The next morning, the bazaar was already alive with shouts and clattering rickshaws when Ravi spread his mat. His hands shook—not with fear, but with anticipation. For the first time, he wasn't just guessing. He had Kaka's tools, Kaka's lessons, and a new confidence burning inside him.
"Phones repaired here," Ravi called out. "Guaranteed work—if it fails again, I'll fix it free."
The word guarantee drew curious glances. In Dharampur, no one promised such a thing. A woman hesitated, holding out a small torch that hadn't worked in weeks. Ravi took it carefully, opened it, and began working with steady precision. Ten minutes later, the bulb flickered to life.
Gasps. Then applause.
"See? Not magic," Ravi said with a smile. "Just care."
The woman beamed, pressing a coin into his hand. "May your hands never fail, beta."
Soon, a line formed. Radios, watches, lamps, phones—people who had once ignored him now returned. Ravi fixed each one slowly, carefully, making sure his repairs lasted. By evening, his little mat was surrounded by chatter and coins clinking into his tin box.
Across the street, Arjun scowled from his father's shop. His sneers weren't working anymore—Ravi's work was speaking louder than his words.
When Ravi finally packed up, Meera came running, her plaits bouncing, eyes wide with excitement. "Bhaiya! You're famous now! Everyone says you fix things better than the Sharma shop!"
Ravi laughed, ruffling her hair. "Not famous, Meera. Just trusted."
That night, he hurried to Kaka's corner. The old man sat with his back against the wall, half-dozing. Ravi spilled the coins into his lap.
"Kaka! Look—I earned all this today!"
Kaka's clouded eyes twinkled. He didn't touch the coins, only smiled faintly. "Good. But tell me, boy—how many people did you keep waiting, and how many came back angry?"
"None," Ravi said proudly.
"Then you've earned more than coins," Kaka whispered. "You've earned a name. Guard it well, Ravi. A name is the one thing thieves can never steal."
As Ravi walked home, the bazaar behind him glowing with lanterns, he felt something new surge within him—not just hope, but belief.
For the first time, the boy from the railway yard felt he could carve a future with his own hands.
And though Arjun's shadow still lingered in Dharampur, Ravi had lit his first spark.