Tie Of Trust

With the threads tied around me, I waited patiently at home, cradling phone in trembling hands. My hands were sweaty, my heartbeat abnormally thunderous. A beep, every two minutes or so, but never the one I was yearning for. I walked back and forth, I craned my neck to see, and I cradled silent prayers in my mouth. Each second felt like an hour, and with every message I saw others getting — “I got the call!” — The pressure only grew heavier. My whole body was shivering, a mix of fear, hope, and disbelief.

I had always admired the seniors — the ones with the red ties, the ones who carried themselves with dignity, poise, and a kind of quiet power. They were the student council members — the leaders. I remember watching them walk through the corridors, thinking they were born for those roles. 

I looked up to them endlessly, wondering if I’d ever have that kind of impact. Deep down, though, I never truly believed I could be one of them. I was someone who admired from a distance — not someone who thought she'd belong.

But that began to change. Slowly, as I threw myself into my responsibilities, participated more, helped my classmates, took initiative — I started discovering a voice within me I hadn’t heard before. Confidence doesn’t arrive overnight. It builds quietly, through effort, through showing up even when it’s hard, through small moments that no one else may notice, but you feel in your heart.

And then, that call came.

"Congratulations. You've been selected as the Head Girl."

I couldn't breathe for a moment. I wasn't just happy — I was overwhelmed. Not with pride, but with a deep, soul-moving sense of responsibility. Because I knew then that a council badge isn't a badge of power — it's a pledge. A pledge to serve, to help, and to lead with integrity.

Being The Head Girl doesn’t mean I’m the most important. It means I’ve been entrusted — by my teachers, my peers, and this institution — to guide, to listen, and to stand as an example. It means helping those who feel like I once did — unsure, invisible, or not good enough — to believe in themselves. I speak to my juniors often, not just as a leader, but as someone who once stood exactly where they are. I share my journey, my doubts, and tell them: “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to care. The rest will follow.”

Every time I put on that red tie, I remember those I admired. And I hope that now, in some small way, I can be that person for someone else — someone who shows that leadership is not about standing above, but standing with others. And that sometimes, the people who least expect it are the ones who grow into it the most.

Because with great power truly comes great responsibility — and I wear that truth every day, with gratitude, purpose, and heart.

Grade:XII, Modern Indian School