Scene: A dimly lit room. Harry Senju sits in silence, facing the camera or his inner voice. His eyes hold pain, resilience, and truth. A moment of deep breath, then he begins to speak.]
Herry (narrating, soft tone): "Everyone loves a hero... especially when he's smiling. But what if I told you that heroes aren't born in light... but in the shadows their families ignore?"
The screen fades to black.
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Part 1: Innocence in Chains
I wasn't born extraordinary. In fact, I was born in a world that barely noticed me. A middle-class boy — nothing more, nothing less. My family struggled with money. Every day was a battle against survival, not success.
A cramped two-room house. Peeling walls. A single fan creaking above. A boy of 10 — thin, wide-eyed, quiet — sits with a tattered notebook. His name? Herry Senju.
He's scribbling stories in the margins of old textbooks. Dragons, hunters, shadows. Words are his escape.
As a child, I didn't understand what poverty meant. I just thought it was normal to see your parents argue over school fees, to wear the same uniform until it was too tight, or to sit quietly when your friends spoke about new gadgets. I had dreams back then. Simple ones — like having a proper bag for school, or maybe a cricket bat like the ones shown in ads. But dreams in a poor house are treated like luxuries — only for the rich to afford.
People say childhood is the happiest phase of life. For me, it was a training ground. A place where I was taught to survive — not live.
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Part 2: School – The Silent Battlefield
School was supposed to be my escape, my safe space. But it became another battleground. Every child wants to shine, to be praised, to feel proud. I wasn't any different. But I didn't have the tools to compete.
While others came with coaching, tuition, and support, I came with nothing but a heavy bag and heavier expectations. I sat in classrooms I barely understood because my family couldn't afford tuition. My notebooks were hand-me-downs. I couldn't participate in sports because I didn't have the gear. While others got encouragement, I got warnings — "Don't come home with low marks," "Why can't you be like Sharma ji's son?"
I wanted to scream: "Because Sharma ji's son has support, not just pressure."
But I stayed quiet. I always stayed quiet.
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Part 3: The Weight of Family Expectations
My family — they wanted me to succeed. But their definition of success was narrow. Marks. Degrees. A job. That's it. They didn't understand passion. They didn't believe in talent.
Whenever I asked for something — a book, a course, anything — I was told, "We don't have money for useless things."
My mother, Asha, tried to be there for me. My little brother Neel always looked up to me. And my father, Zuhan… he was tired. Life had broken him. He wanted to help, I know. But he didn't know how.
In that house, I had no voice. No respect. Just expectations thrown on me like bricks, one after another, until I was buried under them. They all expected me to become someone — without ever helping me discover who I was.
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Part 4: The Light Named Enky
But not everyone turned away.
There was one person who always stood by me — Enky.
My best friend. My brother in all but blood.
Enky saw me. He didn't care about my marks or my shoes or my background. He cared about my mind, my thoughts, my heart.
When I told him I wanted to be a writer, he didn't laugh. He said, "Then write. I'll read everything you write."
And I did. I wrote small stories, sometimes poems, sometimes just thoughts. Enky was always the first reader. He encouraged me more than anyone ever had.
I still remember — once, during a class break, I shared a story with him about a boy who could turn pain into power. He said, "You don't just write. You heal."
Those words stayed with me longer than any school lesson ever could.
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Part 5: Age 16 – The Breaking Point
By the time I turned 16, everything came crashing down.
I realized the truth — harsh, raw, undeniable: Study is just a step to success, not the road.
I had been lied to all my life.
They told to me, "Study is everything." But what they really meant was, "Don't dream. Don't explore. Just follow."
But I wasn't born to follow. I had already started to see through the cracks.
Knowledge wasn't enough. People with grades but no creativity were stuck. And those with ideas but no degrees? They were changing the world.
So I asked myself — what do I want?
And the answer was clear: I want to write.
But the more I tried to chase that dream, the more I was pulled back. My family called it a waste. My relatives mocked it. I became isolated. A boy with a dream no one believed in.
And slowly... I became an introvert.
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Part 6: Silence and Self-Discovery
I stopped talking. I started observing.
People thought I was shy. I wasn't.
I was broken.
Conversations felt meaningless. Friendships became difficult. I couldn't relate to people anymore. I had to hide my truth to fit in — and that hurt more than rejection.
I stopped connecting. I became a loner.
But in that silence… something happened.
I discovered my true self.
I wasn't a failure. I was unfinished.
I began to observe everything — emotions, expressions, behavior, pain. I turned every tear into a sentence. Every heartbreak into a plotline. Every scar into a story.
I started becoming the writer I was always meant to be.
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Part 7: The Rise of a Dreamer
Talent. That's what I had.
Not degrees. Not certificates. But talent.
I realized the difference — knowledge fills the mind, but talent fills the soul.
And when talent is combined with intent? It becomes power.
I stopped waiting for validation. I started validating myself.
I stopped begging for support. I started building my own pillars.
They said, "Knowledge is everything."
I say, "Talent with purpose can shake the world."
I may not have had the support. I may not have had the tools.
But I had the hunger. The rage. The fire.
Now, I no longer care about being accepted.
I will become the voice for the ones who were silenced.
I will become the hand for those who were left behind.
I will become the pen for those who were never allowed to dream.
I am Harry Senju — a name that was once ignored, but now it will be remembered.
Because legends aren't born. They're written.
And I am the writer of my own fate.
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[Scene fades as Harry looks out of the window — into the world that once turned its back on him. But his eyes now hold fire. Determination. The birth of something unstoppable.]
(To be continued...)