Spring of Dreams - Shattered Dreams

The college campus was a sea of people, buzzing with the indistinct chatter of nervous students. This year, the number of aspirants was higher than the last, but the crowd wasn’t surprising. It was placement season, after all. Students from across Odisha had gathered here, all carrying a single hope: to secure a job and return home with their heads held high, finally able to silence their aunties and the ever-present comparison to Mishra Uncle’s successful son.

This was a tier-two college in one of India’s poorest states. For a 20-year-old here, aspirations were modest. You wouldn’t find a Ranchoddas Shamaldas Chanchad who came to learn for the joy of it. These were not the dreamers of cinema; they were the real majority of India.

Unlike the movie narratives where a prodigy from a remote village cracks IIT after two attempts and goes on to change the world, these students had a different story. They hadn’t made it to medical college or IIT or even REC (now NIT). Many hadn’t even heard of those paths. They only knew of the Odisha JEE. They secured just enough rank to land a seat in a private college.

They had already faced years of being overshadowed by the Mishra Uncle’s son. Now they just wanted a job, any job.

They didn’t aim to change the world; they kept it running.

These were the engineers who turned PowerPoint dreams into code, the ones who built the backbones of companies. The irony? They were never celebrated. But they didn’t care. All they wanted was to earn a living, pay honest taxes, maybe buy a scooter, and spend time with their families. Dignity over disruption.

The job market in 2003 wasn’t kind. The dot-com bubble had burst, Y2K was no longer a threat, and optimism was fading. But what choice did they have? You can’t pick the year you’re born. That was the reality.

These were also the days of off-campus placements. A multinational would visit one college, and students from nearby colleges would crowd in for a shot. The host college students usually got the bulk of the spots, while the rest hoped for miracles. But everyone showed up, because

hope is hard to kill when it’s all you’ve got.

Amid this large crowd of parents, temporary tea vendors, and students, Ayushman and Tanuja sat nervously on a bench in the college garden. They had cleared the written exam and group discussion, and their final interviews were done. Now, they were waiting for the results.

Tanuja came from a modest household. Her father, Rajsekhar Sethi, worked as a clerk at the secretariat and saw her as his pride. She was obedient, studious, and the daughter he hoped would one day become a doctor. When she couldn’t clear the medical entrance exam after two attempts, she noticed the quiet disappointment in his eyes, even though he never said a word. Her mother tried to console him, and Tanuja quietly absorbed the weight of their unspoken sadness. When the decision came to switch to engineering, she agreed without resistance. Deep down, she was relieved. Medicine was never her dream, just a borrowed one.

Ayushman, the youngest in his family, had no such pressure. His elder brother, Abhijit, had already cracked the CA exam and landed a well-paying job, making their father, Basudev Mishra, a proud man. Ayushman was different. He had freedom, and he used it. He wasn’t an exceptional student, but he had a kind heart and a sharp mind. He liked to think deeply, question things, and understand people. While his friends prepared for IIT, he chose not to. Maybe it was self-doubt, or maybe he just didn’t want to grind. Still, he believed he would land a job in an IT company, go abroad someday, and live well. That was enough for him.

They entered engineering not out of love for it, but because it was the next best option. Tanuja, being who she was, put her heart into it. She topped her class and stayed focused. For her, having a goal made everything easier. Ayushman stayed just above the bar. He gave effort only where it mattered to him, and spent the rest of his time enjoying college life. If he liked a subject, he dove in. If not, he skimmed enough to pass.

Tanuja had only one close friend in college, Kavita, who had known Ayushman since school. Their families lived in the same colony, so it was through Kavita that Tanuja first met Ayushman. The two connected easily, and over time, their friendship grew into something more. Classmates often teased them, assuming they were a couple. By the third year, they truly were.

But they weren’t the typical college couple. There were no long canteen hours or campus strolls. Tanuja stayed focused on her studies, driven by the silent pressure of restoring her father’s pride. Ayushman, in contrast, attended only the essential classes, spending most of his time doing what he enjoyed. He may have appeared carefree, but when it mattered, like during placement season, he put in the effort.

They were different in every way: Tanuja, the disciplined achiever; Ayushman, the laid-back realist. And maybe that’s why they worked. Their bond grew not despite their differences, but because of them.

As they sat on the bench, the anxiety between them was palpable. Ayushman broke the silence, asking, “Hungry?” Tanuja shook her head, her mind too preoccupied to think about food. “I’m hungry. Let me get a veg puff and two teas,” Ayushman said, more out of habit than hunger. Tanuja managed a small smile and nodded for the tea. She wasn’t particularly fond of tea, but she enjoyed the occasional sip with Ayushman. Yet, at that moment, all she wanted was to be alone. She was overwhelmed by nerves, haunted by the thought that if she didn’t get this job, she would once again disappoint her father. The fear of transforming from a hero in her younger sister’s eyes to a loser loomed large in her mind. She imagined the embarrassment she would feel in front of her teachers and classmates. Shaking her head, she gently slapped her cheeks to snap out of this spiral of negativity. Sitting alone, she realized, would only invite more pessimistic thoughts. She stood up and started looking for Ayushman.

From a distance, she couldn’t see him near the chai stall, so she started walking towards it, hoping to find him. Ayushman was standing behind the chai stall, hidden from view, nervously smoking a cigarette. His thoughts were swirling in his mind, dark and uncertain. What if he didn’t get the job and Tanuja did? It seemed like a likely scenario. She would leave Odisha, and they both knew that long-distance relationships rarely worked. At least, that’s what his brother Abhijit had told him when he broke up with his own girlfriend. The job market wasn’t exactly thriving, and if Ayushman didn’t secure this job, it might take him a long time to find another one. By then, Tanuja would be far ahead in her career, while he’d still be struggling to find his footing. A small, selfish part of him thought, Maybe it would be better if neither of us got the job. We could move to Bengaluru together and search for work. But almost immediately, guilt washed over him. What kind of evil thoughts am I having? Tanuja, the hardworking girl he loved, was carrying the burden of her father’s compromised dreams. How could he even entertain such selfish thoughts? Ayushman had always struggled with self-confidence. He projected an image of being carefree, but deep down, he was plagued by fears of inadequacy.

He dreaded being seen as a failure, even as he pretended not to care what others thought.

His life had been a series of compromises: avoiding the rigorous demands of IIT preparation, abandoning his dreams of theater, and now, grappling with the fear of losing Tanuja to a future that might not include him.

Tanuja, however, was focused in a way that Ayushman could never be. While Ayushman’s mind darted from one worry to another, Tanuja’s thoughts were singular, unyielding. She didn’t dwell on what would happen to them as a couple if their paths diverged. Her mind was fixed on one goal: securing this job, restoring her father’s pride, and proving herself. Unlike Ayushman, who was torn between personal desires and insecurities, Tanuja had the clarity of purpose. She was like Arjuna, with her eyes fixed firmly on the target, everything else fading into the background.

The contrast between them couldn’t have been more stark. Ayushman’s anxiety was rooted in his fear of losing Tanuja, of being left behind, while Tanuja’s anxiety was tied to the weight of expectations, of fulfilling the dreams she had inherited.

Finally, the moment arrived. The results were posted on the notice board, and in an instant, the crowd surged forward, each student desperate to see their fate. Ayushman sprinted toward the notice board, turning back to tell Kavita and Tanuja to wait a little distance away, hoping to shield them from the crush of the crowd. The atmosphere was electric, full of anticipation, but quickly began to change as students emerged from the throng. Some were jumping and smiling, victorious. Others came out with tears in their eyes, or worse, forcing smiles as they tried to cheer on friends who had been selected. The once hopeful crowd had become a sea of shattered dreams, only 5% of the students had made it.

Ayushman was still lost in the crowd, nowhere to be seen. Kavita, biting her nails, anxiously asked Tanuja, “Where is Ayushman?” But Tanuja was in another world entirely, her mind racing with thoughts faster than she could comprehend. She didn’t respond to Kavita, too consumed by the possibilities of what those results might mean for her, her family, and her future.

Finally, Ayushman emerged from the crowd. Kavita jumped toward him, her eyes wide with hope. “What happened?” she asked. Ayushman simply shook his head, a slight, defeated gesture. There were no tears in her eyes, just a deep, crushing frustration. She kicked the ground hard, as if trying to expel the disappointment from her body.

Tanuja, who had been staring at Ayushman from a distance, walked up to him. Her eyes scaning his face for some kind of reassurance. Ayushman reached out to take her hand, but she pushed him away, her voice trembling as she asked, “What happened?” Ayushman, avoiding her gaze, shook his head. Tanuja, still not understanding, pressed on, “What happened?” This time, Ayushman looked into her eyes and said “You didn’t make it.”

The words hit Tanuja like a punch to the gut. She didn’t blink, didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. She was frozen, staring at Ayushman but seeing only the faces of all the people she had just disappointed: her father, her sister, her teachers. Inside her mind, a tornado of thoughts swirled, but outwardly she remained still, like a statue carved in sorrow. Ayushman tried to hold her hands again, but she was unresponsive as if she had turned to stone. Then, without a word, she turned and started walking towards the motorcycle stand, where her scooter was parked. Ayushman called after her, trying to calm her down, but she pushed him away, rejecting his attempts at comfort. She walked away, her steps heavy with the weight of her shattered hopes. Ayushman started to follow, but Kavita grabbed his arm, “Leave her alone,” she said softly, understanding Tanuja’s need for space. Then, trying to lighten the mood, Kavita asked, “Do you want to grab a tea?”

They walked over to the chai tapri, the atmosphere heavy between them. Ayushman, still concerned, asked Kavita, “Can you go check on Tanuja when you get home? See how she’s doing?” Kavita gave him a hard look, her frustration bubbling over. “Buddy, I’m also rejected,” she said, her voice laced with anger and hurt. “I know she’s your girlfriend, but I’m your friend too. I’ve known you since school. How can you be so selfish?” Ayushman, realizing his insensitivity, quickly replied, “I didn’t mean it that way. I just... I couldn’t read her pain. That’s why I’m worried.” Kavita’s expression softened a bit, but she still shook her head, exasperated. “People lose their sense when they’re in love,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t expect anything from you. I’ll just head home.” She started to walk away, and Ayushman, feeling guilty, offered, “Let me drop you home”. Kavita replied with a sarcastic laugh, “Oh, thank you for remembering my existence! But I can take an auto. Two lovebirds having their issues, and I’m the one who’s left without a ride. No job, no ride; what a great day.”

Kavita’s mother looked at Ayushman and asked, “And what about you, beta?”. Ayushman hesitated for a moment before answering, “I got selected.” Kavita spun around, disbelief in her eyes. “You moron, you didn’t tell us!” she exclaimed. Ayushman shrugged, “No one asked.”

Kavita’s face flushed with embarrassment, her earlier frustrations melting away. She was at a loss for words, her emotions tangled between happiness for her friend and shame for her own outburst. Kavita’s mother congratulated him warmly and invited him inside. “Oh thats great. Come in, let's have some sweets.” He declined Kavita’s mother’s offer with a polite smile, “Thank you, Aunty, but I should head home. It’s been a long day.” His thoughts were elsewhere: on Tanuja, on the weight of their shared failure, and the uncertain future that now lay before them. Kavita watched him, her earlier frustration now replaced with concern. She could see the turmoil in his eyes, the battle between his own success and the guilt he felt for Tanuja. “Go home, Ayushman,” she said softly. “Get some rest. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

Ayushman reached home and told his parents about the outcome, his voice was flat, devoid of any excitement. His father, Basudev, looked at him with pride. “Congratulations,” he said, patting him on the back. “You’ve made us proud.” His mother quickly started planning a small celebration, talking about which relatives to inform first.

As he was heading back to his room, he knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges, challenges he wasn’t sure he was ready to face. But the weight he carried wasn’t just about the challenges ahead. It was about the nagging guilt that gnawed at his conscience. “Maybe it would be better if neither of us got the job”. The selfish thought had crossed his mind, and now, as he replayed the day in his head, he couldn’t help but feel that his dark wish had somehow been granted in part. Tanuja’s rejection felt like a twisted response from fate, as if his fleeting, selfish wish had received some kind of cruel blessing. He shuddered at the thought, the guilt settling like a stone in his chest.

At the same time, Tanuja stood in front of her parents, her heart was heavy with the news she had to deliver. She could barely meet her father’s eyes as she spoke. “I didn’t get the job, Bapa,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Rajsekhar’s face fell, the disappointment clear, though he tried to hide it. “It’s okay, Tanu. These things happen. We’ll figure something out,” he said, though the words lacked conviction. Her mother, standing silently nearby, moved to comfort her, but Tanuja stepped back, shaking her head. “I just need some time alone,” she said, turning away before the tears could spill over. She retreated to her room, the rejection hanging over her like a dark cloud.

The night was long, and sleep came only in restless fragments. Ayushman, Tanuja, and Kavita lay awake, each lost in their thoughts, the weight of the day pressing heavily on their hearts. In the silence of the night, they all knew that things had changed. The road ahead was uncertain, and the bonds between them would be tested in ways they had never imagined.