I was in the final year of my engineering college and the topper of my class. I always felt that I was not a topper by choice but by compulsion. My father had passed away when I had just joined IIT Kharagpur. My mother was a housewife, and my younger sister was in class 7. The entire burden of running the household and paying my fees fell upon my shoulders. Thankfully, my father had been a government employee, and there was a decent pension to support my mother and sister.
For my own fees and hostel expenses, I took up tutoring in Mathematics and English. Money in those days was never enough, and I was always on the lookout for ways to earn more. With the final year approaching and the pressure of campus placements mounting, I was working harder than ever. After classes, I would cycle all the way to my students’ houses, tutor them for a few hours, and return late at night, exhausted but determined.
One such evening, while waiting for a student outside his house, I saw her. She was standing on the balcony of the adjacent house, gazing at the setting sun. There was something about her eyes—deep, thoughtful, and filled with an unspoken story—that captivated me. I didn’t know who she was, and I had no reason to ask, but from that moment, I found myself unconsciously looking towards that balcony every evening.
A few days later, as I cycled past, she smiled. It was a fleeting, hesitant smile, but it sent a wave of warmth through me. Over the weeks, our silent exchanges grew into something more—stolen glances, soft smiles, and eventually, a casual conversation outside the grocery store near our street. Her name was Ananya, a literature student with a passion for poetry. Unlike me, she had a carefree aura, a world filled with books, dreams, and verses. And yet, despite our different worlds, we connected.
As our friendship grew, she learned about my struggles, and I learned about hers. Though she came from a well-off family, she felt caged by expectations, burdened by the pressure to conform to a predetermined future. We became each other’s solace, meeting at the college library, sharing moments over cups of tea at the campus café, and talking about life, responsibilities, and dreams.
The final months of my college life were a whirlwind. Campus placements began, and I had little time for anything but studies. I wanted to secure a job—one that would ease my family’s burdens and provide them with a better life. Ananya, understanding my situation, gave me space, but she never stopped encouraging me. On the eve of my final interview, she handed me a small note.
“No matter where life takes you, I hope you always remember to find moments for yourself. Don’t let responsibilities take away your right to dream. All the best!”
Her words stayed with me. The next day, I aced the interview and landed a well-paying job in a reputed firm. It was a victory, a moment of relief after years of struggle. But amidst the celebration, I realized something—I didn’t want to let go of the person who had been my quiet strength.
The day before I left for my new job, I met Ananya under the same balcony where I had first seen her. This time, I looked into her eyes not with hesitation but with certainty.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” I admitted, “but I do know that I want you to be a part of it.”
Her smile, that same hesitant yet hopeful one, deepened. “Then let’s figure it out together.”
Years later, as I stood in our home, watching our daughter chase fireflies in the garden, I turned to Ananya. Her eyes, still filled with stories and dreams, met mine, and I knew—I had found my forever in them.
The author is a 30 year old engineer and wants to keep his name anonymous.