The weeks rolled on, and Abhiram's college life continued to test him in small ways. One of the things he had looked forward to most — the volleyball team — ended in disappointment. After a few practice sessions, he was told gently but firmly that the coaching was only for students who had already played at school level, not for beginners. There would be no real training for someone starting from zero.
For a moment, the news hit him hard. Volleyball had been his first big attempt to step outside his comfort zone. Quitting felt like another failure. But then, sitting quietly under the shade of a neem tree near the sports ground, he realized something: it wasn't the game that mattered, it was the courage to try. He had tried. He had learned something about himself. And he would try again elsewhere.
Meanwhile, he slipped back briefly into his Instagram routine, not for scrolling aimlessly, but to post stories about celebrities. He was fascinated by how, sometimes, the very celebrities he posted about would actually view his stories, his dashboard showing the growing reach — numbers, views, clicks. For a short time it was thrilling. He felt a rush seeing familiar names in the seen bylist.
But one night, as he scrolled through the viewers list, something inside him shifted. Among the names were a few of his past classmates and individuals connected to old memories — the people who had mocked him, or who reminded him of mistakes he didn't want to repeat. A sudden coldness ran through him. The fear of sliding back into old habits, of becoming trapped again in the cycle of comparison and distraction, crept up like a shadow.
He closed the app, sat still, and remembered the promise he had made to himself at the start of college : "No more distractions. No more mistakes."
So, when the waiting period ended, he didn't hesitate. He deactivated the account again. This time there was no second-guessing, no hesitation, no sense of loss — only a deep and surprising peace.
Without the noise of social media, his evenings felt lighter. His notebooks grew thicker. His thoughts became clearer. And in that clarity, a new idea began to form — not just a goal, but a mission. He named it "DASABASUTORE".
No one around him knew what it meant yet. It was something personal, a word that for him symbolized discipline, ambition, self-belief, and a story he wanted to write about his own life. It was a code, a promise, a path he would walk quietly until the results spoke for themselves.
Under the dim hostel corridor light one evening, Abhiram wrote the name at the top of a fresh page in his notebook:"DASABASUTORE – My Mission."
And as he underlined it, he felt the first stirrings of a new kind of strength.