The Winning Speech

 It has been seventy-seven days.

And today is when I share with you.

What was going on in my head

on the nineteenth of January, two thousand twenty-six? 

I've always loved winning speeches across disciplines—post-cricket matches, coronations, awards, night show awards, and similar events. I wondered how people come up with the winning speech when they make it to big spaces. I mean, how do you choose what to talk about when you make it to the place you have always dreamt of, or say incidentally end up being at? In what ways do people show up for other people, so that at the moment (when they win, ik wins are subjective) they’re supposed to shine—they choose to talk about someone else, something else? Are they available twenty-four-seven for the person? How does that work?

The Backstory

The cycle of moments, when you laugh at the place you've cried. I have a love-hate relationship with the place. I've lost versions of myself that I no longer associate with, and the new one is writing this. I've pleaded for love and have been showered with love; that's the love of the place.

The place I mentioned happens to be my bachelor's university (Dev Sanskriti Vishwavidyalaya, Haridwar). Leaving it for later on how I ended up there—but keep in mind, I was the Covid-19 batch. The real thing was—throughout my three years of college, all I did was hope. Hoped for things to get better—that the world will survive—and hoped that people I love do not die.

On the first day of offline classes after a year of online classes, I, along with my classmates, met the pro-VC of the university. He suggested, “Imagine today as your last day of college and think of things you want when all this is over. Now that you've imagined it, work on it throughout.” I did not know the answer to it immediately, nor do I know that now. But the question made me return to working and choosing actions consciously every time I would derail. I took it literally, metaphorically, and suggestively. I remember scoring highest in the class for two semesters, and I loved the feeling. So the only goal of working every day was to feel it once a semester—the feeling of acing it academically.

Back to the backstory—this university conducts the convocation every three years. So, although I was a twenty twenty-three passout, I received the degree in twenty twenty-six. 

What Happened?

I started posting here so that I feel a little obligated to write about life and everything around—I swear I had never imagined writing about something so precious.

Cut to D-Day—I was walking the stage to receive two gold medals.

If I say I did not expect it to happen, I would be lying. 

And then I even cried a little—when I was finally next to my mother—passing the medal to her. I resisted words, but one thing I will be forever grateful for is how she made me dream and instilled the courage. With all these conversations in my head, I was unable to speak, so I cried. 

How?

The right people at the right time will do wonders for you. Some moments out of thousands that did it for me were when I was offered food and my dishes were cleaned out of pure love by a friend, while I was attending virtual meetings. I was visited by my sister on weekends, even though all of us know how much people in corporate love the weekends. One of my oldest friends, who happened to live nearby, made sure to deliver my books, driving fifteen kilometers; helped me explore local good parts about the place—on the only holiday I used to have. These things were and will always be equally important to the efforts I poured in—from finding the right place to journal or to practice yoga on holidays, or using every coping mechanism I knew to survive. 

I get it now—why they call the journey more beautiful than the destination. While walking across that stage, which honored me, I didn't feel like something impossible had happened. It was like I knew it'd happen. It was like after giving my best every day—this was my reward, which no one promised but had showed up. I almost soaked in what would happen three years later at my convocation during the process.

You might have come across the phrase—

"It takes a village to raise a child."

Maybe think of me whenever you read that now.

For I was the kid raised by a village.

And this kid remembers the villagers wholeheartedly. 

The Only Gold I Have

Gold rates were soaring high in January, and I paused to wonder about my possessions. By the end of January, the nineteenth of January to be precise, I had two of the kinds. Two gold medals.

University Gold Medalist. Gold Medalist.

I grew up watching DD National. Those of you who have been a DD audience know how other programs were often interrupted due to some events' live telecast. I remember wondering, where do these events happen? Do they make it to the TV? And more thoughts. 

Well, this gold ensured my appearance on the OG DD National. It was a teeny tiny moment where my clip of being awarded the gold medal was played as a part of the documentary for my college. 

This piece, that you are reading, is the one for me, my winning speech, for making it to a podium I never imagined myself being at. My winning speech—and thank you for being a part of it. Yeah, yeah, you must be wondering why you—since you did nothing for it—but it is for becoming a part of this space. And the fact that you chose to read my little piece.

Oh, and about how you choose what to include in the D-Day speech—I know now. When you have lived every day of the journey, it’ll be pretty easy. You’ll just know, trust me. Or else how did I just come up with this thousand-word piece?

September 2021 (freshly out of quarantine duration)

Pro VC of DSVV, center (the same person, yea yea)

Recreated the photo from September 2021 in January 2026

Aapki Baat @DD National

Until next win,

Ashita. :)