Built from defeat: Meet these Indians who have braved challenges in life only to succeed

Anshu Pande lost her Australian dream life, but did not let it stop her from dreaming again. Pic Courtesy/Anshu Pande

Anshu Pande still remembers the day her visa hopes fell apart. She had done everything right. She studied in Australia, took on unpaid gigs, cleaned homes, stuck through a teaching job despite debilitating period cramps. But when the company she had poured herself into refused to sponsor her visa, she was forced to pack her life into suitcases and board a flight back to India. "I was mentally exhausted," she says. "I had no idea what to do next." This isn't a story about winning. It's about people like Pande - and so many others - who lose: opportunities, careers, dreams. But they keep going.

One can react badly, like chess world No 1 from Norway, Magnus Carlsen, who shocked the world by slamming the table on losing to world champion D Gukesh during a classical match in the Norway Chess 2025 championship last week. Or, one can get up and try again, like Royal Challengers Bengaluru (RCB), which went on to lift their maiden IPL trophy last week after nearly two decades of heartbreak. And like PV Sindhu, who clawed her way back into form at the Indonesia Open after a series of injuries and disappointments. Looking at them, we're reminded that it is in the persistence after a fall, and a willingness to show up again, that finesse reveals itself.

Going from 0 runs to 100 in his debut, Dilip Vengsarkar never looked back at the failed moments. Pic/Instagram@DilipVengsarkarCricketAcademy

For Pande, the fall felt steep. In 2019, she left Jaipur with a checklist and a plan: Get her master's, land a job, and build a future abroad. But the next few years were a haze of gigs that didn't pay, a stint as a volunteer PR writer for the UN, and a teaching job that ended when she took leave for painful periods. "They said they supported period leave," she recalled, "but when I missed work, they let me go."

Still, she persisted. Then came a glimmer: a communications role with a promise of visa sponsorship. She gave it everything. However, as her visa neared expiration, the company backed out. "They just didn't want to do the paperwork," she says. With a heavy heart and heavier bags, she returned to Jaipur, but a part of her refused to stop. She started to work on launching Qala, a digital magazine for artists, and began applying for jobs again. Months later, she found a role in Pune that finally felt like the fresh start she had worked so hard for.

"I still cry about it sometimes," she admits. "But the rose-tinted glasses are gone." That quiet defiance, that turning of the page, often starts earlier than we think. Sometimes on a cricket field, with a bat in hand and a debut on the line.

In 1975, Dilip Vengsarkar was 18 and had already made a name for himself in Mumbai's cricket circles. His debut for Bombay in the Ranji Trophy came with the weight of enormous expectations. But it didn't go as planned. "I still remember it clearly - I scored a duck in my first innings," he says. "It felt terrible. At that moment, I really thought I had no chance anywhere else." But the Bombay dressing room didn't echo his fears. It absorbed them. His teammates, veterans of the game, offered more than just consolation. They gave him permission to fail. "They told me, ‘It's okay. It happens. You'll do better next time.' That helped me hold my confidence."

Being rejected from the premium MBA colleges and good companies, Rajeev Banerjee was going through a depressive phase of his life, but resilience made him go on. PIC/M FAHIM

The next time came quickly in the Irani Cup in Nagpur. Vengsarkar scored a century. That innings became his ticket to the Indian team for an unofficial Test against Sri Lanka. "I never looked back after that." "[Losing] hurts," he says. "And it should. But you can take that hurt, channel it, and give your best shot the next time." Because grace doesn't lie in pretending you're fine. It lies in preparing better - and showing up again. Some, like Pande and Vengsarkar, found that second chance early. For others, the waiting is longer. Sometimes decades long.

Rajeev Banerjee graduated in 1989 as an electrical engineer in a market where jobs were few and far between. He cleared entrance tests for top MBA institutes, even tried his hand at Army recruitment but each time, he'd get to the final round and fail. After nearly a year of closed doors, he took the first job that came his way - selling cutting tools across India. It wasn't in his field, but it kept him moving. That sales job led to a trainee engineer role, and slowly, two decades of experience and trust in the industry.

In 2012, Banerjee co-founded Alliance Thermal Engineers Pvt Ltd with two colleagues. They had no office, no land - just three partners and their reputation. Within three months, they landed a major order from Jindal, and kept soaring higher. The company now clocks Rs 24 crore in annual turnover. He still remembers the struggle of watching peers get cushy placements while he knocked on doors. "It was a depressing phase of my life. I knew I wasn't brilliant and so I worked harder, and still do."

Ask him today what kept him going, and he answers without hesitation, "Resilience. If you let yourself collapse mentally, there's no way out. You need to find strength somewhere even if you build it yourself." He learnt that when no one offers you a seat at the table, you build your own. And if you're lucky, you make space for others, too.

Whether it's cricket, careers, or crossing continents in search of a better life, losing leaves a mark. It bruises egos, derails plans, shakes belief. But graceful losing isn't about smiling through disappointment or dressing it up with hope. It's about honouring the effort, acknowledging the pain, and standing back up with dignity.

Vengsarkar didn't let a duck define his career, Pande turned exile into a platform and Banerjee turned rejection into a business empire. Their stories cut through the noise of instant gratification and overnight wins - it reminds us that real victory often looks like quietly showing up again, long after the lights have dimmed.

Just like RCB. Just like Sindhu.

Because grace isn't in how you fall. It's in how you get back up.