I came home from school, changed quickly, and rushed out for the self-defence training. It had been a long day – with classes, assignments, and so much left to do – but somehow the thought of my friends waiting gave me the energy to keep going.
We began with our usual warm-ups, blocks, and punches. Only now the reps had increased, and every move pushed us a little harder. It wasn’t easy. My hands ached, my legs felt heavy, but the moment we finished, there was this deep sense of fulfilment. It’s strange how exhaustion can turn into strength when you know you’re growing through it.
After training, we gathered for our awareness talk. Today we discussed good touch and bad touch – what it means, how to avoid uncomfortable situations, and most importantly, how to get out of them. The girls listened intently, their eyes wide, as if each word was quietly reshaping the way they saw the world.
Then, a girl came up to me. She was small for her age, and with a shy smile she said, “People think girls like me – short and thin – can’t really defend themselves. But today, I feel like I can.” Her words stayed with me. They reminded me that strength is not measured in height or size, but in courage and belief.
Somewhere between the drills, the talks, and these little moments, I realised that these sessions don’t feel like training anymore.