed. I finished school and applied to a teacher training college. I got in! I studied hard, worked harder, and never let go of my dream.

Back to the Village

Ten years after I left my village, I returned.

But this time, I wasn’t walking with dry bread in my pocket. I came in a bus, wearing clean clothes, carrying books, and holding a certificate.

My mother cried when she saw me. My father held my hand and said, “You did it, son.”

The people who once laughed now said, “We always knew you could do it.”
But I remembered their words. I remembered the days I slept hungry, the nights I cried, the long walks, and the pain. And I smiled — not out of anger, but from victory.

The Classroom

Now, I teach in a big school. I stand in front of my students and tell them, “Believe in yourself, even when no one else does. The road may be hard, but if your dream is strong, your steps will find the way.”

One of my students once asked, “Sir, what if people say we can’t do something?”

I looked at him, smiled, and said, “Then tell them: Watch me.”


Moral of the Story:

No one can stop you if you don’t stop yourself. The road may be long. People may doubt you. But with faith, hard work, and courage, you can walk any road — even the one they said you couldn’t.