Dreams Come True

“Scribble, scribble. Why can’t I get it?!” I screamed to myself. I was attending a class, working hard to prepare for a civil service exam. This math problem was maddening!

“You fool! You’ll never qualify to become an officer in India,” the people in my class taunted. “You will become a rickshawvalla, like your dad.”

Later that night, I returned to my very poor family’s two-roomed house, where I lived with my three sisters. I began studying when ZZZ . . . "Power out," I told myself. "Now I have to use that stupid candle. H’mmm . . . that isn’t going to stop me from studying." It was already 11:30, and I was still preparing for my test as the rest of my family slept.

I had worked very hard to earn my college degree, an achievement that was unthinkable for a girl whose family was poor. Scoring high on the exam was my only chance to land a high-paying job as an officer.

The next morning, I went downtown to take the test. I breezed through science and history and the rest, but I got stuck on several math problems; I tried my best but could not do them.

A week later I got the results. I ripped open the envelope and saw that I’d earned good scores in all areas, except that my math score was too low to qualify. My heart sank. After ten minutes of sadness, I said to myself, “I am never going to give up.”

After studying very hard for six weeks, I retook the test. My heart told me that this time I would do great, and I listened to it.

Several weeks later I go the results. My hands trembled, and my heart pounded as I tore open the envelope. I had done it; I had accomplished my dream!

I may be a rickshawvalla’s daughter, but I am an officer now.

Hard work is never in vain.