Lay The Groundwork (A Dramatic Monologue) Poem by ashok jadhav

(The stage is dim. The floor is bare, almost unfinished. The speaker kneels briefly, touches the ground, then rises.)
No one applauds the beginning.
They cheer the finish line,
the ribbon cut clean,
the victory raised high.
But the beginning—
the slow, silent beginning—
happens in shadows.
(Pause.)
This is where I stand.
Before the praise.
Before the proof.
Before the world believes.
I am here
to lay the groundwork.
(He looks down at the floor.)
Foundations are not glamorous.
They hide beneath feet,
carrying weight
without being seen.
They do not sparkle.
They do not announce themselves.
Yet everything depends on them.
(Pause.)
I learned early
that rushing builds nothing lasting.
That ambition without preparation
collapses under its own urgency.
I watched others soar quickly—
and fall just as fast.
Their towers were tall,
but their roots were thin.
(He steps forward.)
So I chose patience.
Not because I lacked hunger,
but because I respected endurance.
I studied.
I practiced.
I failed quietly.
While others chased applause,
I chased understanding.
(Pause.)
Every small effort
felt invisible.
Every late night
felt unimportant.
Every correction
felt like delay.
But delay is not denial
when purpose guides it.
(He straightens.)
To lay the groundwork
is to believe in a future
you cannot yet show.
It is to invest
without immediate return.
It is to trust
that unseen strength
will one day be tested.
(Pause.)
There were moments of doubt.
When silence felt like stagnation.
When effort felt unrecognized.
When quitting looked practical.
But quitting does not build.
Only persistence does.
(He breathes in.)
Preparation is discipline.
It is choosing consistency
over excitement.
It is choosing depth
over speed.
It is choosing to grow
before you glow.
(Pause.)
I placed each brick carefully.
Knowledge.
Skill.
Character.
I measured twice,
cut once.
I learned from mistakes
rather than hiding them.
(He looks outward.)
Because when the storm comes—
and it always does—
only what is well-prepared survives.
(Pause.)
Success that arrives without groundwork
is a visitor.
Success built on preparation
is a home.
(He kneels again, presses his hand to the floor.)
This ground remembers
every effort.
Every doubt.
Every sacrifice.
One day,
others will stand on it
and admire what rises above.
They will call it talent.
Luck.
Overnight success.
They will not see
the groundwork.
But I will know.
(He stands, steady.)
And that is enough.
Because I am not building for applause—
I am building to last.
(Long pause.)
So let them rush.
Let them skip steps.
I will remain here—
measuring, learning, preparing.
Laying the groundwork
stone by stone,
trusting that time
rewards those
who respect it.
(Lights fade slowly.)