Shams was formidable.
He had just ranked first in both the Vooate and Medical entrance exams. He even received an offer to study abroad on a full scholarship—something thousands of students could only dream of.
But that wasn't all.
Shams was also a cricket prodigy. He had the chance to become a national cricket team player—a dream chased by millions in Bangladesh.
People couldn't believe it. At just seven, he played better than boys twice his age. By fifteen, selectors were already whispering his name.
Whenever people heard about his achievements, they'd always say the same thing:
"Shams? That boy can't be real." "Is he an alien or something from another dimension?"
His skills seemed unworldly.
And yet— Despite having the world at his feet...
Shams chose a different dream.
He never wanted to be a doctor. Nor an engineer. Nor a professional athlete.
Because even with all the success laid out before him— Shams carried a quiet fire inside him.
He couldn't remember much from childhood... But he remembered his Baba's stories— Stories of how their village was once drowning in darkness, Until one good official came and led them into light.
That story shaped him.
It made him believe— A good politician, a true leader, can change a nation's destiny.
And from that belief, A purpose was born.
Shams didn't want to be famous. He wanted to be useful. He wanted to be the reason his country stood tall.
Shams made a decision that shocked everyone. Despite ranking first in both the Vooate and Medical entrance exams—despite even having the chance to join the national cricket team— He chose none of them.
Instead, Shams decided to join Dhaka University. Not for prestige. Not for fame. But because he believed this path would bring him closer to his dream.
The dream of changing the nation.
He moved to Dhaka alone, as a bachelor, while his father returned to their village and opened a small grocery shop to sustain their simple life. Their village, located on the outskirts of Dhaka, still held memories of struggle and hope.
People were shocked. "How can someone so talented throw away such golden chances?" they whispered.
Yes, Dhaka University is one of Bangladesh's best institutions— But to turn down becoming a doctor, an engineer, or even a national cricket star?
It made no sense to anyone.
But Shams was firm. He knew what he wanted. He didn't want to be just another success story—he wanted to be a reason others could succeed.
His father, though heartbroken at first, gave in. But under one condition:
"Prove it to me. Show me that the life you've chosen will take you further than medicine or engineering ever could."
And so began Shams' journey in Dhaka— Not to chase a career— But to chase purpose.
After joining Dhaka University, Shams didn't just meet expectations—he shattered them.
He ranked first in every exam, his results leaving even the most brilliant students stunned. Teachers started mentioning his name like a standard. He wasn't just a student anymore—he was becoming a symbol.
During cricket tournaments, his presence on the field was like magic. Even as a first-year student, his team defeated seasoned third-years, claiming the university trophy. Crowds chanted his name. Teachers smiled with pride. Fellow students whispered, "Shams… is this guy even human?"
Now, Shams is in his third year. The time has finally come.
He is now eligible to contest for the Student Council President.
The role he always eyed not for power—but for purpose.
He had read stories… heard legends… That many of the greatest leaders of the country started their journey from this very stage. The student council wasn't just a title. To Shams, it was a rehearsal for something far greater.
He was confident. Everyone around him was confident. They believed: "If anyone deserves to be president, it's Shams."
But then…
Why is Shams so quiet today? Why is his gaze so heavy, his smile missing, his presence hollow?
The boy who once outshined everyone in class… The boy who turned the cricket field into his playground… Today, that same boy was found lying on a bench… In a quiet park, away from the noise, away from everyone.
His arms tucked under his head, Eyes staring blankly at the grey sky, Shams was sleeping… or maybe just hiding… Hiding from the world, hiding from his own thoughts.
The wind was gentle, The park nearly empty. But inside him, a storm raged.
Depression isn't always loud. Sometimes, it's just a brilliant soul too tired to keep shining.
And in that moment, under the shade of an old tree… Shams didn't look like the boy who was going to change the country.
He looked like a boy… Just trying to survive.
To find the answer, we have to go back four days…
It was the day the Student Council President results were going to be announced.
The principal stood on stage, giving a long, formal speech about leadership, vision, and the responsibility of youth. Below the stage, Shams sat in his chair, composed yet visibly restless.
Everywhere around him, students were already whispering congratulations, patting his back, calling him "President Shams" like it was already a fact. And honestly, why wouldn't they? Shams had everything — brains, charisma, discipline, presence.
But even the strongest hearts can tremble in moments like these. And Shams was no exception. He was confident, yes — but he was also human.
His fingers lightly tapped the chair handle, his eyes fixed on the stage. The sun was sharp now — almost directly above, it was 11:40 AM. The ceiling fans spun lazily above the crowd, barely pushing any air. Sweat formed near his temples, partly from the heat… partly from the wait.
Then, after what felt like eternity…
The moment came.
"And now… the announcement you've all been waiting for. The next Student Council President of Dhaka University is…"
The entire hall went silent.
Shams slowly began to rise from his seat, heart pounding in rhythm with the silence.
The principal's voice echoed through the mic.
"Tahsin."
A pause.
A longer silence.
Then— Gasps. Whispers. Eyes wide. No one saw that coming.
The smile froze on Shams' face. His legs, half-raised, locked in place for a second before he slowly sat back down. He didn't say anything.
No one did.
The air felt heavier than before.
And in that moment, a strange realization sank in…
Sometimes even the brightest lights get shut out — not because they don't shine, but because someone turned off the switch.
After hearing Tahsin's name, everyone was stunned.
The principal quietly stepped away from the mic and returned to his seat on stage, beside the other teachers.
Then—another figure appeared.
A fat guy with an awkward gait, an ugly expression twisted across his face. Thick glasses hung crookedly over his nose.
Whispers spread through the hall like wildfire.
"Wait… isn't that the guy from third year?" "The one who keeps failing every exam?" "Yeah… I heard his uncle's a big shot in the university."
The murmurs got louder.
"That's how he made it to third year, right?" "And now—look at this joke. He's becoming president."
Tahsin, now standing on stage, could hear every word.
He slowly turned his head and glared at the crowd with a cold, threatening stare. His expression said it all—Say one more word.
The whispers stopped instantly.
"Hey… quiet." "We shouldn't talk. It might get us in trouble." "If his uncle really has that kind of power…"
Silence.
Then, Tahsin began his speech.
His voice was harsh. Nasal. Unpleasant to the ears.
Shams didn't wait to hear more.
Quietly, without a word, he stood up and left the hall.
Back to the present.
"Ah… the adhan already?"
Shams rose from the bench slowly, brushing off his pants.
"I have to hurry… can't miss the jamat."
He walked toward the mosque with tired eyes and a storm inside his chest.
That damn Tahsin… I still can't forget that day. My dream—it shattered right there in front of everyone.
He clenched his fists for a second but quickly let go.
"Come on, Shams… don't lose yourself. You're still formidable. You're still you."
He reached the mosque just in time.
"Alhamdulillah… I made it."
Standing in line with the others, he raised his hands and began his salah.
But the truth?
Nothing was okay.
Yes, he was brilliant. Yes, he was still strong. But...
He could no longer become a doctor. He had passed on engineering. And the doors to the cricket team? Closed.
It was already too late.
Even a formidable soul like Shams couldn't rewind time.
And now—he wasn't just fighting the system.
He was fighting something far harder...
Himself.
Half an hour later...
After salah, Shams walked back to his home slowly, his steps heavy, mind weighed down with a thousand thoughts.
It was his off day today.
Normally, the room he shared buzzed with the laughter and chaos of the other boys — friends who had become like brothers over time. But today, it was quiet. They had all gone to visit their families, to enjoy a weekend of home-cooked meals and warm embraces.
Shams, too, usually visited his father every weekend. Their little village wasn't far. And his Baba always waited outside the small grocery shop, looking down the road with hopeful eyes.
But this week… Shams couldn't go.
How could he? What would he even say?
How would he meet his father's eyes — the man who gave up everything, who believed in a dream even bigger than his own?
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The silence of the room felt louder than ever.
Dropping his bag, he didn't even bother changing. He just lay down on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
It felt different today.
Usually, after coming home, he'd dive into his books — solving questions, writing notes, preparing for the next exam. That was the routine. That was the rhythm of Shams.
But today? He couldn't even lift a pen.
"Ahh... that damn Tahsin..."
He whispered under his breath, eyes narrowing with frustration.
"I just want to curse him..."
But almost instantly, he caught himself.
He closed his eyes, trying to breathe. Trying to reset.
"Hey, Shams... Calm down. Even if you didn't become a doctor... Even if you missed the cricket team... You can still get a good job in a corporate office. Your results are still golden…"
He tried convincing himself.
But the fire inside refused to settle.
He sat up, rubbed his face, and sighed — a deep, hollow sigh that carried the weight of dreams delayed and pride wounded.
Then — just as he was about to lie back down again —
A sound.
Not from outside. Not from any phone or speaker.
But from inside his mind.
It echoed — deep, strange, powerful.
"The world is changing…"
Shams froze.
"Battle for Growth is appearing…"
His eyes shot open.
"What…?" he whispered, sitting upright.
His heart began to race — but this time, not from sadness. From something else.
Confusion. Fear. Wonder.
The room felt colder. The air around him, heavier.
He stood up slowly, scanning the room as if expecting someone — or something — to be there.
But he was still alone.
Still just… Shams.
And yet — everything had just changed.
Forever.