In the quiet village of Suryapur, nestled among rolling green hills and golden fields of wheat, lived a boy named Raju. He was twelve years old, with eyes that sparkled like the stars on a clear night and a smile that could melt the hardest heart. Raju lived with his grandmother in a humble clay hut. Though they didn’t have much, they had each other and the love of their tight-knit community. Raju was no ordinary boy. While most of the other children spent their afternoons climbing mango trees or splashing in the cool waters of the village pond, Raju could often be found with his nose buried in the few tattered books he owned. He dreamed of things far beyond the confines of Suryapur—of bustling cities, airplanes soaring through the sky, and machines that could make life easier for his people. One day, while tending to the cows near the edge of the forest, Raju found an old, broken bicycle wheel. The villagers had a habit of tossing unwanted items near the forest. To them, it was junk, but to Raju, it was a treasure. He carried it back to his hut and spent the night tinkering with it. His grandmother shook her head, laughing softly. "You and your big dreams, Raju. Remember, it's the simple things that bring happiness." But Raju wasn’t deterred. "Dadi, if I can fix this wheel, I can make a cart. And with a cart, we can carry water more easily!" His grandmother smiled at his determination and let