
While preparing for an exam, especially the life-altering ones like UPSC, something peculiar happens. You enter a world where everyone is in some form of preparation — a world full of borrowed books, PDF files, online lectures, and aspirations whispered between pauses. It becomes a quiet community of invisible battles. Along that path, I came across someone — a fellow aspirant — who, like me, was learning from the same educator online. We connected, nothing dramatic, just casual messages and polite check-ins over time. But what stayed constant through changing seasons and changing lives was that this person, year after year, was still preparing for the same exam.
There’s something unsettling about seeing time stay still in someone else's story. I moved on — shifted interests, faced rejections, explored alternatives. But whenever we reconnected, I would hear the same line: “Still preparing.” No progress reports, no results, just an unyielding stillness masked as perseverance.
I remember one day, gently — and later, more firmly — suggesting they explore a backup plan. “This can’t be the only road,” I said. “What if it doesn’t lead anywhere?” But my concern was misunderstood as discouragement. “Don’t demotivate me,” they responded. “I need support, not doubt.” It wasn’t that I didn’t admire their dedication. I did. But I couldn’t ignore the fact that something else was quietly dying in the process — time.
In our country, civil services are more than just jobs. They are treated as the ultimate validation of worth, a one-size-fits-all definition of success. And that myth — that legend of the one who studied for ten years and finally cracked it — is both the inspiration and the trap. Because for every one success story, there are thousands buried in silence, lost in rooms filled with mock tests and no closure.
Somewhere along the way, hope becomes habit. Routine replaces clarity. And no one dares to ask: how long is too long?
The problem isn’t the dream. The problem is refusing to re-evaluate it. Society praises those who “never gave up,” but offers no language for those who choose to pivot. There’s no applause for the one who said, “I tried. It’s time to move on.” And so, many stay — not because they still believe, but because leaving feels like losing.
But here’s what rarely gets said out loud: the most honest person in your life is yourself. We all know, deep down, where we stand. We know whether we’re growing or circling the same spot in denial. No motivational quote can override that internal voice. And often, the bravest thing isn’t to keep going — it’s to admit you’ve given enough.
I’ve seen how dreams, once noble, can become identities. People stop being students and start becoming “UPSC aspirants” indefinitely, tying their self-worth to a goalpost that keeps shifting. Years pass. Youth fades. And while the world moves on, they're still explaining to relatives and friends why “next year” might be the one.
The system doesn’t care how many years you’ve given to it. It rewards performance, not effort. So, if someone is in their sixth or seventh year of preparing with no result in hand and no alternative plan — what is that, if not slow self-abandonment?
There’s courage in holding on. But there’s wisdom in letting go.
And sometimes, love for yourself looks like choosing a different path — not because you gave up, but because you grew up. Not because you lacked strength, but because you decided to spend your strength on something that would love you back.
Dreams don’t always come true. But people can. If only they give themselves the chance.
Email:-----------------------tellit2shazia@gmail.com
While preparing for an exam, especially the life-altering ones like UPSC, something peculiar happens. You enter a world where everyone is in some form of preparation — a world full of borrowed books, PDF files, online lectures, and aspirations whispered between pauses. It becomes a quiet community of invisible battles. Along that path, I came across someone — a fellow aspirant — who, like me, was learning from the same educator online. We connected, nothing dramatic, just casual messages and polite check-ins over time. But what stayed constant through changing seasons and changing lives was that this person, year after year, was still preparing for the same exam.
There’s something unsettling about seeing time stay still in someone else's story. I moved on — shifted interests, faced rejections, explored alternatives. But whenever we reconnected, I would hear the same line: “Still preparing.” No progress reports, no results, just an unyielding stillness masked as perseverance.
I remember one day, gently — and later, more firmly — suggesting they explore a backup plan. “This can’t be the only road,” I said. “What if it doesn’t lead anywhere?” But my concern was misunderstood as discouragement. “Don’t demotivate me,” they responded. “I need support, not doubt.” It wasn’t that I didn’t admire their dedication. I did. But I couldn’t ignore the fact that something else was quietly dying in the process — time.
In our country, civil services are more than just jobs. They are treated as the ultimate validation of worth, a one-size-fits-all definition of success. And that myth — that legend of the one who studied for ten years and finally cracked it — is both the inspiration and the trap. Because for every one success story, there are thousands buried in silence, lost in rooms filled with mock tests and no closure.
Somewhere along the way, hope becomes habit. Routine replaces clarity. And no one dares to ask: how long is too long?
The problem isn’t the dream. The problem is refusing to re-evaluate it. Society praises those who “never gave up,” but offers no language for those who choose to pivot. There’s no applause for the one who said, “I tried. It’s time to move on.” And so, many stay — not because they still believe, but because leaving feels like losing.
But here’s what rarely gets said out loud: the most honest person in your life is yourself. We all know, deep down, where we stand. We know whether we’re growing or circling the same spot in denial. No motivational quote can override that internal voice. And often, the bravest thing isn’t to keep going — it’s to admit you’ve given enough.
I’ve seen how dreams, once noble, can become identities. People stop being students and start becoming “UPSC aspirants” indefinitely, tying their self-worth to a goalpost that keeps shifting. Years pass. Youth fades. And while the world moves on, they're still explaining to relatives and friends why “next year” might be the one.
The system doesn’t care how many years you’ve given to it. It rewards performance, not effort. So, if someone is in their sixth or seventh year of preparing with no result in hand and no alternative plan — what is that, if not slow self-abandonment?
There’s courage in holding on. But there’s wisdom in letting go.
And sometimes, love for yourself looks like choosing a different path — not because you gave up, but because you grew up. Not because you lacked strength, but because you decided to spend your strength on something that would love you back.
Dreams don’t always come true. But people can. If only they give themselves the chance.
Email:-----------------------tellit2shazia@gmail.com
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