Some time back, I had written about the idea of a second innings in life.
It is not easy — mentally preparing yourself, gathering courage, and training your mind to think about what you want to do next… to once again stand up and make a place for yourself in the outside world. A world you stepped away from almost two decades ago. Yes… you read that right.
People often say, “It’s all in your head.”
But when you consciously step away from that world and devote yourself completely to your family, you don’t just do that. You take on every single responsibility of the home. It is not what many people assume. It is not easy. It requires constant planning, dedication, patience, and stamina — every single day.
I have lived that life. And I have enjoyed every bit of raising my children to the very best of my ability. I lived each day with them — being part of their lives, and they being the centre of mine. When children grow up and begin to need you less, one should take pride in that. It means you have shaped them well.
But somewhere along the way, I found myself meeting people who did not really understand my life or my routines. I don’t blame them — perhaps I may not understand theirs either. Yet, slowly, I began searching for validation within my own mind… just so I would not feel less about myself.
I have worked very hard in my life. And yet, certain people made me question my value. I often wonder why I gave them so much importance. It has taken me time to understand that these are exactly the people who should never matter to me.
And then came my second innings.
When self-doubt surrounded me, my husband stood beside me like a pillar and encouraged me to start something of my own. I remember that moment so clearly — we were sitting in our living room, in one of our favourite corners, after dinner. Those post-dinner conversations had become a ritual for us. Our children had grown up a little and needed me a little less… and so we began thinking — how could I put this phase of life to the best use? Knowing my calibre… knowing how naturally I connect with people… knowing how much I enjoy networking and bringing people together… what could I build from that?
In those conversations, I rediscovered skills I had long forgotten about myself.
And that’s when we came up with an exciting idea — starting a sports events company.
Anyone who has known me since childhood knows that I am a true sports lover. I was a sprinter for many years and a passionate badminton player. Growing up, I watched cricket and lawn tennis with my father — some of my most cherished memories. My favourite sportspersons were Courtney Walsh and Pete Sampras. I had life-size posters of both of them on either side of my cupboard — my father had picked them for me. Those posters were not just decorations… they were inspiration.
So yes… starting the company excited me deeply. But at the same time, it gave me chills. After so many years, would my communication skills still be as strong? Would I be able to put in long hours again? Would I confidently speak with coaching partners and parents? Would I still have that presence and clarity?
Everything felt like a question mark.
Even deciding the name of the company was overwhelming — endless permutations and combinations… even ensuring it was numerologically right. Every step felt big. Every step felt new.
But once I began… something changed.
My questions slowly stopped being questions. Each person who made that little extra effort to make me comfortable, who respected me, who valued my suggestions — gave me strength. Sometimes the journey felt emotional… sometimes overwhelming… but always meaningful.
And now, three years later, I can say with complete conviction — it was one of the best decisions we ever made.
In my most vulnerable moments, I may not always have understood him. Emotions often took over… insecurities sometimes spoke louder than trust. For those moments, I am truly sorry.
But more than anything, I am deeply grateful.
Grateful for the man who saw strength in me when I could only see doubt.
Grateful for the man who believed in my dreams when I was still afraid to name them.
Grateful for the quiet patience, the steady reassurance, and the unwavering faith he held for me — even when I struggled to hold it for myself.
After my father, he is the one who gave me the wings to fly again. And what makes it even more special is that he never pushed me… he simply stood beside me, holding my hand, making sure I never felt alone.
Thank you for believing in me… for lifting me when I felt small… for standing by me when the world felt uncertain… and most of all, for never letting go — even in moments when I may have drifted.
This second innings may be my journey… but its strength, its courage, and its beginning… will always belong to you.
Blessmesai 