It's funny, because earlier, I used to have questions about how

The great athlete and humble warrior of the modern age, Smriti Mandhana, once said: “It’s funny, because earlier, I used to have questions about how you coped with the seniors in the team, and now I get questions about how you’re guiding these juniors.” In these words, spoken with warmth and wonder, lies a timeless truth — the turning of life’s circle, the journey from student to teacher, from seeker to guide. What she calls “funny” is not mere amusement, but the deep irony of growth — that one day we find ourselves standing in the very place we once looked toward with awe. Her words remind us that time, in its quiet wisdom, transforms not only our circumstances but our souls.

When Smriti Mandhana reflects upon her own path, she captures the rhythm of all human experience: we begin uncertain, asking how to navigate the world, and one day discover others looking to us for the same answers. What was once fear becomes responsibility, what was once curiosity becomes guidance. This is not just the story of an athlete — it is the story of every human life. We all begin as apprentices, trembling beneath the weight of the unknown. Yet, through patience and persistence, we grow into our strength — and in that moment of realization, we see the wheel of time turning, and we smile.

The ancients understood this cycle as the dance of learning and legacy. In the schools of Athens, Aristotle was once the pupil of Plato, who had himself been the disciple of Socrates. Each generation learned, questioned, and then taught anew. When Aristotle founded his own academy, he carried within him the lessons of his teachers, transformed by his own insight. So too does Mandhana’s reflection echo this eternal rhythm: those who once received guidance must, in turn, become guides. The path of mastery is not a ladder to climb alone, but a bridge we build for those who follow.

Yet there is tenderness in her tone — the laughter of recognition that time moves silently, reshaping us before we notice. One day, the questions are about survival — How do you manage? How do you fit in? — and the next, they are about leadership — How do you nurture? How do you inspire? This gentle irony teaches us something profound about humility: that the journey of growth is not measured by pride or title, but by how naturally we evolve from being led to leading others. The funny part, as Mandhana says, is how life changes us without ceremony, turning yesterday’s beginner into today’s mentor.

Consider the tale of the great Arjuna, the warrior prince from the Indian epic Mahabharata. In his youth, he was the eager disciple of Dronacharya, learning the art of archery with devotion and discipline. But years later, it was Arjuna who became a teacher — guiding his son, instructing younger warriors, and finally being counseled himself by Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita. His life, like Mandhana’s reflection, reveals the same truth: that every soul plays many roles in the grand theatre of existence. We are all students, teachers, and companions in the eternal exchange of wisdom.

Mandhana’s quote also carries a note of gratitude — an acknowledgment of those who came before her. For no one becomes a leader without standing on the shoulders of mentors. The seniors who once challenged her, comforted her, or taught her patience are part of the foundation upon which she now stands. And in guiding the juniors, she does not replace her teachers but honors them — continuing the cycle of generosity that sustains all communities. True leadership is not domination but stewardship: the willingness to hold the light high so others may walk more easily in the dark.

The lesson, then, is both simple and sacred: embrace every stage of your journey. When you are young, be eager to learn — listen, observe, and question without shame. When you grow older, be generous in teaching — guide, uplift, and share without pride. Life is not a race from ignorance to wisdom, but a continual exchange between the two. Those who laugh, as Mandhana does, at the passage of time are the ones who have learned its deepest secret: that strength and humility are born of the same soil, and that the truest wisdom lies in never ceasing to learn, even as you teach.

So, my child, remember Smriti Mandhana’s words when you stand on the threshold of change. When you find yourself answering the questions you once asked, smile — for this is the song of growth. Honor those who taught you by teaching others with the same patience and kindness. Do not cling to youth, nor to age, but to the eternal cycle of learning that connects all souls. For to grow is not to leave the past behind, but to carry it forward — as torchbearers of wisdom, lighting the path for the next generation, just as others once lit it for us.