Swathi Writes Back!

"Sometimes, it’s the smallest tasks that make us feel the most trusted." I walked into the university that day with my bag packed—not just with books and notes, but with hope, doubts, and a quiet determination. All my UGC NET materials, every handwritten line from long nights of studying, were tucked in neatly. I had decided to start again, to look at everything with a fresh set of eyes—no pressure, just purpose. Though I had written the exam fairly well, a soft cloud of uncertainty followed me. Will I clear it? Will I fall short? That question kept echoing. I stood outside the room for a few minutes, waiting, heart thudding a little louder than usual. When Nivetha came, we walked in together and settled into our usual places. A few moments later, my guide walked in—calm, observant as always. He looked at me and simply asked, “How did it go?” I gave a small, unsure smile and said, “It was okay, sir.” He nodded, almost as if he had already known. Then he said something...

I reached home that evening, heavy with silence. The usual chatter in my voice had vanished, replaced by a dull ache. I sat on the floor near the kitchen where Amma was making dosa, the scent familiar, yet oddly distant. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I poured my heart out, every detail, every second of confusion, every flicker of panic inside that exam hall. She listened. Patiently. Carefully. Like only a mother could. Then, with her softest smile, she said, “Nothing ever goes in vain, papa. Even the broken days teach you how to stand taller the next time.” That was all I needed. Not solutions. Not miracles. Just those warm, motherly words to soothe the storm inside me. Appa sat nearby, nodding. “You did your part. That’s what matters. Let the rest unfold,” he said in his calm, steady voice. For the first time that day, I smiled. Not because the pain was gone, but because it was shared. The next morning, I returned to the university. Same route, same breeze, same trees along the...

The world was still half-asleep when I opened my eyes at 4:00 AM. A silence surrounded me, not the scary kind, but one that made me feel the weight of the day ahead. I packed my bag gently, as if not to wake the dreams that still lingered in the room. Hall ticket. Aadhar card. Pens. Notes. A few sets of question papers I had solved before. Everything carefully arranged like soldiers before a war. Amma handed me a cup of tea. She didn’t say much, she didn’t need to. Her silence carried more blessings than words ever could. I closed my eyes for a moment and prayed, not for marks, not for passing, but just for the strength to remember what I had worked so hard to learn. Just that. Nothing more. Appa stood ready near the gate, like always. He’s not a man of big speeches either, but I saw it in his eyes, the faith he had in me. We stepped out into the chill of the early morning, and as we left home, Amma’s voice followed us with a simple “All the best.” That alone echoed louder than any cro...