The Flame of Life

Sometimes, all it takes to revive a dream… is to reignite a flame.
Many sleepless nights and stress-filled study sessions had left Pratha drained mentally and physically. With her 10th board exams only weeks away, the pressure hung over her like a storm cloud.

She sat in silence, eyes wandering to the dusty trophy shelf in the corner of her room. Once a source of pride, it was now coated in cobwebs and memories. Each medal told a story of scraped knees, last-minute goals, and endless hours under the sun. Becoming a female footballer hadn’t been easy. But Pratha had never backed down. From the age of eight, she had trained fiercely, her heart set on one goal: to one day captain the Karnataka women’s football team. But now? She barely touched her football.

The girl who once sprinted across fields, shouting commands and scoring goals, now sat hunched at a desk all day, buried under books. The only races she ran were against deadlines. The only field she saw was the one in her chemistry textbook.

She looked longingly at her football kit, stowed neatly in a corner like a forgotten part of herself. The jersey still bore grass stains from her last match. Her cleats, once worn with pride, were now gathering dust.
With a sigh, she shut her books.
Enough revision for today.

Pratha slumped onto her bed, hoping for sleep, but her thoughts refused to quiet down. Her mind buzzed with formulas and dates, but her heart felt numb. A heaviness pressed against her chest, not just from fatigue, but from a deep sense of disconnection—from herself, from the field, from everything that once made her feel alive. She stared blankly at the ceiling, blinking back tears she couldn’t fully explain. How could she feel so empty when she was doing everything she was supposed to?

Restless and overwhelmed, she picked up her phone and called the one person who always made her feel grounded.
The line rang once. Then twice.

“Hello, Pratha,” came her grandmother’s soft, familiar voice. Just hearing it made Pratha feel safe and suddenly more vulnerable.
“Dadi…” her voice trembled, “I feel lost. I know my boards are important, but after this, it’s results, college, internships, jobs… it never stops. I feel like I’ve forgotten football. And maybe… maybe I should just give up on it.”

There was a pause. Then Dadi spoke, her voice gentle and calm.

“Do you have a candle nearby, beta?”
“A candle?”
“Yes. Light one for me.”
Pratha found one on her desk and lit it. The flame flickered softly in the dim room.
“I’ve lit it,” she said quietly.
“Good,” Dadi replied. “Now listen closely. That flame–that’s your life. Bright, beautiful, full of potential. The wick is your time and discipline–your studies, your routines, the effort you put in each day. But the wax… the wax is your dreams, Pratha.”

Pratha stared at the candle, mesmerized.
“Without wax, the flame doesn’t last. You can study, work hard, and do what’s expected–but if you don’t feed your soul with your passions, your life will burn out too fast.”

Then Dadi’s voice softened even more.

“I’m not saying you have to practice right now, beta. I know exams are near. But don’t give up on football. Don’t lock it away in some forgotten corner of your mind. Just remember it. Keep it alive in your heart. Because remembering is the first step to not losing yourself.”
A silence settled between them. This time, it felt peaceful.
Pratha smiled through her tears.
She stood up, walked over to the trophy shelf, and gently brushed away the cobwebs. As the dust cleared, the medals seemed to shine brighterreflecting not just light, but hope.
Because now she remembered who she wasand who she still could be.

***

This article is published by Bookosmia, India’s #1 publisher for and by young people. Bookosmia publishes stories, books, podcasts, events, TED-Ed talks, workshops, bedtime stories and more related to kids and young adults.

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