Author: admin

(Diary note, rewritten here)

23rd Sep, 2024.

Today I formally heard that I had cleared my Black Belt exam (though, from the expressions of the examiner on 19th, I had made out that I will get through 🙂

I feel elated beyond measure. This was the conclusion of 7 years of effort, or remaining committed, of hundreds of early-mornings, of thousands of punches and kicks, of endless drops of sweat (thankfully, no blood!), of fun times with new friends I’d meet in every new batch and session.

During dinner, my father asked me this question – so Anya, how do you think Karate has impacted your life ?

I knew exactly how – and was quick to answer. Karate helped me learn discipline – our coach ensured that every min of delay costed dearly in additional rounds of running & stairs as punishment – and we learn to be always 5-min before time.

It helped me develop focus. While practising fights – if we get distracted even for a second, we’re done for.

It developed my inner strength as much as my outer strength and stamina.

I gained appreciation for value of perfection. We had to learn to hold our positions like squat down to perfect form and posture. Any weakness there would mean losing to the opponent.

Karate also taught self-control and restraint. We had to learn to be able to punch or kick perfectly, but be able to hold so as to not hurt the opponent.

But, beyond everything else, it gave me self-confidence. And this is what I valued the most. It gave me a sense of security – something I would otherwise only feel with my parents. I was able to visit various places, pursue many activities – without someone to accompany me all the time – something I could never think of when I was younger and so timid.

By the third day, something had changed. The air itself felt different. The girls no longer walked to the ground hesitantly, they rushed in, eyes bright, eager to know what we would be learning next. And today the batch was full of 170 girls.

Some of them giggled as they showed me their sore arms and legs, proof of the previous day’s practice. “It hurts to sit, Didi!” one said dramatically, holding her thigh. Another chimed in, “My hands are aching too – but we still came, because we didn’t want to miss today.”

Their complaints, half real and half playful, carried a sweetness that made me smile. What had started as reluctant attendance was now turning into a commitment.

That day, beyond the kicks and blocks, we introduced something different – a conversation about the Indian Penal Code. At first, they listened in silence, heads tilted, as if the very idea of discussing “the law” felt unusual inside their school ground. But soon, questions began to rise. “What happens if…?” “What should we do when…?” The ground, usually filled with drills and laughter, now buzzed with curiosity of another kind. They were beginning to see that self-defence was not just about the body – it was also about knowledge, about rights, about understanding the law that was meant to protect them.

When the session ended, the girls began to gather their bags, still chatting among themselves. Most left quickly, but one lingered. She hesitated, then walked toward me, her expression carrying both nervousness and determination.

She began softly, almost as if confessing:

“To be honest, when I first heard about this self-defence training, I thought it was such a waste of time. This is my Class 12 year, the most important year of my school life. I only came for the first class because all my friends were coming. The whole time, I was already planning in my head how to make up for the ‘lost time’ and even thought of excuses for not coming the next day.”

She paused, and I could see the shift in her eyes, a spark, small but certain.

“But then something changed. The very first day, when I learnt how to stand tall, how to block, how to defend myself – I felt something different. By the second day, I was laughing with my friends during the drills. Between the kicks and the blocks, I actually started enjoying it. And now, after just three days, I feel so much better. I feel more confident walking home. I don’t shrink when people stare at me. What I thought was a waste of time has turned into one of the most valuable lessons of my life. For the first time, I feel strong.”

Her words lingered in the air long after she left, heavier than any punch or block we had practiced.

In that moment, I realised – this was no longer just a training program.
This was transformation.

Today was the second day of our session. A small knot of nervousness sat in my stomach. I kept wondering – would the girls return after yesterday’s class? If they showed up again, it would mean they were not only enjoying the sessions but also wanted to learn more.

The bell rang. For a moment, the ground was empty. Then, like a small spark of hope, two girls came running forward to set up the table and the mic. My heart lifted. And then, like magic, more girls began pouring in – not trickling, but streaming, their voices filling the air.

I quickly noticed something different today. Among the familiar faces were many new ones. The girls who had attended the first session had brought along their friends who had missed it yesterday. The strength increased to 150. It felt like a ripple was already spreading.

Their expressions told me everything I needed to know. There were no signs of boredom, no reluctance – only energy, curiosity, and excitement. The ground filled with the cheerful chitter-chatter of young voices, yet when it was time to line up, they moved quickly into neat rows, maintaining their distance with surprising discipline.

In that moment, I felt my nervousness dissolve. The validation I had been looking for wasn’t in words – it was in their presence, their smiles, their eagerness to be here.

Day 2 had begun, and the journey was already growing bigger than I had imagined.”

Today was a big day for me. The first time I truly felt what it means to impact the lives of others.

I reached 10 minutes before time and soon the Principal welcomed us warmly and we were escorted to the open ground where our first training session would begin. The ground was in the heart of a sprawling campus with a one storey building wrapped around it, with classrooms on both the ground and first floors. The open space stretched easily 200ft by 200ft, its neat hexagonal tiles catching the afternoon light. All around, tall trees stood like sentinels, their leaves whispering softly in the breeze. I smiled, knowing these trees would shelter our outdoor sessions from the summer sun.

The school had thoughtfully created a special slot for our training towards the end of the academic day. Still, a worry lingered in my mind – would the girls want to stay back after a long day of classes, or would they see this as just another chore before they could go home?

At exactly 3:00 pm, the sharp clang of the school bell rang out. The sound carried through the corridors, and soon,one by one, the students trickled out – first in twos and threes, then in larger groups.

Some were shy, their eyes darting curiously towards us.
Some walked with quiet determination, as if ready for anything.
Some giggled softly with friends, unsure of what was about to happen.

But in every single pair of eyes, I saw it – a spark.
The kind that comes when you begin to sense you are stronger than you’ve been told.

Within minutes, about 120 girls were standing in perfectly straight lines. A small mic and speaker system sat on a table nearby, waiting for our voices to fill the space.
The Principal joined us, her voice carrying warmly across the ground as she introduced us to the students.

I stepped forward, the mic in my hand, and looked out at the girls – young, curious, full of untapped strength. And in that moment, something shifted inside me.

This wasn’t just about teaching self-defence.
It was about shaping a generation that could walk through life unafraid.

And at the end of this first session I knew with certainty – this was only the beginning.
This was not just their first lesson. It was mine too.

Today we had a meeting with the Principal to discuss the dates for starting the self-defence training for the girls of Sharda Kanya Government Higher Secondary School.

My team and I reached the school about twenty minutes early. The sun was still high, casting long shadows of the tall gates onto the road. As we waited, my eyes wandered around the campus. What struck me instantly was how clean and well-kept everything looked, neat pathways, freshly swept corridors, classrooms with their doors wide open to welcome the light. For a moment, I caught myself thinking, Why did I expect otherwise? Mental note: never make assumptions before seeing things for yourself.

The meeting went well. The Principal spoke with a deep sense of urgency, stressing how important it was for these girls to learn self-defence. Many of them came from villages, she said, and had never been taught how to respond if they ever found themselves in unsafe situations. Her words reinforced why we were here.

After our discussions, it was decided that the sessions would begin in two days.
As we left the office, I had this strange mix of excitement and nervousness swirling inside me. Excitement because I was finally going to use my black belt training for something real, something bigger than me. Nervousness because this wasn’t just about teaching a few kicks and punches but this was about giving these girls a chance to feel safe, to feel strong.

For the last 7 years, with every drop of sweat and every move I practiced, I always whispered to myself that one day, I’ll use this to help someone. And today, sitting in the principal’s office, I felt like that “one day” was finally here.