Failed the Intermediate; Later at IBA I failed the Intermediate examination. This was in 1974. I felt terrible. My father was deeply hurt. He had high hopes for me. I was supposed to be the pride of the family, the one who would restore our honor. But I had let everyone down. The shame was unbearable. In our neighborhood, passing the Intermediate was considered a significant achievement. Those who failed were looked down upon. I couldn't bear to face people. I would avoid going out during the day, only stepping out after dark. My father didn't say much, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. My mother tried to console me, but her words felt hollow. I knew I had failed not just an exam, but the expectations of my entire family. For months, I stayed at home, doing nothing. I felt like my life had come to a standstill. All my friends had moved on to college, while I was stuck in this limbo of failure and self-doubt. Then one day, my father sat me down for a serious conversation. "Son," he said, "one failure doesn't define your entire life. You have to get up and try again." His words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of experience and wisdom. That's when I decided to pursue admission at the Institute of Business Administration (IBA). It wasn't going to be easy. The competition was fierce, and my academic record was now marred by failure. But I had to try. I couldn't let one setback determine my future. I threw myself into preparation with a determination I had never felt before. Every day, I studied for hours, pushing myself to understand concepts that had once seemed impossible. The fear of failing again drove me to work harder than I ever had. When the admission test results came out, I couldn't believe it. I had made it. I was accepted into IBA. The joy was overwhelming, not just for me, but for my entire family. My father's face lit up with pride, and I knew that this moment had made all the struggle worthwhile. Looking back now, I realize that failure taught me something success never could have. It taught me resilience, the value of hard work, and the importance of never giving up on your dreams. That failure at the Intermediate level became the foundation of all my future successes.

(Sharing a letter received in my inbox, adapted in my own way.)

Brother, I never enjoyed studying; and I reaped the consequences immediately. I got a golden A+ in matriculation. I enrolled at Chittagong College. Everyone knew me as a good student. In intermediate, I pretty much abandoned my studies. I would come and go from teachers' houses, never studying anything, hanging around in streets and alleys, returning home after 10 PM. I wouldn't listen to my parents, instead I'd argue with them, create chaos at home. I thought that was life. Brother, nobody fails from Chittagong College—failing intermediate is truly difficult. And that's exactly what I did. I was in science, couldn't do anything, had nothing to write, so I submitted blank answer sheets, brother. For the first time in my life, I truly recognized myself. I saw how everyone shunned me, how no one gave me two cents' worth of attention. Only my parents never said anything harsh—they just wept, only wept. Yet before, I thought everyone else was dear to me, while my parents felt like enemies.

I felt like crying so much, brother, but I was also ashamed to cry. Sometimes I thought of dying. Then again, if I died, my parents would cry even more—this thought tormented me too. I'd think about what would happen if I died, what wouldn't happen, and I'd feel afraid. I was like a madman for several months. Then my parents consoled me, saying that failing once doesn't matter. If I studied properly, I could do much better next time—my whole life lay ahead, if I tried I could go far, and so on and so forth. Brother, doesn't it sound amusing? But you know, at that time no one said anything kind to me, so whenever I heard something even slightly positive, my heart would swell with hope, and I'd think, I can do it too!

I took the exam the next time and did very poorly, but I passed. Brother, you know, during the exam the teachers would come stand in front of me and say, "Cross out this entire page, you've made it all soggy." I felt so hurt, I'd cry even during exams, my tears soaking the pages. I had never failed an exam in my life—as a child I always came first or second. That same me...! Anyway, with my poor results, forget getting admission somewhere good, I couldn't even sit for entrance exams. My father said he'd arrange for me to study medicine privately. Father didn't have that much money, he was thinking of taking a loan. Suddenly I felt I had caused my parents enough pain—no more. I almost forcibly enrolled in a degree course at a commerce college, at least father wouldn't have to beg anyone for my sake. Relatives, old friends, neighborhood people—nobody counted me for anything. No one, absolutely no one! Nobody respects National University students, brother. Though I used to feel the same way once, and now I had to study there. What irony, isn't it, brother? Everything truly comes back to you!

I was so angry with myself. Brother, being known as a good student from childhood is a terrible thing—you can never see yourself as small again. Everyone used to say good things about me before, now they said nothing. How angry I felt toward everyone! I thought nobody could stand me, everyone was my enemy. When no one loves you kindly, it hurts terribly, brother; and it just keeps hurting. I didn't talk much to anyone. When someone said something, I'd feel hurt, suppress the pain, but wouldn't say anything back. I'd think, they're right to say it—all the fault is mine! Brother, I've been tremendously stubborn since childhood; even without saying anything aloud, the stubbornness was still there.

As you know, degree is a three-year course; I started preparing for IBA from the middle of my third year. I thought, people consider those who study at IBA as good students—if I got admission there, maybe I could compensate a little for my failures! I prepared very thoroughly. For the first time in my life, I could decide what I actually wanted. Brother, one of your sayings is very dear to me. In your Facebook about section, you wrote, "It took me almost 2 decades to decide what I really want. When I'd decided finally, it took me only 1 year to get what I really want." You don't know how many of your words I have memorized, brother.

Anyway, even before my final results came out, I took the IBA exam and got in. Now everyone thinks my failure was just an accident, that I'm actually a very capable boy. Yet these same people once said, "If he doesn't fail, who will? Wanders around all day, no studying, mixing with worthless boys," and so much more. Brother, believe me, not everything they said was true. But I had failed, so I had nothing to say to them. It hurt even more when I saw them saying these things to my parents too. Now I think how much pain I caused my parents! Now no one says anything to my parents anymore. To me, this is the greatest achievement—studying at IBA is just a means to that end.

Brother, I believe that if someone sincerely asks Allah for something halal, and works properly to achieve it, then Allah never disappoints them. Brother, I feel embarrassed telling you all this, but somehow I felt I should. I know some things about you—you too have risen to your current position from very difficult circumstances. You wrote, "Being a nobody in this world isn't pleasant. Whatever anyone may say, this much is certain: for nobodies, only nothing is allotted in this world. We never imagine where life will take us." This is very true, brother. I've rambled on too much, please don't mind. You can't take BCS after just a degree—if it were possible, I would have tried. I'll take the BCS exam after finishing my master's—please help me a little, brother.