Chapter 1 :The weight of expectations
really understood when things started to feel so heavy.
Maybe it wasn’t one day. Maybe it was slow… like a quiet pressure building inside me, layer by layer, until I could finally feel it in my chest every morning when I woke up.
I’m Mira. I’m fifteen years old.And I think too much.
Every morning starts the same way. My mother’s voice gently waking me up, but her words are never just words.
“Mira, wake up… you have to study. You know, if you work hard now, you can clear UPSC one day. Imagine how proud we will feel.”
UPSC!!
That word follows me everywhere.
In the kitchen.
In my room.
In conversations.
In relatives’ expectations.
Even in my own thoughts.
Sometimes I feel like my name is no longer Mira.
It’s just… a bright student holding alot of expectations.
I sit up on my bed, rubbing my eyes, staring at the wall for a few seconds before reality hits again. Another day. Another set of expectations. Another reminder of what I should become.
But what do I want to become?
That’s the question I’m scared of the most.
I’m not a bad student.I score in the 90s. Teachers like me. Relatives praise me. My parents smile when they see my report card.
And I smile too.
But my smile doesn’t stay for long.
Because every “Well done” is followed by
“You can do even better.”
“You should start preparing seriously.”
“You have to give your 100%.”
And suddenly, my 90% doesn’t feel enough anymore.
Nothing feels enough.
The truth is… I’m not perfect at anything.
I like drawing.
But I’m not the best.
I like dancing.
But I’m not amazing.
I like studying.
But I’m not extraordinary.
I like sports.
But I’m not strong enough.
It feels like I’m standing in the middle of everything… but I don’t belong anywhere.
And that scares me.
Because if I’m not the best at anything…
Then what will I become?
Sometimes, I sit alone and imagine a completely different life.
A life where I’m not constantly thinking about exams, ranks, and expectations.
A life where I can just… choose.
Deep down, I want to do something on my own.Something big.Something different.
I want to build something… maybe a business.
I don’t even know how businesses work. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what to do.
But the idea of creating something of my own… it makes me feel alive.
Free.
For a few seconds… I forget everything else.
But then reality comes back.
Loud.
Clear.
And heavy.
“What business?”
“Do you even know anything?”
“What if you fail?”
“What will people say?”
“What about your parents?”
And just like that… my dreams start shrinking again,
Sometimes, I wonder…
Would life be easier if I were a boy?
Maybe then, no one would question my choices.Maybe then, I could learn driving without hesitation.
Maybe I could help my father in the fields without people staring.
I’ve always wanted to.To sit on a tractor.
To work alongside him.
To understand everything he does.
But I never said it out loud.
Because girls don’t do that.
At least… that’s what I’ve been made to believe.
I love my parents.
Everything I want… somewhere, somehow… leads back to them.
I don’t dream for myself first.
I dream for them.
I want to make them proud.
I want to support them financially.
I want to give them a life they never had.
That’s all I want.
But what if I can’t?
That question never leaves me.
What if I fail?
What if I choose the wrong path?
What if I don’t clear UPSC?
What if I don’t become anything at all?
Sometimes, the fear becomes so loud… that I stop thinking completely.
Because thinking too much makes it worse.
I don’t call it depression.
But it feels like I’m stuck somewhere in between.Not okay.
Not completely broken.
Just… tired.
Tired of expectations.
Tired of confusion.
Tired of not knowing who I am supposed to be.
People often ask me,
“What do you want to become when you grow up?”
It’s such a simple question.
But for me… it feels impossible.
Because I have too many answers.And at the same time…
No answer at all
At night, when everything is quiet, I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling.
And for a moment, I allow myself to think honestly.Not as someone’s daughter.
Not as someone’s expectation.
Not as “UPSC”.
Just… me.
Mira.
A fifteen-year-old girl who is lost between dreams and fear.
Between what she wantsAnd what the world wants from her.
And every night, before I fall asleep, the same thought comes back“Will I ever figure it out?”
