I had always known. Ever since seventh grade, when I first stood in that debate room with trembling hands and a voice that barely rose above a whisper, I knew that Behes was more than just a debating platform—it was home.
It shaped me, broke me, rebuilt me. It turned my scattered thoughts into solid arguments, and those arguments into something that could shift perspectives. Giving back to this space was never a question; it was a promise I made to myself.
So, on the morning of July 19, 2022—just two days after MahaBehes 2022 ended—I sat down with my. Best friend Shradha, still buzzing with post-tournament adrenaline, and drafted an email. It was clumsy, unpolished, and overflowing with excitement. We poured our hearts into those words, telling the Behes Team what this community meant to us and how honored we would be to contribute. We hit send, hopeful—but uncertain.
And then, four hours later, it happened. An email. A Zoom invite. A moment that stretched into eternity. We joined the call, unsure of what to expect, only to hear Mr. Salil say the words we hadn’t even dared to dream: “You’re in.”
I completely lost it.
What I didn’t know then was that this wasn’t the destination. It was the beginning—of the wildest, most transformative journey of my life.
By that very evening, Shradha and I were added to the Behes Core Team group chat—the real witch’s dungeon—where the magic of this debating empire truly brewed. It felt like stepping across an invisible line, one I had always seen but never imagined crossing. The Core Team had always been the enigma, the heartbeat of Behes. Everyone wanted to be them. And now, somehow, I was.
Reality hit fast. Within a month, we were handed our first major responsibility: conducting a debate training workshop at PP International School, Pitampura. Two kids, barely out of school, suddenly tasked with shaping the next batch of young debaters. It was exhilarating. Terrifying. I wasn’t a seasoned trainer—just someone who loved debating and believed in the magic of this platform. But I poured myself into that workshop, hoping that belief would be enough.
And maybe—just maybe—it was. The tournament that followed, hosted by the same school, turned out to be the perfect launch to the Behes 2022–23 season, one that only grew wilder, busier, and more beautiful with each passing month.
If I had to freeze a moment in time, to hold it like a pressed flower in the pages of my memory, it would be that first month. That month when I learned the ropes of outreach—not through theory, but through action, through a mix of encouragement and challenge that pushed me to grow every single day.
When we joined, Shradha and I carried just one hope: that if we could change even two lives—two kids who were just like us—it would all be worth it. And so, with every tournament we helped run, with every 150 eager debaters who walked through those school gates, with every workshop of 30 or 40 students across Delhi-NCR, we poured that hope into the world.
But what truly made it special was this: no one at Behes ever treated us like kids. They didn’t see us as just students with big dreams—they saw us as professionals. As problem-solvers. As people capable of negotiating, persuading, and building lasting relationships with some of the top schools in the country.
And that meant everything.
Looking back, I realize Behes was never just an opportunity—it was a homecoming. A space that had once shaped me into a thinker, a challenger, a dreamer—was now giving me the chance to do the same for others. The late-night calls, the packed weekends, the nervous energy before every workshop, the joy of watching a student light up in a debate round—it was all worth it.
We began with a simple wish: to change even two lives. Somewhere along the way, I lost count.
Because Behes was never just about debating. It was about belonging. And in giving back to the community that once gave me everything, I somehow found myself all over again.