While Rohan was making strides in his training, life at home was becoming increasingly difficult. The crops had not been good that year, and the family's financial situation, which had always been precarious, was now approaching a critical point. The land that Amar Singh, Rohan's father, worked so hard to cultivate was not yielding enough to cover their basic needs, let alone the additional expenses that came with Rohan's training.
Rohan was acutely aware of the strain his training was putting on the family. The small amount of money they had saved was quickly dwindling, and there were discussions about selling a part of their land, something that had once seemed unthinkable. Rohan knew that his family was making sacrifices for him—sacrifices that weighed heavily on his conscience. Every day, he saw the worry in his parents' eyes, the unspoken tension that lingered in their home.
His mother, Shanti, tried to keep things normal, but Rohan could see the toll it was taking on her. She was the one who kept the household running, stretching every rupee as far as it could go, but even she was beginning to struggle. The constant pressure to make ends meet was wearing her down, and it pained Rohan to see her so tired and stressed.
One evening, after a particularly tough day in the fields, Rohan found his father sitting alone outside, staring at the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a golden light over the fields, but there was no peace in Amar Singh's expression. Rohan hesitated for a moment before approaching him.
"Papa," Rohan said quietly, taking a seat next to his father. "Is everything okay?"
Amar sighed, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled. "Things are difficult, beta," he admitted, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "The crops aren't doing well, and there's not enough money to go around. I don't know how we're going to make it through the next few months."
Rohan felt a pang of guilt. He knew that his training was expensive, that the trips to competitions, the proper nutrition, and the equipment all added up. "Maybe I should stop training for a while," Rohan suggested, though the words felt like a knife in his heart. "I can help more in the fields. We can save money that way."
Amar turned to his son, his expression softening. "No, Rohan. You're working hard, and you have a chance to do something great. We can't let this situation hold you back. We'll find a way to manage, but you must keep going. This is your dream, and I won't let it slip away."
Rohan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He knew his father meant every word, but that didn't make it any easier. The pressure of knowing that his family was struggling because of him was a heavy burden to bear. He felt torn between his love for his family and his desire to pursue his dreams.
That night, Rohan lay in bed, unable to sleep. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to believe in his father's words, to trust that everything would work out, but the reality of their situation was impossible to ignore. The training, which had once been a source of joy and purpose, now felt like a weight dragging him down.
The next day, during training, Mr. Kumar noticed that Rohan was not his usual self. His movements were sluggish, his focus seemed to be elsewhere, and he lacked the usual fire that drove him.
"Rohan, what's going on?" Mr. Kumar asked after they finished a set of sprints. "You're not yourself today."
Rohan hesitated, unsure whether to confide in his coach. But he had always been honest with Mr. Kumar, and he knew that he couldn't keep this to himself any longer. "It's my family, sir," he said quietly. "Things are tough at home. The crops aren't doing well, and money is tight. I'm worried that my training is putting too much pressure on them."
Mr. Kumar listened carefully, his expression thoughtful. "I understand, Rohan," he said after a moment. "These are difficult times, and it's natural to feel torn between your responsibilities to your family and your desire to pursue your dreams. But you have to remember why you started this journey in the first place. You're not just doing this for yourself—you're doing it for them as well."
Rohan looked up, meeting Mr. Kumar's steady gaze. "But what if I'm making things worse?" he asked, his voice filled with doubt. "What if I'm chasing something that will never happen, while my family is struggling just to survive?"
Mr. Kumar placed a hand on Rohan's shoulder. "Rohan, you have a gift, and gifts like yours are rare. I know it's hard right now, but you can't give up. You have to find a way to push through, for yourself and for your family. Success doesn't come easy, but it's the struggles we face along the way that make us stronger."
Rohan nodded, though the doubt still lingered. He knew that Mr. Kumar was right, but the weight of his family's struggles was not something he could easily shake off. Every time he stepped onto the track, he felt the pressure of their expectations, the fear of letting them down.
In the days that followed, Rohan continued to train, but his heart wasn't fully in it. The joy he had once felt in running was overshadowed by the constant worry about his family's financial situation. The question that plagued him was whether he was being selfish in pursuing his dream, whether it was worth the sacrifices his family was making.
But deep down, Rohan knew that this was what he was meant to do. Running was more than just a sport for him—it was his passion, his way of making something more of himself. He just needed to find a way to reconcile that passion with the reality of his family's situation.
And so, with a heavy heart, Rohan pushed forward, determined to find a way to make it all work. The road ahead was uncertain, but he knew that he couldn't turn back now. Not when he had come this far.