I was in the second year of college. The first semester exam results were out. I’d failed in four out of six subjects. It didn’t come as a big surprise because I wasn’t a bright student.
But I was scared. If I didn’t fare well in the next semester, I would have to repeat the year and my girlfriend would move on to the next class. We’d already fought over this.
I boarded the bus to go home. I wondered how my parents would react. The man next to me was fast asleep. He seemedto be in his mid-30s. The bus was nearing the last stop. Suddenly he woke up and looked round, a little confused.
He had missed his stop. He was furious and yelled at the conductor for not waking him up as he had requested him to. He was traveling that route for the first time. The man got off the bus in a huff.
I was infused with a newfound courage. I called up my father to tell him about my results. I promised him that I would study hard and not fail again, ever. I apologised to my girlfriend. They understood.
At times, we get so disheartened by our failures that we don’t realise it’s not the end of the world. A failure can be a new beginning.