This is my first time sharing something like this, so bear with me. Today, I want to tell you a story that’s close to my heart. It’s about a journey that, in hindsight, shaped a huge part of who I am.
When I was 13, I picked up badminton. Funny thing is, at first, I didn’t even like it. I used to think it was a sport meant for girls, and I didn’t take it seriously. But my academy had posters of legendary players on the walls — one that still stands out in my memory is Lee Chong Wei, the former World No.1. Seeing him move with such speed on the court started to change my view.
Fast forward a year, and badminton became my world. It grew so close to my heart that I hung the same poster of Lee Chong Wei in my room. Suddenly, I was driven, constantly pushing myself to improve. I looked forward to every practice session, and soon enough, I was one of the best players in my batch. That’s when one of my coaches suggested I move up to the intermediate level.
My first day in the intermediate batch is one I’ll never forget. I walked in, thinking I was on top of the world — only to be humbled instantly. The other players were faster, sharper, and more skilled. But instead of discouraging me, it fueled my desire to get better.
At that time, I’ll admit, I had a tendency to be lazy. I avoided hard work, always putting things off. But my parents taught me something essential: “There’s no reward without effort.” It’s a lesson that took time to truly sink in, but once it did, I realized that anything worth achieving has to be earned.
Despite my progress, I fell into the trap of comparison. I constantly measured myself against others, and it made me feel like I was never enough. If only I had known then that “comparison is the thief of joy.” I had already come so far, but I couldn’t see it.
That brings me to the next chapter. For those unfamiliar with the Indian education system, when you’re in the 10th grade, you take a state-level exam that determines which high school you can attend. Our mock exams were held in January, just a couple of months before the real thing. And let’s just say, I wasn’t the brightest student — my prelims score was a disappointing 54%. My parents, understandably concerned, asked me to quit badminton for three months to focus on my studies.
I didn’t take it well. I’d finally been improving, and now I had to quit. My ego made me swear I’d never pick up a racket again. But I did focus on my studies, and in the end, I scored 71% in the final exams. Looking back, I realize that while academics matter, no one really cares about my board exam scores anymore. What truly mattered was the perseverance and tools I developed during that phase.
And that’s where one of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever heard comes in: “It won’t get harder. It’s not that the dragons you’re going to face in life will get any bigger — they will — but you’ll be much better equipped to slay them.” At first, it’s like you’re fighting a bear with nothing but a stick. That feels impossible, but over time, you develop skills and gain weapons. Eventually, when you face a dragon, you’ll have a nuclear bomb. And by then, even though the challenges have grown, you’ll be ready to take them on.
After that, I stayed away from badminton for eight long years. My parents encouraged me to go back, but I stubbornly refused. It wasn’t until I moved to the U.S. for my Master’s that things came full circle. One day, I saw a group of Indian students playing badminton at the university recreational center. In an effort to make new friends, I reluctantly picked up a racket again. To my surprise, the love for the game returned just as quickly as it had left.
I joined the university badminton club, made amazing friends [you know who you are ;) ], and reignited my passion for the sport. I even represented my university in a tournament — a moment of pride for me. And not long after, I was elected the captain of the club, a role that 13-year-old me would have been ecstatic about.
The reason I’m sharing this story today is to highlight one of the most important lessons I’ve learned: everything happens for a reason. If I hadn’t quit badminton when I did, I wouldn’t have found my way back to it at the right time, when it truly fit into my life.
As the great Harivansh Rai Bachchan once wrote, “मन का हो तो अच्छा, ना हो तो और भी अच्छा” — which means, “If things happen according to your wish, that’s good. But if they don’t, that’s even better.” Because this time, badminton is here to stay.
So, to anyone feeling lost or out of control, just remember — life has a way of coming full circle. Trust the process.
Thank you for reading.