Sukhman rode his battered bicycle back home, the chill of the evening air barely registering as his thoughts swirled in turmoil. Everything that had happened since last night replayed in his mind—his run-in with the Vaayu GP scouts, the breakdown, the argument with his father, and the conversation with his boss. It felt like life had suddenly shoved him into a crossroads, demanding he choose a path.
"Should I try again to convince Papa?" he thought, gripping the handlebar tightly.
Harjeet Singh wasn't an unreasonable man. He had his principles, his beliefs, his reasons. Maybe if Sukhman talked to him again, but this time in front of his mother and Manpreet, things would be different. His father might not outright refuse in front of the family. Maybe his mother's quiet strength or Manpreet's gentle reasoning would soften him.
"If I don't try, I'll regret it."
With renewed determination, he pedaled faster toward home.
---
The Dinner Table Debate
Dinner at the Singh household was always a quiet affair. The clatter of plates, the scraping of spoons, the occasional small talk about the day—these were the usual sounds. But tonight, Sukhman had no appetite. The aroma of fresh roti and dal failed to stir his hunger, his mind preoccupied with what he was about to do.
His mother, Baljeet Kaur, noticed his silence but said nothing. She had always been perceptive but also knew when not to push.
Once they were done eating, Sukhman put down his spoon and looked up at his father. His heartbeat quickened.
"This is it."
"Papa, ek baat poochni thi." (Papa, I wanted to ask something.)
Harjeet Singh wiped his hands on a cloth and gave him a skeptical glance.
"Pooch." (Ask.)
Sukhman inhaled sharply. "Aapne socha ki main Vaayu GP join karun ya nahi?" (Have you thought about whether I should join Vaayu GP or not?)
A heavy silence fell over the table. His mother and Manpreet exchanged nervous glances.
Harjeet's expression darkened. "Maine jo kal kaha, woh aaj bhi keh raha hoon. Ye sab bas bade sapne dikhane wale log hain. Jab tak tumhare paas kuch dene ko hai, tab tak tum zaroori ho. Uske baad? Kuch nahi."
(I said it yesterday, and I'll say it again today. These people only show you big dreams. You are important to them as long as you have something to give. After that? Nothing.)
Sukhman clenched his fists. "Par Papa, agar ye ek moka hai toh? Agar sach mein mujhe koi chance mil raha hai, toh mujhe uska fayda uthana chahiye na?"
(But Papa, what if this is a real opportunity? If I'm really getting a chance, shouldn't I take advantage of it?)
Harjeet's face tightened. "Beta, maine duniya dekhi hai. Tumhare jitni umar mein maine bhi bade sapne dekhe the. Par sach yeh hai ki sapne jeene ke liye nahi, samajhne ke liye hote hain."
(Son, I've seen the world. At your age, I had big dreams too. But the truth is, dreams are meant to be understood, not lived.)
Sukhman's voice rose. "Agar aapke sapne poore nahi huye, iska matlab yeh nahi ki mere bhi nahi honge!"
(Just because your dreams weren't fulfilled doesn't mean mine won't be!)
Harjeet slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes rattle. "Bas! Tumhari naukri hai, us par dhyan do. Jo tumhare paas hai, uski kadar karo. Aur yeh racing ka pagaalpan chhodo!"
(Enough! You have a job, focus on that. Appreciate what you already have. And let go of this racing madness!)
Sukhman looked at his mother, hoping she would intervene, but she remained silent, her face downcast. Manpreet stared at him with concern, but even she said nothing.
With a deep sigh, Sukhman stood up. "Agar aap meri baat nahi sunna chahte, toh theek hai."
(If you don't want to listen to me, fine.)
Without another word, he walked to his room and shut the door.
---
A Sleepless Night
Lying on his bed, Sukhman stared at the ceiling. He wasn't angry at his father—no, that wasn't it. He understood where Harjeet was coming from. His father had lived a hard life, built everything from the ground up. He had been let down by dreams before.
"Maybe I approached it wrong. Maybe I should have explained it better."
But even if he had, would it have made a difference? His father had made up his mind.
Turning on his side, he let out a frustrated sigh. Sleep felt impossible tonight.
Then, a knock on his door.
"Who it might be?"
He sat up.
"Bhai?" (Brother?)
Sukhman got up and opened the door. Manpreet stood there, her face serious yet soft.
"Baith sakti hun?" (Can I sit?)
He nodded, and she walked in, sitting at the edge of his bed.
After a moment of silence, she finally spoke. "Bhai, ye sab kya ho raha hai?"
(Bhai, what is all this about?)
Sukhman took a deep breath and explained everything—how he met Nandini Thakre, the offer from Vaayu GP, the chance to be a reserve driver. How he had brought it up to Papa, and how it had all gone wrong.
Manpreet listened carefully. Then, after a moment, she said softly, "Bhai, bas ek baat bolungi. Kuch bhi karo, lekin Papa ke dil ko mat dukhana. Lekin apne sapno ko bhi mat chhodna."
(Bhai, I'll just say one thing. Do whatever you want, but don't break Papa's heart. But also, don't give up on your dreams.)
Sukhman swallowed hard. "Toh kya karun?"
(Then what should I do?)
Manpreet gave him a sad smile. "Bas itna jaanti hoon ki jo sach mein jeetne wale hote hain, woh kabhi haar nahi maante."
(All I know is that those who truly win never give up.)
She squeezed his hand gently, then stood up and left his room.
Sukhman sat there, staring at the floor.
---
The Decision
That night, as the world outside his window remained quiet, Sukhman wrestled with his thoughts.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If he let it slip away, who knew if he'd ever get another chance?
"I can't live my whole life wondering 'what if'."
His father wanted him to stay grounded, to be responsible. But wasn't pursuing a dream also a responsibility—to himself?
As the hours dragged on, Sukhman finally came to a decision.
He would leave. Not in anger, not as an act of rebellion, but because he had to chase what he truly wanted. He would return only when he had made something of himself.
Walking over to his desk, he took out a sheet of paper and a pen.
---
The Letter
_"Papa,
I know you don't agree with my decision, and maybe right now, you don't understand why I have to do this. But this is my dream. This is what I was born to do. I can't live my life doing something that doesn't make me feel alive.
I am not running away from my responsibilities—I am walking towards my purpose. I will come back when I have made something of myself, when I can prove to you that this dream isn't just a fantasy.
Please don't think I am being ungrateful. I love you, and I respect everything you've done for me. But I need to do this.
I hope that one day, when I return, you'll be proud of me.
Your son,
Sukhman."_
Placing the letter on his desk, Sukhman took one last look around his room.
Then, without another second of hesitation, he grabbed his bag and quietly slipped out of the house, stepping into the unknown, determined to carve his own destiny.