Life Story:

My life's journey is like a tapestry woven with the vibrant colors of two distinct
worlds: the lively streets of Hyderabad and the comforting embrace of my native
village, Warangal. Each thread tells a story of love, laughter, and longing.

December 1, 2002, marked my entrance into this world, welcomed by the loving
arms of my parents, Somaiah and Sujatha, and the playful antics of my brother,
Dilip Raj. Childhood was a time of innocent joy and endless adventures in the rustic
charm of Warangal. I can still recall the scent of earth after a rainfall and the
warmth of family gatherings under the shade of ancient trees.

But then, life took an unexpected turn. We left the familiarity of Warangal behind
and ventured into the bustling streets of Hyderabad. Confusion filled my young
mind as I searched for answers amidst the chaos. Why did we have to leave?
Would we ever return? These questions lingered, unanswered, as we embarked on
this new chapter of our lives.

In Hyderabad, amidst the hustle and bustle of city life, I found solace in the
companionship of friends and the simple pleasures of childhood. Yet, there was
always a yearning in my heart for the tranquility of my village, for the laughter of
my grandparents, and the stories of generations past.

As the years passed and I completed my Class X, the longing for home grew
stronger. I yearned to reunite with my family, to walk the familiar paths of
Warangal once more. But responsibilities tethered us to the city, and my father's
heavy workload made it seem like an impossible dream.

Then, fate intervened in the form of the COVID-19 pandemic. Suddenly, our
priorities shifted, and we found ourselves on a journey back to our roots. The road
back to Warangal was filled with a mix of emotions – excitement, anticipation, and
a tinge of sadness for the life we were leaving behind.
But as we stepped foot in our village once more, we were greeted with open arms
and warm smiles. The joy of reuniting with family and reconnecting with our
heritage filled my heart to the brim. Every sight, every sound, was a reminder of
the simple pleasures of village life – the smell of freshly plowed fields, the
laughter of children playing, the sound of traditional songs drifting on the breeze.

In Warangal, I found more than just a home; I found a sense of belonging that I
had been searching for all along. As I walked hand in hand with my grandfather
through the fields, I felt a deep connection to the land and the people who had
shaped me into the person I had become.

The days passed in a blur of laughter and love, each moment etched into my
memory like a precious gem. In the embrace of my village, I discovered the true
meaning of community – the bonds that hold us together, even in the face of
adversity.

As I reflect on my journey, I am filled with gratitude for the experiences that

have shaped me and the people who have touched my life along the way. Though I
may wander far from home, the spirit of Warangal will always be with me, guiding
me on my path with love, laughter, and a sense of belonging that can never be
broken.

We embarked on our journey from Hyderabad to Warangal by bus, our hearts

heavy with uncertainty yet hopeful for what awaited us in our village. With no
alternative means of travel, we surrendered to the rhythmic hum of the bus engine
as it carried us closer to home. After a mere four hours, we finally arrived at our
destination – my village.

Stepping off the bus, I was enveloped in a wave of emotions that words alone
cannot express. The sight of my grandparents and relatives waiting for us, their
faces radiant with joy and love, touched the deepest corners of my soul. Their
warm embrace filled me with an overwhelming sense of belonging and comfort, as if
I had finally returned to where I truly belonged.
As we settled into our humble abode, neighbors poured in, their genuine curiosity
and concern bridging the gap between the city and village life. Their simple yet
heartfelt questions served as a gentle reminder of the tight-knit community we
had left behind.

That unforgettable night, gathered around the dinner table, we shared more than
just a meal – we shared stories, laughter, and tears. It was a rare moment of
intimacy and connection, one that etched itself into the depths of my memory.

Listening to my grandparents' tales of triumph and adversity, I couldn't help but

feel a swell of admiration and respect for their resilience. Their words painted a
vivid picture of village life, stirring within me a newfound appreciation for the
simplicity and beauty of rural living.

As the night grew darker, I found myself drawn to my "grandma," eager to soak in
her wisdom and insights. Our conversations flowed effortlessly, each word carrying
with it a sense of nostalgia and longing for the familiarity of village life.
I rarely stayed with my grandparents in the village for more than 2 or 3 days after
discovering my conjecture. Each time I visited, my grandparents would express
their sadness, lamenting, "Your father never comes to see us." Deep down, I always
held onto the hope that one day, our family would revisit our village. However, it
wasn't until 2018 that this hope came to fruition. Then, in April 2019,
circumstances aligned due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Both my father and mother
lost their jobs, plunging us into financial turmoil. The situation in Hyderabad
became untenable; with no steady income and the soaring cost of living, my father
made the tough decision for us to relocate back to Warangal. In that moment,
conflicting emotions of joy and sorrow swept over me.

The following day, I awoke with the first light of dawn, eager to explore the
enchanting beauty of the village alongside my grandpa. Together, we ventured
through fields teeming with life, where birds sang melodies that echoed through
the forests, and lakes shimmered in the morning sun. With each step, my grandpa
imparted his wisdom, unraveling the secrets of the land with every word.

Our journey led us to my family's farm, where lush fields of maize and rice
stretched out before us. The air was alive with the rhythmic chants of the
farmers, who worked tirelessly, their voices blending seamlessly with the melodies
of traditional songs. Everything seemed new and extraordinary to me; there was no
room for monotony in this vibrant world.

One memorable day, my brother joined us on the farm, and together we explored
every inch of the land, marveling at the fruits of our labor. It was during one of
these adventures that we encountered a snake, its sleek form gliding gracefully
towards its anthill. Though fear momentarily gripped me, the creature slipped away
silently, leaving me in awe of its graceful presence. It was my first encounter with
a snake, an experience I would never forget.

From that day forth, I found solace and joy in the company of the villagers,
forsaking the allure of television and social media for the richness of human
connection. Together, we delved deeper into the fabric of village life, uncovering
hidden stories and cherished memories of my father's childhood. In their eyes, I
was not just a visitor; I was family, bound by ties that transcended mere
bloodlines. Each interaction deepened our bond, weaving a tapestry of love and
kinship that warmed my soul.

The memories of my brief yet precious time in the village are etched into the very
fabric of my being, impossible to erase or forget. The love and warmth showered
upon me by my grandparents are treasures I can never repay, for such
unconditional affection was a rarity in my life. Every moment spent in their
presence was a gift, filling my heart with a joy I had never known before.

There's a special kind of magic in my grandma's house, a sanctuary of love and

comfort unlike any other. It's a place where time seems to stand still, and worries
fade away in the embrace of family.

Realizing the immense value of these moments, my parents, Amma and Nanna, made
a heartfelt decision to make regular visits to the village a priority. Twice a year, we
would return to this haven of tranquility, eager to immerse ourselves in the wisdom
and warmth of the village elders. Their stories, their laughter, and their timeless
wisdom became our greatest treasures, enriching our lives in ways we could never
have imagined.

In the arms of my grandparents and surrounded by the beauty of the village, I

found solace, inspiration, and a profound sense of belonging. These visits were not
just vacations; they were pilgrimages to the heart of what truly mattered – family,
love, and the timeless wisdom passed down through generations.

“From Joy to Sorrow: A Wedding Tale Amidst Lockdown”

The arrival of my "Pedananna" and "Peddamma" with their children to our village
during the pandemic lockdown initially filled our hearts with joy. It was a beautiful
reunion, marked by laughter and shared memories as my father greeted his
brother, and my grandparents revealed the pleasure of family togetherness.
Among the visitors were two of my favorite people, "Akka" and "Thammudu," with
whom I shared many cherished moments on the veranda of our house, discussing
school and life experiences. While "Thammudu" was known for his mischievous
pranks, "Akka" was a pillar of support, always there to lend a listening ear and
offer guidance in times of need.

Exploring the hills and the farm together, we introduced our guests to the village
community, immersing them in the charm of rural life. Each day brought new
experiences and shared adventures as we relished the simple joys of
companionship.

However, amidst the merriment, a cloud of sorrow descended upon us when

"Pedananna" revealed his intention to marry our elder sister, "Akka." Despite the
initial excitement within the family, "Akka" appeared saddened by the prospect,
her tears betraying a hidden anguish that pierced our hearts with sympathy.

As wedding preparations commenced in earnest, I found myself actively involved in

the arrangements, alongside family members who gathered to lend a helping hand.
From selecting bridal attire to distributing wedding cards, every task was
meticulously attended to, filled with a sense of anticipation tinged with
apprehension.

Tragedy struck when I met with an accident while delivering wedding invitations,
casting a shadow of worry over our family. Yet, despite the setback, we
persevered, determined to ensure that the impending nuptials would proceed as
planned.

However, the joyous occasion was marred by the restrictions imposed by the
lockdown, limiting the guest list to fifty people as mandated by the Telangana
government. What was meant to be a celebration of love and union now became a
source of frustration and disappointment for our large extended family, as we
grappled with the reality of a scaled-down affair.
As the wedding day approached, a bittersweet blend of emotions enveloped us,
reminding us of the fragility of happiness in the face of adversity. Yet, amidst the
challenges, we clung to the hope that love would triumph over all obstacles, paving
the way for a brighter future filled with shared joys and cherished memories.

Our hopes of celebrating a joyous wedding turned into a saga of sorrow and
resilience, marked by unexpected twists and turns that left us grappling with grief
and uncertainty.

Despite our fervent efforts to seek permission for a larger gathering, the
government's steadfast refusal dashed our hopes of a grand celebration. Faced
with the daunting prospect of postponing the wedding, we agonized over the
financial and emotional toll of such a decision.

Amidst the turmoil, our grandmother's deteriorating health cast a shadow over our
family, her battle with liver disease serving as a grim reminder of life's fragility.
As we stood vigil by her bedside in the hospital, her condition worsening with each
passing day, we were forced to confront the harsh reality of mortality.

When the doctors delivered the devastating news of her impending demise, our
world shattered, and the wedding plans came to an abrupt halt. As we mourned her
passing and paid tribute to her memory, the enormity of our loss weighed heavily
upon us, leaving us bereft of hope and adrift in a sea of sorrow.

For my "Peddananna," the blow of his mother's death was compounded by the
financial strain and the decision to leave the village in search of work. As we
grappled with our grief, my sister "Akka" found herself torn between relief at the
postponement of her marriage and the heartbreak of losing her beloved
grandmother.
In the midst of our grief, I found solace in caring for my grandfather, whose
sorrow mirrored my own. Together, we sought refuge in each other's company,
finding comfort in shared memories and village stories that bound us together.

Yet, even as we attempted to rebuild our shattered lives in Hyderabad, the echoes
of the village lingered in our hearts, a reminder of the indelible bond that tethered
us to our roots. Despite our physical distance from the village, my grandfather's
poignant words served as a poignant reminder that while we may have left the
village behind, its essence would forever remain ingrained in our souls.

And so, as we navigate the complexities of life's journey, we draw strength from
the resilience of our spirit and the enduring bonds of family that sustain us
through the darkest of times. For in the face of adversity, it is our shared
memories and unwavering love that illuminate the path forward, guiding us towards
a future filled with hope and possibility.

“Kirrak Chronicles: The Linguistic Battle”

On my birthday, which falls on December 1st, my father bought me some new

clothes. As soon as I laid eyes on them, I couldn't help but exclaim, "These clothes
are absolutely Kirrak!" Now, what followed was a classic dad lecture. He launched
into a speech about the importance of language and how it reflects on one's
character. According to him, using slang like "Kirrak" wasn't the best way to
present oneself. But here's the thing – I just can't shake off using that word. It's
practically ingrained in me! Every day at home, when I gather with my friends, it's
the go-to word for expressing admiration. Picture this: a lovely lady walks by and
my buddies yell out, "Arey Mawa Pilla Kirrak Undhe ra!" It's become our signature
phrase! So, while my dad's trying to school me on proper speech, I'm over here
caught in a battle between my dad's lessons and my love for the word "Kirrak." Oh,
the struggles of a linguistically rebellious soul!

“School Shenanigans: The Tale of Friendship and Suspensions”

Ah, the mention of school never fails to conjure up a plethora of memories – the
good, the bad, and the downright hilarious. While some may see school as a place
solely for academics, for me, it's been a wild rollercoaster ride of antics and
friendships.

You see, I've never been the model student. If I'm feeling a tad drowsy in class, I
transform that desk into my personal bedroom and catch some Z's at the back.
And if hunger strikes during a particularly dull lecture, well, let's just say the
forbidden snacks make an appearance. Needless to say, my peculiar antics tend to
ruffle a few feathers among the faculty.

But despite my less-than-stellar academic enthusiasm, it's the friendships that

keep me going back day after day. One friend, Philip, holds a special place in my
heart as the epitome of companionship.

Now, let me whisk you back to February 24, 2017 – Maha Shivratri, a day meant for
reverence and worship. Philip and I, being the mischievous duo we were, decided to
pay our respects to Lord Shiva at the temple outside school grounds. Of course,
scaling walls and sneaking out was all part of the adventure. And what better way
to cap off our escapade than with a trip to the movies to catch a Telugu flick,
"Ghazi"?

But alas, our joyous escapade came crashing down when we returned to school.
Summoned to the principal's office the next morning, we braced ourselves for the
inevitable scolding. Little did we know, suspension awaited us – a harsh reality
check for our impromptu nocturnal adventures.

Now, as painful as it was at the time, this incident has become a cherished memory.
Every time I think back on it, I can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of our
escapades. Oh, the folly of youth!

"The Roti Revelation: A Dreamy Culinary Adventure"

People often seek solace in comfort foods like ice cream, juice, burgers, and cakes,
but for me, nothing beats the soothing embrace of Roti with Egg Curry. The mere
thought of the Rotis and egg curry cooked by my "amma" during my childhood
brings waves of nostalgia crashing over me. I've sampled Rotis in various
restaurants, at relatives' homes, and countless other places, but none have ever
come close to matching the taste of my mom's creation. There's just something
about homemade food that adds that extra sprinkle of magic – a touch that no
other dish can replicate.

Rotis, in all their glory, come in a delightful array of flavors, each with its own
distinct taste. Among my favorites are the Tandoori Roti, Rumali Roti, and the
sweet goodness of Jaggery Roti. Oh, the sheer joy of sinking my teeth into a warm,
freshly made Roti straight from the oven!

Now, don't get me wrong – as much as I adore Rotis, indulging in them every single
day doesn't quite hit the spot. It's those rare occasions, once or twice a week,
when I treat myself to the heavenly delight of Rotis that truly make my taste buds
dance with joy. Just the mere sight of those circular wonders is enough to set my
mouth watering in anticipation.

One fateful day, I decided to embark on a culinary adventure and try my hand at
making Rumali Roti, something I'd never attempted before. With flour, water, and
a pinch of determination, I set out on my mission. Round and round I went, shaping
the dough into a perfect circle, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the pan
heating on the stove. And then, just like that, my masterpiece was complete – or so
I thought.

But alas, my culinary dreams were abruptly interrupted when my mother barged in,
rudely reminding me of the time. It was 8:30 PM, she exclaimed, and I needed to
snap out of my dream world, hop out of bed, and prepare to face the reality of
eating Idli with sambar – a dish I detested with every fiber of my being.
It was at that moment of cruel awakening that I realized the truth: my
Roti-making escapade had been nothing more than a figment of my imagination. Oh,
the disappointment! But fear not, for armed with newfound knowledge from my
dreamy adventure, I now know exactly how to conquer the world of Roti and egg
curry. And who knows, maybe one day, my culinary creations will rival even my
mother's legendary dishes. But until then, I'll just have to make do with the
bittersweet taste of reality – and perhaps the occasional dreamy indulgence in Roti
bliss.

"From Boarding School to Bright Horizons: My Journey to Azim Premji

University"

Stepping out of the confines of boarding school into the scorching heat of summer,
I couldn't shake off the feeling of being a "frog in the well." Despite the
challenges brought about by the COVID-19 pandemic, I completed my XII class
without facing any exams. However, instead of returning home immediately, I chose
to stay back at the residential school to prepare for the JEE and strive for
admission into Azim Premji University (APU) through its entrance exam.

Days turned into weeks, and soon it was time to bid farewell to the familiar halls of
the boarding school. As I made my way back home, a mix of apprehension and hope
for the future filled my mind. While I had initially set my sights on excelling in the
JEE, the disruptive influence of the pandemic had dimmed my prospects.
Nevertheless, I refused to let my aspirations be dampened by the circumstances.

Amidst the buzz of relatives and neighbors offering well-meaning advice, urging me
to make the right choices for my future, a sense of fear began to gnaw at me. The
pressure to chart a path towards a vibrant and fulfilling future weighed heavily on
my shoulders.

Undeterred by the setbacks, I cast my net wide, applying to a multitude of

universities beyond the realms of IITs and NITs. From Hyderabad University to
HCL Tech Bee, from Ashoka University to Azim Premji University, my applications
spanned the spectrum of academic degrees and engineering disciplines.

As I embarked on this journey of uncertainty and possibility, I held onto the belief
that each step, no matter how daunting, brought me closer to realizing my dreams.
With determination as my compass and resilience as my guiding light, I ventured
forth, eager to embrace the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead on the
path to Azim Premji University and beyond.

After facing disappointment in my pursuit of admission to prestigious institutions

like IITs and NITs, and falling short in the entrance exam for Ashoka University,
I found myself at a crossroads in my academic journey. Hope seemed like a distant
memory, and the shadows of uncertainty loomed large over my career prospects.

However, amidst the despair, a glimmer of light emerged when I received the news
of being selected for an interview at Azim Premji University. The anticipation and
excitement that surged within me as I prepared for the interview were
unparalleled. And when the moment arrived, I gave it my all, pouring my heart and
soul into every word spoken.

The weeks that followed were filled with restless anticipation, until finally, the
much-awaited email arrived, bearing the news of my admission to Azim Premji
University to pursue a B.Sc in Mathematics. It was a moment of triumph, a beacon
of hope shining through the darkness of doubt.

Yet, as I basked in the joy of this newfound opportunity, a tug-of-war ensued

within me. My heart yearned for a career in engineering, a dream I had harbored
for so long. But amidst the pressures from my relatives and my "Nanna," who
rejoiced at the prospect of my enrollment in APU, I found myself torn.

Ultimately, I made the decision to embrace this unexpected turn of events and
embark on a new chapter at Azim Premji University. As the days stretched lazily
into summer, I allowed myself to revel in the simple pleasures of life, savoring
every moment of freedom before the journey ahead.

And so, on a crisp August morning, armed with determination and accompanied by
friends, I set forth on a journey from Hyderabad to Bangalore. Navigating the
bustling streets of Majestic and grappling with the unfamiliarity of the Kannada
language, I found my way to Azim Premji University, ready to embrace the
challenges and opportunities that awaited me with open arms. It was the beginning
of a journey filled with unexpected twists and turns, but one that would ultimately
lead me towards my true calling and purpose.

As I set foot on the grounds of Azim Premji University for the first time, a surge
of excitement and anticipation coursed through me. The prospect of embarking on
this new chapter of my academic journey filled me with joy and apprehension in
equal measure.

On that fateful day, as I navigated the unfamiliar terrain of the university, I

found myself striking up a conversation with a fellow first-year physics student,
despite our linguistic differences. Little did I know then that this chance
encounter would lead to the discovery of a lifelong friend and roommate, Sambhav.

With Sambhav by my side, the once-empty room transformed into a sanctuary of

shared experiences and mutual support. Yet, despite the comfort of companionship,
the looming specter of my own introversion cast a shadow over my initial days at
the university.

As the semester unfolded, I grappled with feelings of inadequacy and isolation,

struggling to find my place in a community of vibrant and outgoing individuals. The
pressure to conform to societal expectations weighed heavily on my shoulders,
amplifying my fears and insecurities.

But amidst the darkness, a beacon of hope emerged in the form of Sambhav's
unwavering encouragement and support. His belief in my abilities and willingness to
lend a helping hand reignited the spark of determination within me, propelling me
forward in my academic journey.

Yet, despite Sambhav's guidance, the road ahead remained fraught with
challenges. The demands of academic rigor and the fear of falling short haunted
my every step, casting doubt on my ability to thrive in this new environment.

In moments of despair, I turned to my "Nanna" for solace and guidance, seeking

reassurance in his unwavering faith in my potential. And though the path ahead
seemed daunting, his words of wisdom served as a beacon of hope, urging me to
persevere in the face of adversity.

As the semester break beckoned, I returned home to the warm embrace of family,
finding solace in familiar surroundings amidst the chaos of uncertainty. And though
the prospect of returning to university filled me with trepidation, I resolved to
face the challenges ahead with renewed determination and resilience.

As the months passed, I slowly but steadily began to find my voice amidst the sea
of unfamiliar faces, forging connections and friendships that transcended the
barriers of introversion. And though the journey ahead remains uncertain, I cling
to the hope that with each passing day, I inch closer towards realizing my true
potential.

As I gaze towards the horizon, I am filled with a sense of optimism and

anticipation for the years that lie ahead. For while the road may be long and
winding, I am confident that with the unwavering support of friends and family, I
will emerge stronger and more resilient than ever before. And so, with hope in my
heart and determination in my soul, I embark on this journey of self-discovery,
ready to embrace the challenges and opportunities that lie ahead at Azim Premji
University.