Dhruv grew up in a place where trying meant failing. And failing meant punishment. The kind of punishment that wasn’t physical, but heavier. It was the look in their eyes. The disappointment. He was never given space to make mistakes. Every wrong turn was a reminder that he wasn’t good enough. That he needed to be perfect.

Parents like his believe in control. They can’t let go. They hold their dreams in tight fists and push them onto you. But they don’t see it. They don’t see that their lives weren’t lived. They see their children as vessels for their forgotten dreams, as the means to acheive their own unfulfilled dreams. And the vessel is too small to hold all of it. Too suffocated to breathe.

Aged 37 now, Dhruv never learned how to try without fear. He never learned to fail and walk away stronger. Instead, he learned to hide from the world, and to stay safe. To never reach too high.

I wonder how many people like Dhruv are out there even today. How many of them are still waiting for the chance to try without that weight.