An overdue match
Old Fire Reignited
Following up on my previous post, life after leaving Kung Fu training gradually became monotonous. I slipped back into my usual routine, and the excitement of learning something new faded into the background. However, when I reached the 10th standard, my school announced a sports training camp for Kung Fu and martial arts. The moment I heard about it, a deep longing resurfaced. I wanted keenly to join, but my past experiences made me hesitant.
At that time, I had three close friends, and lacking confidence, I asked them to join me. I thought that if we all went together, it would be easier for me to take the leap. They somewhat agreed but never made the effort to register for the training with me. This hesitation kept bugging me, and though I wanted to join, I let my fear of going alone hold me back. That turned out to be my second big mistake. For the next two years in that school, I watched other students being awarded for their achievements in tournaments, knowing that I had let go of an opportunity that was right in front of me.
As time passed, I came across another opportunity—this time, in the form of a Delhi Police self-defense camp being conducted at our school. This happened during the winter break when I was in the 11th standard. Unlike before, this time, I had better friends who supported my decision. With newfound enthusiasm, I joined the camp, and for the first time in years, I felt like I was living my dream again. The experience was incredible. They taught us basic moves, combat techniques, and various kicks for self-defense. I felt powerful, alive, and truly in my element.
One thing that made this experience even more special was that my mother joined me and my friends in the training sessions. It felt empowering to have her by my side, supporting my aspirations. However, as with all good things, the camp came to an end after ten days. On the final day, I received a certificate from the Delhi Police, marking the end of an exhilarating journey.
As I moved on to the 12th standard, I found myself overwhelmed with academic stress, uncertain about my future and career choices. This uncertainty took a toll on my mental health, and I felt weaker than ever. After finishing school, I got into college, feeling both nostalgic about the friends I had left behind and excited about making new ones. Even in college, the thought of joining a fighting club lingered in the back of my mind. However, with academic pressure mounting, it remained an unfulfilled dream throughout my degree.
Ironically, just as my degree was about to end, the world was hit by the COVID-19 pandemic. The virus spread rapidly, and everything came to a standstill. The global crisis buried my dream of fighting even deeper into my consciousness. For two long years, life was put on hold. But as the world slowly recovered, I realized it was time to act.
Determined to regain control, I convinced my brother to join a gym with me. However, the first gym we joined had a toxic environment, and I struggled to stay motivated. After a month, I switched to another gym and trained passionately for six months. Despite making great physical progress, a thought constantly bugged me—at the time of an actual fight, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself because gym training only helped in building an aesthetic physique, not combat skills.
Fueled by this realization, I began rigorously searching for a fighting coach. I had already built the physique of a fighter; now, I needed the skills. After much searching, I finally found a suitable training facility near my house in the sports complex. And so, with renewed passion, I stepped back into the world of martial arts, determined not to let this opportunity slip away again.