What Drives Me in This Fellowship?

“Don’t lose the child within you.”

It’s a phrase I’ve heard more times than I can count. You’ll find it in motivational speeches, in sentimental Instagram captions, on fridge magnets, and even the occasional WhatsApp forward from an old friend. But for the longest time, I didn’t get it.

Why should I hold on to the child within me?
What does it even mean to be a child when you’re expected to “grow up,” “act your age,” and “be responsible”?

Then, the fellowship happened.
This beautiful rollercoaster of a journey, working in some of the remotest government schools, interacting with hundreds—no, thousands—of children, changed something in me. Or maybe, it brought back something I had lost. Every day with them, every session, every small conversation or shared laugh, felt like therapy. Their world became a mirror, reflecting a version of me I had forgotten—a curious, fearless, and endlessly joyful version. And somewhere along the way, I finally understood what that quote really meant.

The Original Life Gurus..

Some kids taught me to stay calm no matter what—the ones who’d lose a pencil, get scolded, and bounce back in two minutes as if nothing had happened. I’d look at them and wonder, Where did they learn this resilience?

Some reminded me to live in the moment. To find joy in a skipping game, a silly drawing, or just a perfectly ripe mango during lunchtime.

Others brought back the joy of asking questions. Questions that grown-ups might roll their eyes at, but are really profound in their own way—
“Akka, why is the sky not pink?”
“Why don’t trees get bored standing in the same place?”

They made me question things again. Not in a cynical way, but with wonder.

Some of them showed me what it means to be truly unique. Every child had their own rhythm, their own spark. One may be a shy poet in the making, while another could talk your ears off and still have more to say. I stopped comparing. I started appreciating.

And then, there were those who didn’t need to say much at all—just a warm smile that could light up your entire week. They reminded me that sometimes, you don’t need the perfect words. Just a little kindness will do.

So, What Drives Me?

It’s not just the fellowship project, the workshops, trainings, or the fancy goals of “impact” and “change-making.” Those are there, yes. But they’re not the soul of it. What truly drives me is this:

Every single day, these children help me reconnect with a part of myself I thought was lost forever.

The part that believed in magic.
The part that saw failure as just a funny story to laugh about later.
The part that didn’t worry about how I looked or whether my English sounded “good enough.”
The part that wasn’t scared to try something new, dance without rhythm, sing off-key, and still have fun.

They don’t even know they’re doing it. They just are. And that’s the beauty of it.

This fellowship isn’t just a professional milestone. It’s a personal revival. It’s the place where I’m not just teaching English or digital skills—I’m also learning how to be again.

When Did We Stop Being Kids?

There were moments when I’d catch myself thinking—What happened to me?
When did I stop being excited about the little things?
When did I start hiding my emotions in the name of being “mature”?
When did I last ask a question just because I was curious and not because I needed to sound smart?

Maybe it was school, or society, or just the speed of life that made us all build these “grown-up” masks. But under all those layers, the child never really leaves.

These kids? They peel those layers off—one laugh, one question, one moment at a time.

So… Am I Still a Child, Harini?

“Inum kuzhanthaiyave irukiya, Harini?” someone asked me recently.
Yes, I am. And proudly so.
“So what?” I replied with a grin. “Irunthuttu poren.”

Because if holding onto wonder, playfulness, joy, and curiosity is childish—then sign me up for eternal childhood.

If choosing to see the good in people, finding excitement in small victories, and laughing till your stomach hurts is “immature,” then I’d rather be immature than jaded.

Let go of the pressure to always have the answers.
Ask weird questions. Make art that makes no sense.
Sit with a child and let them teach you something.
Smile at strangers. Jump in puddles. Be silly.

Not because it makes you less of an adult, but because it makes you more you.

This fellowship gave me so many things—skills, exposure, experience. But the best gift of all?
It gave me back me. The old me. The younger me. The better me.

And that, my friend, is what drives me. Every single day.