Daksh was orphan, surviving only for his younger brother. No chance he believed in fairytales, especially the kind where a billionaire's daughter could ever understand a man like him. Orphaned young, with only his younger brother to care for, Daksh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Can I leave early today? I have to be somewhere for personal reasons," I ask the managing director of the company.
Normally, for leave requests, I would coordinate with the manager or simply send an email, but since I’m discussing this week’s report with my boss, it feels easier to go through him.
Anant Raichand, the chairman of Raichand.co, continues to surprise me. Despite holding one of the highest positions in the company, he still works directly with the directors. There’s not a single move he makes that doesn’t amaze me. I hold him in high regard. In fact, I try my best to follow his footsteps.
There’s no comparison between him and me. he’s a billionaire, a renowned man of the country, while I’m just someone trying to make my way. Yet, he inspires me more than anyone else. Without even realizing it, he’s shaped my thinking. Do I complain? Not at all. My admiration for him began at a young age, when I was still too innocent to understand the complexities of the world.
I remember the day the government closed off an entire road just so his car could pass without getting stuck in traffic. The entire street buzzed with whispers about him, about his influence. And there I was, an eleven-year-old, completely awestruck.
At that time, I was naive, unaware of how harsh the world could be. But one thing was clear: wealth is what gets you everything. And I still believe that today.
That same day, I was late for school—so late that when I finally arrived, it was already the fourth period. The only route to school was blocked. My exhausted body knows how much I struggled to get there, and when I reached the door of my classroom, my teacher started shouting at me for interrupting her class. She always did that, but this time, I couldn’t shake the sting.
I never understood why she disliked me so much. Maybe it was because my uniform was worn out, or because my tiffin was always empty, she would always ask me why I didn’t have food to bring. But what was I supposed to do when these things were beyond my reach?
She didn’t hesitate for a second before scolding me for my overdue fees—six months overdue. I stood there, crying like a child. And honestly, I was. That was the first time I felt humiliated, her words didn’t just sting, they felt like they were ripping through me. It felt as though someone had taken my soul and set it on fire.
From the very next day, she became distant. For an entire month, she didn’t seem to care about anything. Later, we found out from other teachers that her husband had passed away from a heart attack, and the last time she had come to school was for an emergency. leaving her husband and children at the hospital.
That was the day I understood what it meant to feel humiliated. It was the day I began pulling away from my friends. The same day I stopped interacting with anyone. The reason? Simple: embarrassment.
A few months later, I was suspended just before the final exams. still for the same reason, pending fees. It seemed like the prestigious school couldn’t afford to keep an orphan. I had no choice but to enroll in a government school, and after waiting for three months, I had to repeat the fifth standard.
