During a recent Q&A with engineering students, one asked, 'Ma'am, you are a software engineer—how and when did your public speaking journey begin?' I gave a brief response at the time, but reflecting on the question later, I realized my first time on stage was at the age of four, during my time in Upper Kindergarten(UKG). That moment and several other memorable experiences came flooding back, prompting me to share them in this blog.
New School
It was the mid-80s, just a year after my father passed away, and we had moved to live with my grandfather. I had recently joined a new Matriculation school in the area, while my mother worked as a clerk in a government office. At my new school, there was a fancy dress competition where children dressed up as famous personalities or people from different professions. Not all students participated, as it required extra effort from the parents to not only create the costumes but also coach their children on what to say. Given the young age of the participants, it wasn’t an easy task.
The Nurse
Despite being a single mother with a busy schedule, my mom was enthusiastic about my participation in the competition. She decided to dress me up as a nurse, cleverly using my white school uniform as the costume. She managed to get a pair of stockings at a shop near her office. She also got me a syringe and filled it with colored liquid to look like medicine, adding a realistic touch to the costume. The final touch was the nurse's cap. This was long before the internet and Amazon, where today you could easily order everything you need with a click. If it were for my daughter now, I’d probably have spent hours browsing Amazon for supplies and perfecting the look with makeup tutorials. But on the day of the event, my mom, with her resourcefulness, simply took a rickshaw to the school, making a quick stop at a fabric shop to pick up a piece of white cloth. She folded it skillfully, used a few pins, and placed the handmade cap neatly on my head.
The Speech!
For the speech, my mom had my aunt write a few lines for me. The most unbelievable part? I still remember every word of that script, even after 37 years:
"I like this profession very much.
It is a holy profession.
I am proud to be a nurse."
That was all I had to say. I don’t remember how much I practiced at home, but I vividly recall being the first to speak on stage. The hall was filled with students, parents, teachers, and dignitaries. My only prop for support was the syringe. As instructed by my mom, I pressed the syringe once before starting my speech. Unfortunately, the colored liquid shot straight at the teacher holding the microphone. She reacted quickly, jumping to avoid ruining her saree. Chaos broke out on stage and in the audience before I even uttered a word!
I finally remembered the first two words: "I like..." but then my mind went blank. I desperately looked at the dignitaries for help, unaware that they didn’t know my script. One of them tried to assist, prompting me with, "I like to be a nurse?" I repeated after them, but when I looked back for the next line, they just stared at me, as clueless as I was. How could they possibly know my next line?
After a long, awkward silence, I made a decision. I did what I liked best—I pressed the last few drops of liquid from the syringe. This time, I was careful not to cause another commotion and aimed at an empty spot. I finally finished my "speech" and stepped down from the stage.
Support
Throughout the entire ordeal, my mom was cheering for me from the audience. I was certain she would be disappointed with my performance. She had taken a "late" at work (she was allowed two per month) and made all the preparations, only for me to end up fumbling on stage. But instead, she said, "You were the first, so you were probably nervous. Next time, let us try our best." Those weren’t just words of comfort—they became a pattern. At every speech competition, she would encourage me, help with the script, and patiently listen to my practice sessions.
Evolution
Looking back, I never won a prize in any of those competitions in school, but I kept participating because my mother’s support never wavered. Little did I realize at the time, those moments on stage were not failures—they were my practice sessions, shaping me into the public speaker I am today. Each stumble, every forgotten line, was part of the journey that would eventually lead to success.
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