AUTOBIOGRAPHY

 

The Silent Battle: My Autobiography of Sleepless Nights and Repeated Failure

There was a time I believed that hard work was the ultimate answer. That if you give your hundred percent, the world has no choice but to give in. I was one of those students who didn’t just dream—I worked relentlessly toward it. The dream was to become a Chartered Accountant. The journey, I soon learned, would be more than just about exams and books. It would test every inch of my spirit.

I still remember the day I registered for the CA course. There was a fire in my eyes and a vision in my mind. I knew it was a tough course. Everyone around me had their warnings: “It’s not for everyone,” “Only a few make it,” they’d say. But I wasn’t discouraged. If anything, it only made me more determined. I knew what I was signing up for—or so I thought.

My first attempt was filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement. I had studied hard, followed the plan, ticked every topic, and revised as much as I could. When the results came and I didn’t clear, it was painful—but not devastating. I convinced myself it was just a stepping stone. I told myself, “You now know what the exam feels like. The next time, you’ll conquer it.”

And so began the most intense phase of my life. For the next few months, I poured every ounce of myself into preparation. I distanced myself from everything else—birthdays, outings, even casual chats. My routine was study, eat, sleep (if at all), and repeat. I stopped watching TV, deleted social media apps, and practically lived in my study room.

Sleep became a luxury I couldn’t afford. Even when I closed my eyes, my mind raced through audit standards and tax provisions. I revised more than I ever had, took multiple mock tests, and even scored well in some of them. I genuinely believed I was ready. This wasn’t blind hope—I had worked for it. I was confident.

But the results had a different story to tell.

I failed again.

This time, it felt different. It felt personal. I wasn’t just disappointed—I was shattered. The second attempt wasn’t just another try. It had cost me emotionally, mentally, and physically. And yet, the outcome was failure.

I didn’t know how to face myself. I remember staring blankly at the screen as the result loaded, hoping for a miracle. When it didn’t come, I didn’t cry at first. I just sat there—numb. The tears came later, in the silence of the night when no one was watching.

What hurt the most wasn’t the failure itself—it was the fact that despite giving everything, it still wasn’t enough. The feeling of worthlessness started creeping in. I questioned my intelligence, my decisions, even my identity. Friends and family said kind things—"It’s okay, you’ll do better next time," or "CA is tough for everyone." But their words felt distant. How could they understand the pain of watching your dreams slip away twice?

It became hard to get up in the morning. The thought of studying again made my heart heavy. I was stuck between wanting to quit and not wanting to be a quitter. That’s when I realized—this wasn’t just an academic failure. It was a mental and emotional battle. One that no one talks about.

No one sees the student who wakes up in the middle of the night, panicked about a paper months away. No one sees the self-doubt, the loneliness, the silence in the middle of a crowded room. This is the silent battle. And it’s one that so many students fight behind closed doors.

But somewhere in that darkness, I found something else—a quiet voice, still whispering: Try again. It wasn’t loud or confident, but it was there. And maybe that’s where strength really lies—not in never falling, but in choosing to rise again, no matter how many times you break.

Today, I’m still a CA student. I haven’t cleared yet. But I’m not ashamed of my failures anymore. They’ve taught me resilience, humility, and the true value of persistence. I’ve learned that success is not just about results—it’s about courage. The courage to keep going, even when everything inside you says stop.

This is my story. Not one of victory—yet—but one of survival, growth, and relentless hope. The sleepless nights may continue, but so will the fight.

Because one day, when I do become a Chartered Accountant, it won’t just be a degree. It will be proof that I stood tall through storms most people never even saw.

And that, to me, is the real achievement.