The Little Girl Who Trusted Herself

Back in those days, there was nothing called PTMs or parents coming to school for result day, at least not in my world.

My Appa worked outstation and came home only once in a few days or sometimes on weekends. My Amma had studied only till Class 2.

The only time she came with me to school was during admissions or to pay annual fees. Everything else like collecting mark sheets, results, school updates I mostly handled on my own.

I still remember one incident when I was finishing Class 5.

On result day, I went to school with few of my friends all excited to collect my mark sheet. When I saw it, I was so happy I had passed to Class 6 and had even come within the top 10 in class.

I came home proudly and showed the mark sheet to Amma. She smiled and congratulated me without really knowing the difference between subjects, marks, total or ranks.

I didn’t understand that then. But when I look back now, it makes me smile.

But while looking at the marks again, I suddenly noticed something.

There was an error in the total to the tune of 10 marks.

Immediately, I told Amma,

“I need to go back to school and get this corrected.”

Both Amma and a neighbour who was sitting chit chatting looked puzzled and said,

“But why? You’ve already passed, no?”

But somehow, even at that age, it mattered to me.

It wasn’t about just passing.

I wanted the marks to be right.

So, despite Amma grumbling about it, I went back to school and showed the marks card to my class teacher. She was visibly irritated because she was almost done for the day and ready to leave. Still, she checked it, realized the error and corrected the total.

I later understood she probably didn’t want to move her favourite student below me in rank, so she ended up giving both of us the same rank instead even though my marks were higher than hers!!!

At that age, I didn’t think much about what I had done.

It just felt natural to speak up for what felt right.

But when I look back now, I sometimes wonder what happened to that little girl who trusted herself so easily without allowing a tinge of self-doubt to even meander nearby.

Somewhere while growing up, self-doubt slowly started entering my world.

Not loudly.

Not suddenly.

Just quietly spreading into places within me where certainty once existed.

And maybe that’s what life keeps asking us to do, to reconnect with parts of ourselves we slowly drifted away from.

Have you ever looked back at your younger self and felt they were actually braver, clearer or more sure of themselves than the adult you later became?

Do we still stand up for what is right… even when it doesn’t change the outcome?