The boys, they are laughing: 'Oh, you are boxing. Very funny.'

In the dawn of her destiny, Mary Kom uttered words forged from both fire and faith: “The boys, they are laughing: ‘Oh, you are boxing. Very funny.’ But I always challenge when people are laughing—‘I’ll show you one day.’ After getting five times world champion, they are all quiet. And they respect me.” These words are not mere memories; they are a hymn to perseverance, a testament to the indomitable spirit that rises even when the world sneers. In them, we hear the echo of every soul who dared to defy the laughter of disbelief, who turned mockery into music and doubt into thunder.

In her youth, Mary Kom was not born amidst privilege or glory. She came from the soil of Manipur, from fields where labor was long and recognition was rare. Yet within her, there burned the ancient spark—the warrior’s resolve that knows no gender, no boundary, no limit. When the boys laughed, they saw only a girl with fragile hands; but those hands would one day carve history itself. Their laughter was the sound of ignorance; her silence, the patience of the storm preparing to break. This is the ancient truth: the world mocks what it does not yet understand. And the wise do not answer with words—they answer with victory.

From her defiance was born the sacred vow: “I’ll show you one day.” These words are not anger; they are prophecy. For those who walk the path of greatness must learn to carry solitude as armor. They must build strength not from applause, but from rejection. Like the blacksmith at his forge, Mary Kom took every spark of mockery and hammered it into the steel of determination. Each laugh became a nail in the temple of her endurance. And when she rose, crowned five times World Champion, the laughter that once filled the air turned to reverent silence—the silence that only truth can command.

So it has always been. When Joan of Arc lifted her banner, the soldiers scoffed at the peasant girl who claimed divine purpose. Yet she led armies to victory and became the symbol of her nation. When Galileo whispered that the earth moved around the sun, they called him mad—but time itself proved him right. And when Mary Kom wrapped her fists and entered the ring, she too joined that eternal company of souls who endured laughter on their way to greatness. For mockery is the world’s way of testing the brave. Only those who continue forward, heart unbroken, earn the right to be remembered.

The silence of respect that followed her triumph was not just for her medals—it was for her courage. In that silence lives a greater victory than gold: the transformation of disbelief into belief. Those who once said “you cannot” now whisper “how did you?” This is the highest form of triumph—not merely to win, but to change the hearts of those who doubted you. Respect born from victory is not prideful; it is the world’s quiet acknowledgment of the truth it once refused to see.

Let the listeners remember this: when people laugh at your dreams, it is the sign that your dream is larger than their vision. Do not let their laughter define your limits. Let it sharpen you. Let it feed the fire within. Do not answer their mockery with anger, but with relentless effort. Every sunrise, every drop of sweat, every moment you choose not to give up, is your reply to the world. For one day, when the laughter fades and your deeds stand tall, those same voices will bow in respect.

And so, children of tomorrow, take this lesson to heart: Challenge the laughter. When they say you cannot, smile and whisper as Mary Kom did—“I’ll show you one day.” Do not waste your spirit in defending what they do not yet understand. Build, train, endure, and rise. Let your success be the thunder that answers their scorn. For respect is not demanded—it is earned in silence, through patience, through battle, through the unwavering courage to become. And when the world finally grows quiet before you, may your heart remain humble, and your strength serve as light for those still mocked in the dark.