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By:

Asha Tripathi

14 April 2025 at 1:35:28 pm

Stop Comparing, Start Growing

Success does not grow in comparison; it grows in focus. Over the years, women have made significant strides in every sphere of life. From managing homes to leading organisations, from nurturing families to building successful careers, women have proved that strength and resilience are deeply rooted in their nature. Financial independence has become a significant milestone for many women today, bringing with it confidence, dignity, and the freedom to shape one’s own destiny. However, along...

Stop Comparing, Start Growing

Success does not grow in comparison; it grows in focus. Over the years, women have made significant strides in every sphere of life. From managing homes to leading organisations, from nurturing families to building successful careers, women have proved that strength and resilience are deeply rooted in their nature. Financial independence has become a significant milestone for many women today, bringing with it confidence, dignity, and the freedom to shape one’s own destiny. However, along with growth has come another silent challenge — the tendency to constantly observe, compare, and sometimes even compete with the journeys of others. But a crucial question arises: Is it necessary to track the growth of others in order to grow ourselves? From my personal experience of more than two decades as an entrepreneur, I have realised something very powerful — true growth begins the moment we stop looking sideways and start looking within. A Small Beginning I had a flourishing career of teaching abroad, but when I restarted my career after moving back to India, my beginning was extremely small. My very first assignment was a simple home tuition for a single student, and the amount I earned was meagre. There was nothing glamorous about it. No recognition, no large batches, no big earnings. Just one student and one opportunity. But instead of worrying about how others were doing, how many students they had, or how much they were earning, I made a conscious decision—my only focus would be on improving myself. I focused on teaching better, preparing better, and becoming more disciplined and consistent. And slowly, without even realising it, things began to grow. One student became two, two became a small group, and gradually, over the years, the work expanded beyond what I had initially imagined. Looking back today, I can confidently say that the growth did not happen because I competed with others. It happened because I competed with myself yesterday. Comparison Creates Noise When we keep watching others' journeys too closely, we unknowingly divert our own energy. Comparison creates unnecessary noise in our minds. It brings doubts, insecurities, and sometimes even negativity. Instead of walking our own path with clarity, we start questioning our speed, our direction, and our worth. True success grows through focus, not comparison. Every woman has her own story, her own pace, and her own struggles that others may never see. The path of one person can never be identical to another's. So comparing journeys is like comparing two different rivers flowing towards the same ocean — each with its own route, its own curves, and its own rhythm. As women, we already carry many responsibilities. We balance emotions, relationships, work, and society's expectations. In such a life, the last thing we need is the burden of comparison with one another. Instead, what we truly need is support for each other. When women encourage women, something extraordinary happens. Confidence grows. Opportunities multiply. Strength becomes collective rather than individual. There is enough space in the world for every woman to create her own identity. Each of us can build our own niche without stepping on someone else's path. Choose Encouragement Envy weakens us, but encouragement empowers us. Rather than questioning how someone else is progressing, we can ask a more meaningful question: "How can I grow a little better than I was yesterday?" Lift As You Rise Today, after twenty years of experience, the most valuable lesson I have learned is simple yet profound — focus on your own work with honesty and dedication, and success will quietly follow you. We, women, are capable, resilient, and creative. We do not need to pull each other down or compete in unhealthy ways. Instead, we can lift each other up while building our own dreams. Because when one woman rises, she does not rise alone. She inspires many others to believe that they can rise, too. And perhaps that is the most beautiful form of success. (The writer is a tutor based in Thane. Views personal.)

Ekta Bhyan, Quiet Gold

The strongest lessons in life rarely arrive with drumbeats. They come quietly, sit beside us, and stay long after the applause fades. I learnt this at the recent Peakst8 Festival in the world-class Padukone-Dravid Centre for Sports Excellence Bengaluru. The venue was full of ambition, energy, loud confidence and polished success stories. Yet, it was gold-winning para-athlete Ekta Bhyan who held my attention, not by raising her voice, but by lowering the noise around her.


She was an integral part of a panel discussing what it takes to reach the Olympics. Others spoke of pressure, fame and sacrifice. Ekta spoke of routine. Of turning up. Of patience. There were no heroic flourishes in her words. Each sentence was measured, calm and grounded. Listening to her, I sensed a deep reserve of experience. She was not trying to impress. She was simply explaining how life had unfolded.


A spinal injury, in 2003, had left her paralysed. This is usually where stories pause for sympathy. Ekta’s does not. She spoke of rebuilding, not rebelling. Of learning what the body could still do, and then working patiently within those limits. Para sport entered her life quietly, not as rescue, but as direction. Over time, she found her space in the F51 club throw, a demanding discipline where balance, precision and control matter more than force.


What stayed with me was her restraint. She mentioned podium finishes only in passing. International meets, Asian Para Games, world championships, all appeared briefly and then moved aside. Even the gold medal she had earned was referred to almost casually, as one would mention a milestone on a long road. For her, medals are not destinations. They are confirmations.


Steely Discipline

Ekta spoke about training. It is not exciting, she said. It repeats itself. Progress hides. Muscles resist. The mind looks for shortcuts. Yet commitment must remain steady. She described days when success meant completing a session without excuses. On some mornings, it was finishing gym work despite fatigue. Evenings meant outdoor practice, carefully timed because regulating body temperature is a constant challenge after spinal injury.


For nearly three years, she has not missed a single day of training. With limited muscle use and only about forty per cent lung capacity, each session needs careful planning. Her shoulders are her strongest allies. Other muscles cooperate less. Fingers offer no strength at all. Still, she works with what she has. Over the last four years, this discipline has translated into results. Gold medals at national championships. A bronze at the Asian Para Games. Gold and bronze at the World Championships in Paris in 2023. This season alone, she added gold at the Indian Open Paralympic Championships and a silver soon after. Her personal best stands at 21.5 metres, and she speaks of improving it, not defending it.


There was a gentler revelation too. As a young girl, Ekta had once dreamt of becoming a doctor. She wanted to heal. Life rewrote the syllabus. Yet, listening to her, I realised she still heals. Not with medicine, but with example. Her journey treats assumptions and restores belief, quietly and effectively.


Human Moment

After the session, when the crowd thinned, I walked up to her with my notebook. I asked for her autograph, expecting a quick signature. She paused, asked my name, and wrote hers carefully. That small act reflected everything she had spoken about. Presence. Respect. Attention.


Her daily life, she earlier shared, is not simple. She needs two people to help with routine movements, from transferring to travel. Public transport is impossible. Every trip requires planning, space and expense. Often, she bears the cost for three people, not one. Yet, she spoke of this without complaint.


The harder challenge, she said, is mindset. People with disabilities are still seen as separate from the mainstream. Expectations are lowered, often disguised as kindness. Ekta resists this quietly. Her competition is internal. Yesterday versus today. Comfort versus effort. Paralysis, she believes, is a condition, not an identity.


As I left the venue, the applause felt inadequate. Not because it was soft, but because her journey asks for reflection, not noise. Ekta Bhyan reminds us that ambition can change shape without losing meaning. That success does not always announce itself. Sometimes, it arrives quietly, balanced and consistent.


Her strength lies not only in the distance she throws, but in the steadiness she maintains. And in that quiet balance, Ekta Bhyan offers us something rare. A lesson that stays long after the hall has emptied.


 (The writer is a retired banker and author of ‘Money Does Matter.’)

 


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