The days after the interview felt unreal, like he was trapped in a cruel dream from which he could not wake. Rajiv wandered the streets of the city with a strange detachment, observing the world that had just humiliated him. Shops gleamed with wealth built on exploitation, politicians waved to crowds as if their popularity alone was justice, and bureaucrats moved with smug arrogance, carrying out orders with impunity.
He had spent years believing in the system, preparing himself to serve it, trusting that knowledge, integrity, and effort would be enough. And now, he realized, he had been naive. Not because the rules were wrong, but because the people enforcing them were rotten. Merit meant nothing when caste, connections, and legacy ruled supreme.
Rajiv returned to his tiny rented room above a tea shop, where the faint aroma of boiling chai mingled with the smell of damp walls. He sat on the floor, textbooks spread around him like the fragments of a shattered dream. The numbers, the dates, the laws—they all felt meaningless now. The system had cheated him, not for a lack of ability, but because of who he was.
That night, he could not sleep. His mind raced through every injustice he had ever witnessed. The orphanage had been harsh, yes, but fair in its own brutal way. Here, in the "real world," the system rewarded cruelty, nepotism, and deception. He remembered children suffering under corrupt school administrators, families crushed by arbitrary government rules, and poor citizens exploited by bureaucrats. And above all, he remembered the interview: the sneers, the whispered jokes, the condescending questions.
"How can one boy change anything?" a voice in his head asked mockingly.
Rajiv clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. "I will change everything," he whispered back. "Not tomorrow, not next year. Everything. Every crooked official, every criminal politician, every greedy businessman hiding behind the law—they will pay."
From that night onward, Rajiv's life became a quiet storm. By day, he attended coaching classes for the IAS with the same intensity as before, memorizing case laws, constitutional articles, and administrative procedures. By night, he studied human behavior, politics, and the economy, mapping the entire system in his mind. Every loophole, every weak point, every opportunity to exploit injustice was cataloged with precision.
His friends and teachers noticed the change. The cheerful boy who once laughed easily now spoke sparingly, his eyes always calculating, observing, analyzing. They had no idea that beneath that calm exterior, a mind was sharpening itself for revenge.
As the months passed, Rajiv cleared the prelims and topped the mains with scores that once again proved his brilliance. But when the results reached the final interview stage, the casteist undertones returned like a shadow he could not escape. Senior officers whispered that "orphan boys" were too raw, too inexperienced to handle responsibility. Questions about his background became pointed, subtle attacks on his identity rather than his knowledge.
Rajiv had learned to mask his fury, to answer questions with precision and respect, but the humiliation cut deep. He realized that the system did not just reject merit—it actively punished it when it challenged the established hierarchy. The same system he had trusted to uphold justice was built to protect the powerful.
It was then that the vow solidified in his heart. He would not join this system as a servant; he would rise outside of it, armed with knowledge and cunning, and he would dismantle it piece by piece. Politicians who manipulated laws for personal gain, bureaucrats who twisted procedures to enrich themselves, and industrialists who corrupted every legal loophole—they would all fall. The orphan boy they had mocked would become a force they could not contain.
Rajiv began working on his next step: law. The law was the one weapon the powerful feared