"Sometimes, the greatest journeys we take aren't across worlds, but into our own hearts. And sometimes, the person we need most is the one we used to be."
In the new chapter, 25-year-old Shweta decided to start working because she wanted to earn money. She was trying to tell 10-year-old Shweta about her plan, but before she could speak, 10-year-old Shweta appeared and grabbed her hand, pulling her along.
As they walked side by side, 25-year-old Shweta took a deep breath and said,
"Shweta, I want to tell you something."
Before she could continue, 10-year-old Shweta quickly interrupted,
"Yes! Actually, I have something to say too. It's a request."
Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, a mix of hesitation and urgency.
25-year-old Shweta said, surprised, "Are you serious? Me, like a parent? You're still just a kid. Anyway, we'll meet after your school ends. I have to go now."
But 10-year-old Shweta replied sadly, "Did your mom and dad ever come to your parents' meetings? Do you remember?"
We see a flashback: Shweta's parents working hard, trying to earn money for their two daughters. Because of their busy schedules and exhaustion, they often missed school meetings. But Shweta never complained—she just wanted them to get some rest.
Back in the present, 25-year-old Shweta remembered her childhood. She recalled how she used to tell her teachers, "My mother wasn't feeling well today, so she couldn't come."
Cut to the classroom during a parents' meeting. The teacher was talking about the students' progress and studies.
The teacher's voice echoed in Shweta's mind: she always underestimated Shweta because she was an average student and often the noisiest in class. The teacher even said Shweta would never do anything significant in life.
Sitting quietly, 25-year-old Shweta listened carefully, feeling the weight of those words.
After the parents' meeting ended with every parent called, the teacher smiled and said,
"And next is my dear Shweta."
She looked at 10-year-old Shweta and said teasingly,
"As I know, your mom is definitely not well—or maybe someone passed away—or some other silly excuse—and that's why you have to send an email saying your parents can't come."
Suddenly, 10-year-old Shweta spoke up with unexpected confidence,
"But ma'am, today I brought my sister."
The teacher was taken aback. Shweta had never brought anyone to a parents' meeting before.
The teacher's eyes widened as she stared at both Shwetas, trying to process the scene.
Then, 10-year-old Shweta leaned in and whispered to 25-year-old Shweta,
"Just be calm. You know how she is."
25-year-old Shweta gave a calm, knowing smile and said,
"Of course, I know her very well."
She stepped forward boldly, her confidence radiating.
It was like a heroine's grand, rockstar entrance.
10-year-old Shweta watched with wide eyes, surprised and in awe.
Then, 25-year-old Shweta said calmly,
"Yes ma'am, please tell me."
The teacher looked at her with a mix of surprise and relief.
"Finally, someone came from Shweta's family," she said, glancing at 10-year-old Shweta, who just smiled shyly.
The teacher picked up a file and said,
"See, this is her test result. 10 out of 100 in Science, 20 out of 100 in History, and only 10 out of 100 in Mathematics. So, now you tell me—what can we do for her to make her an average student? Because right now, she's below average."
We see here that 10-year-old Shweta had always struggled with studies.
25-year-old Shweta looked at the mark sheet for a moment, her expression softening as she glanced at 10-year-old Shweta with understanding.
Suddenly, the teacher chuckled and said,
"She's the dumbest student in my class! Always making noise, always bunking my lectures. Every time I look for her, she's wandering somewhere else in the school, exploring like she owns the place. She's been here since kindergarten, but still, she's always out there—like this is her playground."
Hearing this, 10-year-old Shweta's face fell a little, embarrassed, while 25-year-old Shweta's expression turned thoughtful, a small smile playing at her lips.
In that moment, she silently promised her younger self: This time, you won't have to face this alone.
The teacher was continuously talking about Shweta—about her bad marks, her mischief in class, how she was always roaming around instead of studying.
25-year-old Shweta's expression turned serious as she listened. She clenched her fists, her eyes narrowing. Finally, unable to bear the teacher's words any longer, she said loudly,
"Ma'am!"
10-year-old Shweta immediately turned to her, her eyes wide, and moved her head slightly—silently saying, "No, be calm."
Seeing her younger self's worried face, 25-year-old Shweta took a deep breath. She understood that 10-year-old Shweta didn't want to make a scene or get into trouble. So, she softened her voice and said politely but firmly,
"Ma'am, can I say something?"
The classroom fell silent for a moment. The teacher looked at her, surprised, waiting for what she would say.
The teacher nodded her head slightly and said,
"Yes, please go ahead."
25-year-old Shweta took a deep breath, her voice calm but clear.
"Ma'am, I understand that as a teacher, you want every student in your class to be smart in every subject. But Shweta… she's one of those students who may not be smart in everything, but she has her own strengths. Please, take a look at her literature marks—90 out of 100—and her drawing—100 out of 100.
She's not bunking your class, ma'am. She's hiding from you because she knows that if you see her, you'll shout at her. And yes, if a teacher scolds a student, it's not always bad… but imagine—thousands of students hear it too. They feel embarrassed, and it breaks them from the inside.
It's not that they don't want to study, ma'am. They want to study, but they want a mentor who understands them.
I'm not a teacher, but I'm sure you were a student once too. Maybe sometimes, we students can't understand what the teacher wants to say. But I know you can understand what a student feels.
Yes, I agree—your top three students are also from the same class, the same batch. But ma'am, you always know they'll be the top three. You never think about the other seven, or the extras in your class.
I understand it's difficult to pay attention to every single student. You're not their parent—you're their teacher. Teaching is your job, and you're doing it. But please, don't judge them. Don't make those 'dumb' students feel embarrassed in front of the whole class. It hurts them deeply.
As a teacher, ma'am, please try to make them good souls and good people—rich with their hearts—not just toppers who'll forget how to live and spend their whole lives running after success.
Trust me, one day Shweta will prove you wrong. She's not dumb. She's smart enough to live her dreams."
After hearing this, the teacher was stunned, speechless in her chair.
25-year-old Shweta calmly picked up the mark sheets and gently held 10-year-old Shweta's hand. Together, they walked out of the classroom, leaving the teacher sitting there, lost in thought.
10-year-old Shweta kept looking up at her older self with wide, amazed eyes.
Noticing the look, 25-year-old Shweta smiled softly and asked,
"What? Why are you staring at me like that?"
10-year-old Shweta clapped her hands with excitement and said,
"You're actually me! I always wanted to say all that to her… and you said it."
25-year-old Shweta let out a small, satisfied smile and replied,
"Me too."
After that, 25-year-old Shweta looked straight ahead, her gaze falling across the road. She noticed a small café on the opposite side, with a "Vacancy" sign hanging on its door.
Curious and determined, she took 10-year-old Shweta's hand and crossed the road.
They stepped inside the cozy café and asked the owner if there was a job available. After a brief conversation, 25-year-old Shweta was hired on the spot.
As they walked out of the café, 10-year-old Shweta looked up at her and asked,
"Why did you want this job?"
25-year-old Shweta gave her a small, thoughtful smile and said,
"I don't know how long I'll be here in your world. But if I'm going to survive, I need to earn something."
10-year-old Shweta nodded understandingly.
"That's okay. You can work in that café, and I'll be in school. My school is right in front of it, so we'll see each other every day."
Both of them smiled at each other, a quiet understanding passing between them.
And with that, the day ended, leaving them with a little more hope for tomorrow.