Mocked a thousand times
For the way he walks, the way he talks,
For the flesh he carries in his body.
He was mocked even for trying,
because they said he had no talent,
that he wasn’t good enough.
A boy who failed the civil lines,
told "you have no talent, no signs,"
Denied a desk at SB College door,
No roof, no rent - the station floor.
For seven days, he lived on tea,
On hunger, hurt, and mockery.
They laughed at how he walked the street,
At flesh, at silence, at his feet -
"Introvert. Loser." - branded young,
A name on his shadow hung.
He knows he doesn’t have any
so -called talent, but he believes that
trying itself is the greatest talent,
anyone could achieve.
Yet look at him today, he stands,
A teacher where ambition lands -
In one of India's greatest halls,
Where future civil servants call.
From the introvert who faced anxiety
for standing in front of a crowd, to teaching
and speaking before hundreds of people.
He taught where Andhra's best schools shine,
The I Nobody line called him,
He wrote - and won across the nation,
Sixteenth in all of India's creation.
If this ain’t success, then what?
If this is not a comeback, what?
He knows the world will never tire,
Of throwing stones into his fire.
No win will ever be enough,
To silence those whose words are rough.
But here's the truth they never knew -
Each time they mocked, he grew better
And still he was mocked,
Still he levelled up and continued.
He knows the mocking will never end,
but he will rise better than the last
time they laughed.
He knows the mockery won’t stop.
But this time, he will be sharper than
the last scar they left.
The mockery continued until his death.
The ones who mocked remained the same,
while the one who was mocked rose,
earned his name, and became known.
The ones who were mocked, and the ones
who mocked-both turned to dust.
Yet in heaven, he still tried.
From hell, they still mocked.
But between them lay a distance
Vast, untouchable and unreachable.