The Journey longer than the Road



I grew up in one of the most remote villages of Bhutan, where mountains stood tall, and paths were narrow and unforgiving. Every morning before sunrise, I began my journey to school, walking nearly three hours through forests, rivers, and steep hills. The road was long, my feet often sore, but my dreams were longer than the distance I walked.

My parents worked hard, yet they could not afford everything the school demanded. New uniforms, books, and proper shoes were beyond our reach. I wore a torn pair of slippers for almost a year. The soles were thin, and stones pierced through with every step, but I learned to walk with courage instead of complaint. Sometimes I felt embarrassed, especially when I saw others with new shoes, yet I reminded myself why I was walking to learn, to grow, and to change my future.

There were days when rain soaked my clothes, and dust covered my face, but hope never left my heart. My parents’ sacrifices became my strength. Each painful step shaped my resilience. Today, when I look back, I realize that those torn slippers carried not just my feet, but my determination, dreams, and the beginning of who I am today.

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