I Haven’t Come This Far to Come Only This Far

 

There is a principle I have lived by all my life: If you cannot fly, run; if you cannot run, walk; and if you cannot walk, then crawl — but keep moving toward your goal. I’ve never believed that destiny alone defines who we become. While many hold the view that we receive only what fate has decided for us, I have always believed otherwise. In my experience, it is a combination of destiny, unwavering hard work, and a clear, self-determined plan that shapes our path.

Let me now take a moment to share the journey that has brought me to where I am today. I was a reasonably bright student since childhood, thanks in large part to my father. He instilled in us the importance of thinking big and dreaming beyond the limitations of our surroundings. He often emphasized that we must not settle for smaller things. This vision, planted early, became the inner compass that guided my life.

My father had high expectations of me and my younger brother, who studied with me in the same class. He wanted us to excel not only in academics but also in sports, singing, and acting. While I struggled in sports and acting, I did manage to do fairly well in studies and singing. I spent my early schooling years in my village, Kukkameta, a small place of sixty houses, and then in Bhamragad, a remote tehsil in the Gadchiroli district of Maharashtra—an area deeply affected by poverty and Maoist insurgency.

I studied at the Samuh Nivasi School, a residential school in Bhamragad. I consistently stood first in class, though I must humbly admit that this achievement came in the context of studying among peers who came from some of the most marginalized tribal communities in India. My own family was no better off economically, but we had a small advantage—my father, who studied till class 7, knew the value of education. He insisted that my brother and I understand our lessons thoroughly at home before school did.

We also spoke Marathi at home, unlike many of our tribal classmates whose families conversed in the Madiya language. Since government schools in Maharashtra use Marathi as the medium of instruction, we were at a natural advantage in understanding our coursework. This is why topping the class back then, though encouraging, was not something to glorify too much.

The real test began when I moved to Gadchiroli town to continue my studies in class 8. In comparison to Bhamragad, Gadchiroli was a bustling city. I soon realized that I wasn’t strong in Mathematics and Science—subjects that now took center stage. Over time, I recognized that my true interests lay in the Social Sciences and Humanities.

Yet, like many others, I was swept into the common belief that science was superior. I opted for the science stream after my 10th class, despite barely scraping through with a first-class (70%), mostly thanks to my good scores in Social Sciences and languages. There were two reasons behind my decision: one, I didn’t want to be looked down upon for choosing Arts; and two, I had a dream—I wanted to join the National Defence Academy and serve as a commissioned officer in the armed forces.

By class 9, joining the NDA was a conscious goal. But as fate would have it, my poor grasp of Science and Mathematics meant I couldn't pass 12th grade in the Science stream, nor could I qualify for the NDA. It was a disheartening setback. Yet, I did not allow it to break me.

I redirected my path and returned to the Arts stream. With renewed focus, I secured a distinction in class 12 and got admission into the prestigious Fergusson College in Pune. Again, destiny lent a hand—I managed to secure a spot in the government hostel run by the Social Welfare Department of the Government of Maharashtra, which was critical for someone like me with almost no financial resources.

I graduated with a B.A., earning first-class marks. But by then, life had thrown another curveball—I lost my father. As the eldest of six siblings, I had responsibilities to shoulder, including preparing for my sister’s marriage. Even before my father’s death, I had resolved to take on my family’s responsibilities, if only temporarily, before pursuing the UPSC dream.

But what job could a plain graduate get? I had anticipated this, and so, during my college years, I set my eyes on working in international call centers. These offered two key advantages: decent salaries for fresh graduates and the chance to refine my spoken English. I spent years consciously improving my communication skills. In my third year, I appeared for nearly 100 interviews over six months before finally landing a job with an international call center.

That job served its purpose well. I earned enough to support my sister’s wedding and saved up for further studies. My dream of becoming an IAS officer was alive. I now needed a place to study, and also a backup plan if UPSC didn’t work out. That’s how I arrived at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU).

JNU proved to be a blessing. It provided not just a scholarly environment but also an affordable education. Although I did not clear the UPSC exam, I pursued an M.A. in International Relations followed by an M.Phil. in International Organizations from JNU. I passed the National Eligibility Test (NET) in my first attempt, qualifying to teach at the university level.

Eventually, I was appointed as an Assistant Professor at the University of Delhi—first in an ad-hoc capacity and later as a permanent faculty member. From the dense forests of Bhamragad to the lecture halls of Delhi University, I have taken the unconventional path.

I have made my share of mistakes. I’ve taken wrong turns, trusted the wrong people, and sometimes acted out of emotion rather than reason. There were moments when life felt unbearably heavy. I met and still meet individuals who directly or indirectly suggest to me that I should settle for whatever I have. I am not angry with them, but I won’t compromise with my goals, my priorities. Now the principle is simple: you keep me in your priorities, I keep you in mine.

But my life is not all about self-centered people, I have also been luckier to have met angels—people who came into my life like messengers of God. They supported me, expected nothing in return, and stood by me in my darkest hours. In many ways, they renewed my faith in humanity. I am grateful to them, I worship them.  

Through everything, I never settled for less. And now, as I look ahead, I carry a clear resolve: I will not be an emotional fool no matter what. I want to live a life of consequence. I want to be useful to society, especially to the poor and the oppressed. I reject tokenism. I aspire to work for real, substantial change—change that uplifts, transforms, and sustains.

I have little patience for those who mislead others or manipulate their vulnerabilities. My journey has taught me to value honesty, hard work, and purpose. I keep reminding myself:

I haven’t come this far to come only this far.