Never Say Can't Do It, Say Haven't Done It Yet

There was a boy named Aditya. He was bright and curious, but whenever he faced something difficult, he would always say, "I can't do it." Whether it was solving a tricky math problem, learning to ride a bicycle, or painting like the local artist, Aditya would give up as soon as things got hard. He believed that some people were simply born with certain abilities, and he wasn’t one of them.

One day, the town buzzed with news that a traveling teacher, Guru Ji, was visiting. Known for his wisdom and ability to help people discover their true potential, Guru Ji was invited by the village chief to stay and share his knowledge.

Aditya, like most of the villagers, attended the gathering, though he remained at the back, shy and unsure of himself. Guru Ji sat on a large rock in the center of the town square, and his calm presence immediately drew everyone’s attention. After telling a few stories, he asked the crowd a question.

Guru Ji: "What is the hardest thing you have ever done?"

Villagers began sharing their experiences—some spoke of learning to read, others of building their homes. Finally, Guru Ji’s eyes fell on Aditya.

Guru Ji: "And what about you, young man? What is the hardest thing you’ve ever done?"

Aditya fidgeted, feeling nervous. "I haven't done anything hard because... well, I can’t do hard things."

Guru Ji smiled warmly. "You say you can't do hard things. But have you ever truly tried?"

Aditya shrugged. "I tried a few times, but I always fail. So, I guess I just can’t do them."

Guru Ji nodded thoughtfully and gestured for the villagers to listen closely. "Let me tell you a story, Aditya. It's about a little bird who couldn’t fly."

The crowd quieted as Guru Ji began.

Guru Ji: "There was once a small bird, just like you. She watched other birds flying high in the sky and thought, ‘I can’t do that.’ Every day, she sat in her nest, feeling sorry for herself, convinced that flying was something she could never do. Then one day, a strong wind blew her out of her nest."

Aditya leaned forward, intrigued.

Guru Ji: "In panic, the little bird flapped her wings wildly, struggling to stay in the air. Do you know what happened?"

Aditya shook his head. "No, what?"

Guru Ji: "She didn’t fall. She wasn’t soaring, but she was flying—clumsily, yes, but flying nonetheless. And in that moment, she realized something important. It wasn’t that she couldn’t fly—it was that she hadn’t flown yet. So, she practiced every day, and eventually, she soared higher than she ever imagined."

The story lingered in the air, and Guru Ji turned his gaze back to Aditya. "You see, Aditya, when you say, ‘I can’t,’ you close the door to learning. But if you say, ‘I haven’t done it yet,’ you leave room for growth and success. It’s not about being born with talent; it’s about patience and the courage to try again."

After the villagers began to disperse, Aditya lingered behind, staring at the ground, deep in thought. Guru Ji noticed and walked over to him with a warm smile.

Guru Ji: "Still thinking about the little bird, aren’t you?"

Aditya looked up, sheepish. "Yeah, I guess. But... what if I’m not like the bird? What if I’m just not meant to fly?"

Guru Ji chuckled softly and sat down next to Aditya. "Not meant to fly, huh? Well, the bird thought the same thing, didn’t she?"

Aditya scratched his head, unsure. "Yeah, but… she had wings! I’m not sure I even have those."

Guru Ji leaned closer, pretending to inspect Aditya. "Hmm… No wings here, I see. But," he said, tapping Aditya’s chest gently, "you’ve got something just as powerful inside—your heart and your will. That’s all you really need."

Aditya sighed. "But what if I still fall? What if I keep falling?"

Guru Ji grinned. "Oh, you will fall. Probably a lot!"

Aditya blinked in surprise. "Wait, what? Aren’t you supposed to say something encouraging?"

Guru Ji laughed heartily. "I am! Falling is part of the journey, my boy. You learn a little more every time. The trick is to keep getting up, dusting yourself off, and saying, 'I’ll try again.' And one day, you’ll find yourself flying without even realizing it."

Aditya’s face softened into a smile. "So... it’s okay to fall?"

Guru Ji winked. "More than okay! Falling means you're trying. If you weren’t trying, you’d still be sitting in the nest, right?"

Aditya giggled. "I guess so. But Guru Ji, what if I’m scared?"

Guru Ji gave a playful shrug. "Everyone’s scared of something. Even I was once scared of speaking to a crowd. Can you believe that?"

Aditya’s eyes widened. "You? But you're so calm!"

Guru Ji leaned in as if sharing a big secret. "Shh, don’t tell anyone," he whispered with a smile, "but my knees used to shake like leaves in the wind! But I kept speaking, one word at a time, and soon enough, the fear disappeared."

Aditya laughed, feeling lighter. "Okay... I’ll try to be like the bird."

Guru Ji stood up, brushing off his robes. "That's the spirit. Just remember: next time you want to say 'I can’t,' stop and say, 'I haven’t done it yet.' You’ll see—everything becomes possible."

Aditya nodded, determination sparkling in his eyes. "I’ll try! And I won’t give up... even if I fall."

Guru Ji smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Good. But if you do fall, try to land with style, alright?"

Aditya burst into laughter, feeling more hopeful than ever before. With a final nod, he waved to Guru Ji and ran off, ready to take on the world, one fall at a time.

The next morning, Aditya decided to put the lesson to the test. He wheeled out his bicycle, the same one he had failed to ride countless times before. But today, he said to himself, "I haven’t ridden it yet."

With a deep breath, he hopped on the bike. As expected, he wobbled, nearly fell, but this time, instead of giving up, he remembered the little bird. "I haven’t done it yet," he whispered. He tried again, and again, wobbling less each time. Hours passed, and by the afternoon, he had ridden the bike all the way down the street without falling once.

Aditya’s heart swelled with pride. For the first time, he realized that it wasn’t about immediate success—it was about perseverance. He hadn’t been unable to ride the bike; he just hadn’t learned how—yet.

Days turned into weeks, and Aditya applied his new mindset to everything. Whether it was a challenging math problem or a skill he had never tried before, he no longer said, "I can’t." Instead, he would say, "I haven’t done it yet." With each small victory, his confidence grew.

Years passed, and Aditya became known throughout the village, not for his natural talent, but for his persistence and determination. When people asked how he had become so skilled, he would smile and say, "It’s not that I’m better than anyone else. I just don’t say 'I can’t.' I remind myself that I haven’t done it yet—and that makes all the difference."

And so, Aditya’s story spread far and wide, inspiring others to change their perspective, to replace "I can’t" with "I haven’t done it yet," and to trust that with effort, patience, and belief in themselves, they could achieve more than they ever thought possible.