
Monsoon was beginning to fade in Patna, but the fire within Aradhana Jha had never burned brighter. With a determined heart and an undisturbed routine, she cracked the UPSC Prelims—the first, and most difficult, step on the path to becoming an IAS officer.
That morning, her name appeared in the list on the college notice board. Friends hugged her. Teachers congratulated her. Even the quiet peon gave her a respectful nod.
But as always, Aradhana didn't celebrate.
She walked away, clutching her bag tight.
Because her goal was never just the Prelims.
It was beyond it.
At the Jha Household
That evening, a sense of calm pride settled over the Jha household. Tarun Jha sat quietly in his chair, drinking chai. Sushila, for the first time in years, smiled without worry as she stitched a blouse.
"Dekha tumne? Aru ne kar diya," Tarun whispered, emotion brimming in his voice.
( Did you see? Aru did it.)
Sushila nodded, hiding a tear. "Lekin ab zyada mushkil raasta aayega. Mains. Interview. Saara Bihar is position ka sapna dekhta hai."
( But now comes the tougher path. The Mains. The interview. All of Bihar dreams of this post.)
Tarun looked up. "Toh usse sapna poora karne do."
( Then let her fulfil that dream.)
Sushila hesitated. "Aur woh Thakur ka ladka? Uska kya?"
( And what about that Thakur boy?)
There was a long pause. Then Tarun replied:
"Agar woh uske raaste ka sahara hai, rukawat nahi... toh usey roknay ka haq kisi ko nahi hai."
(If he's her support and not an obstacle, then no one has the right to stop him.)
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While Aradhana stayed low-key, the rest of the college did not.
News of her UPSC success spread fast. And with it came whispers:
"Nilkanth Thakur ki girlfriend IAS banne wali hai."
"Middle class ki ladki ne Thakur family ko jhuka diya."
"Shaadi karega kya usse Nilkanth?"
("Nilkanth Thakur's girlfriend is going to be an IAS officer."
"A middle-class girl brought the Thakur family to their knees."
"Will he marry her now?")
Nilkanth, who usually joked with his friends, stayed quiet through it all.
Because this wasn't about love anymore.
This was about respect.
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One morning, while Aradhana was walking alone towards the library, she saw something strange: A small crowd had gathered near the canteen. At the centre of it stood Nilkanth—with Ganesh and Kunjh nervously watching from the side.
He was holding a handmade placard.
It read:
"Dear Aradhana, I'll never stand in front of your dream.
But I will always stand beside it.
—Yours, the former awara boy."
Gasps filled the air.
Aradhana stood frozen.
"Yeh sab kya hai?" she asked softly as she reached him.
( What is all this?)
Nilkanth smiled, his voice calm but sincere.
"Main sabko batana chahta hoon ki tu meri choice nahi, meri izzat hai. Aur jisko tu pasand nahi, usse mujhe pasand nahi."
( I want everyone to know—you're not just my choice, you're my pride. And anyone who doesn't like you, I don't like them.)
The crowd fell silent. A few students clapped softly.
Aradhana looked down, blushing.
Then said:
"Agar IAS ban gayi, toh tumhe Mera PA bana dungi."
(If I become an IAS, I'll make you my PA.)
Nilkanth burst out laughing. "Main toh khush ho jaunga. Tumhari coffee laane ka haq sirf mera hoga."
( I'd be happy. Only I should have the right to bring you your coffee.)
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But good moments don't last long when old mindsets rule the world.
That night, Ramesh Thakur called a secret family meeting—only two people: himself and a well-known local political fixer.
"Us ladki ka selection hua hai. Agli baar IAS ban gayi toh hamare raaste mein khadi ho jaayegi."
(That girl has cleared her first round. If she becomes an IAS, she'll stand in our way.)
The fixer nodded. "Aap chaahein toh, uski image kharaab ki jaa sakti hai. Fake reports, cheating allegations... Sab possible hai."
( If you want, we can ruin her image. Fake reports, cheating allegations—everything's possible.)
Ramesh stared out the window.
The Haveli was quiet.
But his heart was not.
He clenched his jaw and gave the order.
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A week later, just before Aradhana's UPSC Mains, she received a sudden visit from the local SP (Superintendent of Police).
"We've received anonymous letters claiming you paid someone to write your exam. But we know your record. We're keeping this quiet for now, but be cautious."
Aradhana's heart stopped.
But what she didn't know was—
The same day, Nilkanth had gone to the SP's office himself, showing evidence of her school and college marksheets, teacher testimonials, and her coaching mentor's records.
He'd spent three days preparing the file.
He had protected her—silently, without asking for credit.
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That night, Sushila Jha knocked on Aradhana's door. Her eyes were moist.
"Main galat thi, Aru. Woh ladka tujhe rokne nahi, tujhko chhodne nahi aaya tha. Woh toh tere sapne ka pehredaar nikla."
( I was wrong, Aru. That boy didn't come to stop you or hold you back. He came to guard your dream.)
Aradhana hugged her mother tightly.
"Woh mujhe pyaar karta hai, Maa. Lekin sabse zyada, woh mujhe meri manzil tak pahunchne deta hai."
( He loves me, Maa. But more than that—he lets me reach my destination.)
And for the first time, Sushila hugged her back without hesitation.
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As Aradhana sat down to write her UPSC Mains, she carried only one thing in her diary.
A small paper from Nilkanth, folded twice.
"When your dream becomes bigger than your fear—no one can stop you. Not even me."
She smiled, took a deep breath, and began to write.
Outside the exam centre, Nilkanth waited with chai and samosas.
Because no matter how high she flew—
He would always be there, waiting on the ground, smiling up at her.

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