In the small riverside village of Chandipur, where the river met the golden fields, lived a boy named Ayan. He loved the sky more than anything. Every evening, he would climb the old mango tree beside his house and watch the sunset paint the clouds in orange and purple.
Ayan was not rich. His father was a fisherman, and his mother stitched clothes for the villagers. But Ayan had something many people didn't — dreams. Big, fearless dreams.
He wanted to leave the village one day and become someone important. Someone the world would remember.
But he didn't know… the world was already planning to give him something far more important than success.