During Diwali, the festival of lights, the sprawling city of Varanasi was decorated with lamps. But in a small impoverished corner, a young boy named Ravi lived. His face was ashen from hunger and worry. His father had died, and he had seen his father’s corpse being taken away. He was only nine, but he had to make ends meet by selling pancakes. He would often doze off during the day from exhaustion, spilling the batter everywhere. He was constantly in great dread of being caught in the crossfire of local gangs. His destiny looked bleak.

One evening, while sprinting to deliver orders, he accidentally bumped into a wealthy woman. She looked at his wan face and tired eyes. Instead of scolding him, she gave him a wan smile of her own. She was a lionized social worker who had lost her son in an accident. She decided to walk in his shoes. She realized that his struggles were just the tip of the iceberg. She helped him enroll in a boutique school with sophisticated facilities. Ravi, who had been building castles in the air and living in a fool’s paradise, finally saw reality. He decided to turn over a new leaf. He stopped burning the midnight oil aimlessly and started studying behind the scenes. His tenacity became irresistible. He learned that mind over matter was real. Years later, he became a doctor. On every Diwali, he would visit the slum and give wan but hopeful smiles to children. He proved that time and tide wait for none, but better late than never. That misadventure of his childhood was a blessing in disguise. He said, “Never take praise with a pinch of salt; instead, use it to go the extra mile.”

During the annual festival of Eid, a sprawling slum was decorated with lights. But beneath the celebration, a dark secret lurked. A local tycoon had been emaciated by guilt after his insubordination caused a factory disaster. The sharecroppers who worked for him were impoverished and their faces were ashen with fear. One day, a young activist named Zara arrived. She saw the corpse of a worker who had died from unsafe conditions. She couldn’t doze off that night, haunted by the image. She started sprinting from door to door, gathering witnesses. She was spilling tears of anger and determination.

Her face was wan from exhaustion, but her spirit was resolute. She knew that the visible disaster was just the tip of the iceberg. She wrote a dissertation exposing the truth, which was in black and white. The tycoon tried to burst her bubble with threats, but she stood her ground. She told him, “Cut to the chase—your incongruity is exposed. Actions speak louder than words. You cannot build castles in the air to hide this crime.” The media lionized her, and her work was called unprecedented. Some condemnatory articles tried to take her achievements with a pinch of salt, but she remained down to earth. She said, “Success is a double-edged sword. I have learned to face my fears and go the extra mile. Now the ball is in your court—will you help these ashen-faced families?” Her wan smile became a symbol of hope.