Chapter 12: The First Mentor
Chapter 12: The First Mentor
*March 15, 2009 – *Old Town Bookstore, Dehradun
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The store smelled of paper, ink, and time.
Old Town Bookstore sat crammed between a fading sweet shop and a scooter repair garage.
It wasn't fancy.
It wasn't popular.
But it was sacred.
At least to Ram, who treated its dusty corners like treasure vaults.
That Sunday, while most kids were glued to cartoons or cricket, Ram was elbow-deep in a shelf labeled "Science & Strange Ideas."
And that's when he heard the voice.
> "Careful with that copy of Feynman. It's a first edition."
Ram turned.
An old man with white, cloudlike hair, round spectacles, and a gentle smile stood by the ladder.
A canvas bag hung on his shoulder, filled with books and scribbled notes.
> "I'm guessing you're not here for Chacha Chaudhary," the man said, eyes twinkling.
Ram smiled. "Not today, sir."
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The Meeting of Minds
The man introduced himself: Dr. Vikram Das—a retired ISRO scientist.
He had worked on early communication satellites in the '80s, then quietly disappeared into academia.
No one spoke of him much anymore.
But Athena recognized him instantly.
> "High-probability asset," she whispered.
"Potential short-term mentor. 87.2% alignment with optimal path."
Ram's eyes lit up.
Here was a man who knew the stars but didn't live among the elites anymore.
A thinker. An outcast. A relic—just like Ram.
They sat on the floor between shelves, surrounded by Newton and Tesla and Sagan.
> "You've got questions," Dr. Das said, folding his hands.
"That's rare these days."
Ram asked carefully—not too advanced, not too suspicious.
"Do you believe machines can think?"
"Could we use satellites to teach kids in villages?"
"What if India invested more in hydrogen instead of just solar?"
Dr. Das chuckled. "You talk like someone who's already lived a hundred lives."
Ram didn't blink. "Maybe I read a lot."
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The Offer
Before leaving, Dr. Das reached into his bag and pulled out a yellowed envelope.
> "There's a competition happening at the university next month—science and policy writing for under-18s.
No one reads the entries seriously, but… I think you should send one in."
Ram nodded.
> "Do I submit it under my name?"
Dr. Das paused. "If you want the system to notice you, yes. But if you want to change the system, sometimes it's better to stay invisible."
Ram smiled.
> "I prefer shadows."
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The Project Begins
Over the next few weeks, Ram and Dr. Das met every Sunday.
They talked:
Aerodynamics
Space junk
Renewable grid failures
Geo-politics in energy
The death of curiosity in Indian schools
Ram absorbed it all—like water through cracked soil.
Dr. Das never once asked where Ram got his ideas from.
Maybe he didn't care.
Or maybe… he knew.
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The Essay That Sparked a Fire
The essay Ram submitted was titled:
> "India 2040: A Nation of Coders, Not Clerks"
It challenged the Babu culture.
Argued for AI-based personalized learning systems.
Proposed nationalized coding academies for ages 10+.
And introduced a radical idea: India building its own search engine and chip fabrication units by 2020.
When the panel read it, they thought it was written by a PhD student.
They almost disqualified it.
But Dr. Das vouched for Ram. Quietly. Relentlessly.
And when the results were announced, no one clapped harder than him.
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Ram's First Public Mention
A small note in The National Youth Journal read:
> "9-year-old Dehradun boy wins National Vision Essay Contest.
Calls for technological self-reliance and innovation culture.
Name: Ram Rawat."
Ram clipped it, folded it, and slid it into his journal.
> "Athena," he whispered, "This was the first chess piece they saw."
> "Yes," she replied. "Now imagine when they see the whole board."
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Journal Entry: March 15, 2009
> "Today, I found a mirror. Not in glass, but in a man.
He speaks in past tense but dreams in future tense.
He may not know it, but he's the first torchbearer of my revolution.
I now have a mentor.
And the system… has a crack."
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End of Chapter 12