Year: 1981
There were only seven boys in our small village school who finished eighth grade. But only three of us went on to high school. I was one of them. It felt like we were small plants growing out of the soil, reaching up to the sun.

My high school was 5 kilometers away from my village. That means I had to walk 10 kilometers every day—no bus, no bicycle. Just my bare feet, dusty roads, and strong willpower. That daily walk was my first workout—and it was free!

I carried my books rolled like a big pencil, crossed a river to reach school, and when it rained, I used a banana leaf as an umbrella. I kept my books safe in a yellow cloth bag and tucked it under my shirt. If the river flooded, I would swim across it. That was my life as a village student.

At school, I was shy and sat on the last bench. But I listened very carefully to every lesson. I especially loved science class, taught by Mr. Albert. One day, he walked up to me and said, “Come, sit in the front.” That small gesture made me feel so special. From that day, I not only moved to the front of the classroom—but also started believing in myself more.

I was the fifth child in a family of nine. My father worked very hard in a brick kiln, making bricks with his bare hands. He earned very little. So only one child could go to school—our eldest brother, Gabriel. He became a school headmaster.

But I also wanted to study. So I decided to earn my own money to study.

On weekends, holidays, and even during festivals, I worked with my father at the brick kiln. We carried hot, heavy bricks under the hot sun. I worked 14 hours a day. My small body was very tired, but I never gave up.

One day, my quick mental math helped count bricks faster. The contractor (my uncle) gave me an extra 25 paise—a small but sweet reward. I used all the money I earned to buy notebooks, pay school fees, and manage my uniform. At school, no one knew I worked so hard before picking up a pen.

My best friend was Jai Singh. He made my school life happier. We shared ice sticks and sweet drinks, and spent time together. Later, he became a college professor. I met him again after 15 years, and our friendship was still strong.

There was no electricity at home. We used kerosene lamps. My father would say, “Use the morning light to study.” So I woke up early every day to read and learn.

Soon, I reached 10th grade. I was allowed to write the public exams. But when the results came, I couldn’t find my name in the magazine. I thought I had failed. My heart broke. I quietly decided to go back to the brick kiln and stop studying.

A week later, I went to school to collect my transfer certificate. I tried to enter through the back gate, but my Math teacher, Mr. Sunder Singh, saw me.

“Jebamony!” he shouted with joy and hugged me. “You passed! You got 91 marks in Maths!”

I was so surprised. I had not just passed—I had done really well!

He took me to the headmaster and told all the teachers and students about my score. Everyone was shocked. They only knew me as a boy who gave speeches during school strikes—not someone who studied quietly. But I had always listened and learned. And God had seen it all.

“Come, my children, listen to me;
I will teach you the fear of the LORD.”
—Psalm 34:11

This verse became real in my life. My success was not just because of my hard work. It was because of God’s love, His kindness, and the way He was preparing me for something bigger.

Moral of the Story:
Even if life is hard, never give up. Walk with hope. Work with honesty. And remember—God sees your efforts, even when no one else does.