Dungargarh- a small town tucked in the heart of Rajasthan, where the sandstorms speak more than the people do. Born and raised in a family that valued honesty above all else, I grew up surrounded by people who never knew how to take advantage of others, not because they couldn’t, but because they had never learned how.
In my neighborhood, no one spoke anything beyond their mother tongue. English was a language we heard only in films, not in real life. I completed my secondary education from a local government school, where broken benches and chalk-stained blackboards were the norm. Yet, despite the limited resources, I found my strength in numbers. My love for calculations began at my father’s small grocery shop. We didn’t have much, but every rupee counted, and I counted every rupee.
English, on the other hand, was never part of my world. It wasn’t taught well, and frankly, it wasn’t needed. So when I topped my school in the 12th board exams, even with the lowest marks in English, it was still the highest score across the entire school. That should’ve been a warning.
Then I came to Delhi – a city that moved fast, spoke fast, and judged fast. I took admission in a fully English-medium university. From the very first lecture, I felt lost. The language I had ignored all my life now stood like a giant wall between me and my dreams. I started translating notes using Google. It was slow, tiring, and sometimes confusing — but it was my only way forward.
One day, a professor told me, “Nikhil, you’re a brilliant thinker. You should try debate.” I didn’t believe I could do it, but I gave it a shot. I mugged up my script, every word, every pause, but when I stood in front of the audience, I froze. My mind went blank. Not a single word came out.
I went home and told my mother. She smiled gently and said something I’ll never forget:
“You win the race the moment you decide to run — even when you know you’re not ready.”
That single sentence changed me.
I started working on my English, not in classrooms, but by calling customer care and pressing the key ‘2’ for English instead of ‘1’ for Hindi. I wasted their time, yes. But they unknowingly became my practice partners. I made mistakes. Many. But I was speaking.
Eventually, I participated in a business pitching competition and won a bronze medal. Not gold, not yet. But that little spark of confidence lit a fire in me.
Today, I am still learning. Still growing. Still translating not just words, but my thoughts, my dreams into a language the world understands.
This blog is not just my story. It’s a letter from a rural mind – raw, real, and reaching for more.