he first day Rajiv stepped into the grand corridors of the law school, he felt a strange mixture of awe and contempt. The building itself was a symbol of tradition and authority, with its polished marble floors and towering columns, yet to him it smelled faintly of hypocrisy. Around him walked students draped in privilege, children of politicians, bureaucrats, and industrialists—the very people who had been shielded by the system he now sought to dismantle.
Rajiv carried nothing but a worn leather bag and the weight of humiliation he had endured for years. Yet in his eyes burned a quiet, consuming fire. This was not just an academic journey; it was the forge where he would temper the weapons he would use against those who had scorned him.
His first lectures were a revelation. Constitutional law, torts, criminal procedures—they were more than just academic texts. They were tools, blueprints for dismantling injustice. Every case study was a battle waiting to be fought, every precedent a seed of power to be planted. While other students memorized dates and sections for marks, Rajiv dissected motives, explored loopholes, and imagined the real-world consequences.
The professors, initially dismissive of the orphan boy with no pedigree, quickly recognized his brilliance. He could argue a point with precision and logic that left seasoned students stumbling. Yet Rajiv remained quiet in social circles, observing, calculating, and learning. He noted the hierarchy of influence: which students were favored by professors, which groups could sway elections in student bodies, and which networks extended beyond the campus into the corridors of power.
Late nights became his true classroom. In the dim glow of his desk lamp, Rajiv devoured landmark judgments, analyzed economic crimes, and reconstructed legal strategies of high-profile cases. The criminal minds of corporate fraud, the subtle manipulations of ministers, and the bureaucrats' careful dance of corruption—all were mapped meticulously in his notebooks. He made lists, diagrams, and mental timelines. Every law he learned was a sword; every loophole, a key.
But Rajiv's transformation was not only intellectual. His emotional armor was just as critical. He recalled the sneers during the IAS interviews, the whispers about his caste, his orphan background. The venom of humiliation had been stored like fuel, and now it fed a growing reservoir of cold resolve. He would no longer plead for recognition. He would take it. By merit, yes—but also by shrewdness, patience, and strategy.
Among his peers, a subtle tension began to grow. Those who had assumed he would fade into obscurity found themselves on the defensive during moot court competitions. Rajiv's arguments were precise, unrelenting, and persuasive. Professors who had once overlooked him now sought his insight, sometimes with admiration, sometimes with wariness. He noticed the envy, the fear that knowledge alone could inspire, and he let it linger quietly in the background, never wasting energy on trivial rivalries.
During breaks, he wandered the city, blending observation with planning. He noted the habits of the elite: how politicians lived behind security walls, how bureaucrats moved between districts with impunity, and how businessmen leveraged laws to hide illegal wealth. Rajiv's mind never rested. Each observation was filed, analyzed, and cross-referenced. By the end of the first year, he had constructed mental dossiers on hundreds of influential figures, knowing their vulnerabilities before they even realized it.
Yet, despite his growing power, Rajiv's humanity remained intact. He remembered the street children he passed on his walks, the orphan boys and girls who reminded him of his own past. He quietly helped them with legal advice, school applications, and small interventions. He did not seek gratitude; these acts were rehearsals of his larger justice, an early exercise in protecting those the system ignored. These moments grounded him, reminding him that his mission was not mere revenge—it was the administration of righteous justice, even if the world called it ruthless.
The second year brought practical exposure. Internships at law firms, shadowing senior advocates, and observing courtrooms in session allowed him to see the mechanisms of power in action. He watched as the wealthy manipulated evidence, coerced witnesses, and employed loopholes to evade accountability. The law was a sword, yes—but in inexperienced hands, it could be turned against the very people it was meant to protect.
Rajiv, however, was no novice. He learned quickly, absorbing strategies and anticipating tactics before they were deployed. He argued in small cases, often pro bono, representing those who had been wronged by minor bureaucrats or petty politicians. Each victory, though small, honed his ability to wield the law like a scalpel—precise, deadly, and surgical.
By the time the third year began, Rajiv was no longer merely a student; he was an emerging force. Professors whispered his name, peers eyed him with envy, and rival law students began plotting subtle sabotage, unaware that they were playing into his larger plan. The orphan boy they had dismissed was now becoming a lawyer who could cut through the fabric of privilege like a chainsaw through wood.
It was during a late-night study session in the library that Rajiv paused and reflected on his journey. The path he had chosen was not easy. Years of hardship, ridicule, and betrayal had prepared him, yes—but they had also hardened him. His mind was a steel trap, his resolve unbreakable, and his conscience clear: the powerful who had once thought themselves untouchable would face a reckoning unlike any they had imagined.
He allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. In the eyes of the world, he was still a young, orphaned lawyer-in-training. But in his own mind, he was already several steps ahead of the system. Every law he learned, every case he studied, every injustice he observed was another piece of the machinery he was building.
The storm was coming.
And Rajiv, who had once begged only for recognition, would now deliver justice—cold, precise, and inevitable.