It was raining heavily. I sat by the window, watching the sheets of rain blur everything outside, and felt a quiet ache within. Such a beautiful opportunity… gone. And yet, I told myself, let it be their way. Perhaps it is better when children take their own decisions and live life on their own terms. Maybe this was also a way for me to step back — to no longer feel responsible for shaping Suyash’s life.
2. We were then living at Napean Sea Road in Mumbai, while my
sister Preeti and her son Suyash were in Kharghar, Navi Mumbai. I had spent
nearly 25 years of my life travelling from Kharghar in Mumbai’s local trains,
and not a single day passed without me feeling that precious time was being
lost in travel. That thought had stayed with me so strongly that when it came
to my own children’s education after their HSC, I was very clear — I did not
want them to spend their youthful years commuting. I wanted them to study in a
residential college, away from home. In my mind, it solved everything. I would
not have to rush every morning preparing lunch boxes, I could focus better on
my work which had become quite demanding after my promotion as an Officer, and
most importantly, the children would learn to live independently — managing
themselves, their time, their responsibilities, and slowly growing into
confident individuals.
3. But with Suyash, life had unfolded very differently. He lost
his father at the tender age of 11, after years of watching him battle brain
cancer. His childhood was not filled with carefree outings or vacations but
with hospital visits and uncertainty. Growing up as an only child with his
mother, he became her companion in every sense. Surrounded mostly by elders,
including my father, he turned into a gentle, helpful boy — running errands,
assisting with technology, helping others with mobile phones and smart TVs.
Then came the COVID years — two crucial academic years spent entirely at home
through online classes. His world had been small, protected, and deeply
intertwined with his mother’s.
And yet, somewhere within him,
there was clarity. He wanted to pursue Computer Engineering.
4. May 2023 brought with it the results — and with it, a quiet
disappointment. JEE Mains did not open the door to Advanced. BITSAT was not
encouraging. A few private universities had given admissions — Manipal, Amrita,
VIT — but the fees were high, hostel costs even higher, and still there was no
assurance of getting Computer Engineering. I suggested SASTRA University at
Thanjavur, a place we knew well because our own son had studied there. I had
seen how transparent their admission process was, how reasonable the fees were,
and how the peer group consisted of students who were sincere and grounded —
not necessarily toppers, but not weak either. It felt like the right place.
5. When Suyash got Computer Engineering (AI & DS) at SASTRA,
my heart was filled with joy. Silently, I offered my gratitude to Siddhivinayak
Temple, Prabhadevi, because somewhere deep within, I had wished for exactly
this for him — his desired stream, a good college, a path that could secure his
future.
But
life is never just about opportunities. It is about emotions — deep, binding,
sometimes overwhelming emotions.
6. For Preeti, this was not just about sending her son to college.
It was about letting go of the one person who had been her constant through
years of struggle. From the time her husband fell ill, it had always been just
the two of them, holding on to each other. The thought of sending him far away,
all the way to Thanjavur, felt unbearable. And Suyash, sensitive to his
mother’s feelings and aware of her financial situation, began to step back from
his own desire. He said he would study in Mumbai, in whatever stream he got
through MHT-CET.
7. They eventually secured admission in EXTC at a college in
Chembur. When they told me, I accepted it outwardly. But within, there was
unrest. I could already see the life ahead — long, exhausting train journeys
from Kharghar, the daily uncertainty, the anxious waiting of a mother if he got
delayed or unreachable, the limitations on his growth, his exposure, his
independence. And yet, I questioned myself — who was I to insist? What if he
could not adjust away from his mother? What if she could not stay alone? What
if, in the end, everything worked out anyway?
8. That rainy morning, as I sat by the window, these thoughts
weighed heavily on me. I expressed my sadness to my husband. He listened
quietly and said he wanted to speak to Suyash just once — to understand his
reasoning. I messaged Preeti accordingly.
9. And then, something unusual happened. My daughter called from
the US — something she rarely does so early in the morning. Almost
instinctively, I poured out everything to her. Her husband, who had studied
EXTC himself and later moved into the IT field, listened carefully and said
something so simple, yet so powerful: “If he wants Computers, he must study
Computers. Otherwise, he will have to come back to it later anyway.”
That
one sentence shifted something.
10. Soon, all of us were on a conference call — my daughter, my
son-in-law, Preeti, and Suyash. Questions were asked gently, but there was no
strong reason, no convincing explanation for why he should let go of Computer
Engineering. And then, my husband stepped in with quiet assurance — he said he
would personally take them to Thanjavur and settle everything.
What
happened next still feels unbelievable.
Between
6:30 am and 8:00 am, a decision that seemed final… changed completely.
Flight tickets were booked.
Hotel arrangements were made.
And just like that, they were ready to leave for Thanjavur.
11. Looking back at the events of the previous day, I cannot help but
feel that something beyond us was at work. The heavy rains, the long queues,
the technical issues during document upload, the sudden requirement of an HSC
hall ticket which was never asked before, the system not accepting uploads, the
counters closing — all of it felt like invisible obstacles. And then, something
even rarer — a pre-announced government holiday due to heavy rains, preventing
them from completing the process the next day.
It was as if every attempt to
finalize the Mumbai admission was gently being stopped.
12. When I called Preeti that morning, she said she was just about to
continue the process — upload documents and pay fees. But within those ninety
minutes, everything changed. There was nothing left to upload, nothing left to
pay. The direction itself had changed.
13. For me, this was nothing short of divine intervention. The
Almighty had worked through circumstances, through delays, through people —
even through us — to guide Suyash towards a path that was meant for him.
14. Today, Suyash is in his third year at SASTRA, doing well,
growing, becoming more confident with each passing day. Recently, he secured an
internship at a prestigious Government Institue in Mumbai for May 2026. And
when I look back at that rainy morning, I no longer feel a sense of loss.
Instead, I feel gratitude.
Because
sometimes, what we think we are losing is actually what we are being protected
from.
Sometimes,
when paths close, it is not rejection — it is redirection.
And
sometimes, faith quietly works in the background, arranging things in ways we
cannot even imagine.
All we
need to do… is TRUST.
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