A Moral Story About Dreams and Sacrifice
He was boiling tea.
And his son was solving a math problem.
On a broken wooden table.
Under a weak yellow bulb.
In a small Indian town
lived a poor tea seller named Ramesh.
Everyone called him
“the chaiwala.”
His tea stall stood
near a busy bus stop.
It had no board.
No proper roof.
Only a rusty kettle.
And a few cracked glasses.
Every morning at 5 a.m.,
Ramesh opened his stall.
And every morning,
his son Aman sat beside him.
Aman was twelve years old.
He washed cups.
He wiped benches.
And between customers,
he opened his old schoolbook.
He dreamed of becoming
an engineer.
Ramesh had never gone to school.
He could not read English.
He could not write properly.
But he believed in one thing:
“My son will study.”
Every day, he earned
about three hundred rupees.
From that money,
he paid rent.
He bought food.
And he saved a little
for Aman’s school fees.
Some nights,
Ramesh drank only water.
So Aman could drink milk.
Their house had one room.
One bed.
One bulb.
When electricity went off,
Aman studied by candlelight.
Sometimes his eyes burned.
Sometimes his stomach growled.
But he never complained.
He only said:
“Papa, I will become something.”
At school,
children laughed at him.
“Your father sells tea,”
they said.
“You will sell tea too.”
One boy pushed him and said:
“Engineers are not born
in tea stalls.”
That night,
Aman cried silently.
Ramesh saw his tears.
He sat beside him and said:
“Son, people laugh
before they clap.”
“Study.
Your time will come.”
Aman studied hard.
He topped Class 10.
His teacher called Ramesh.
“Your son is brilliant,”
she said.
“He should take science.”
But science meant
higher fees.
That night,
Ramesh sold his wife’s gold bangle.
When Aman refused the money,
Ramesh said:
“Gold can return.
Your chance will not.”
After Class 12,
Aman failed his entrance exam.
Then he failed again.
Neighbors whispered:
“Dreams don’t fill stomachs.”
Ramesh never scolded him.
He only said:
“One more try.”
On the fourth attempt,
Aman cleared the exam.
He got admission
in a government engineering college.
When he told his father,
Ramesh dropped the kettle.
He hugged Aman.
And cried like a child.
Four years later…
Aman stood on a stage.
Wearing a blue gown.
Holding his degree.
He was now
an engineer.
In the crowd sat Ramesh.
Still wearing his old shirt.
Aman called him on stage.
“This is my hero,”
he said.
The whole hall clapped.
Today,
Ramesh still sells tea.
But his stall has a new board:
“Engineer Chaiwala.”
And Aman still drinks tea there.
Every evening.
Not because he is poor.
But because he remembers
his roots.
🌟 MORAL
Dreams don’t need rich parents.
They only need sacrifice, patience, and courage.
A father’s belief can change a child’s destiny.
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