<p>“You better go for that job interview,” his stern voice echoed over the phone. I simply followed his command. I scribbled through the written test, powered only by my clouded mind, and set my baby steps in journalism. He was my professor and my dissertation guide during my Masters course at Panjab University.</p>.<p>I had been in a dark, murky personal space. After having completed my Bachelors in Mass Communication, got into Masters, thanks to my decent grades, but hardly attended classes. He pulled me up and made me finish the course, somehow. Soon, I was back to vegetating on my widowed mother’s couch, binge-watching TV --making life difficult for everyone around me.</p>.<p>My teacher didn’t do much—just held my hand, gave me a gentle nudge, as I waded through muddied waters. And that was enough to set the ball rolling in the right direction.</p>.<p>His just being there helped; his emphatic gaze helped, and when I needed someone to talk to, to listen to my angst-ridden cries of despair and for hope, he was there. He didn’t sit down with me to discuss my issues. But showed me through a humanistic lens that everyone has them and has to deal with them willy-nilly. There are no silver bullets on offer.</p>.<p>He advised me on how to negotiate the chakravyuhs to avoid them and to cut my losses while I could. The rapids were strong; he taught me to stay afloat. Survival skills were what he gave me a peek into… Life lessons are not imparted in any classroom—all outside the prescribed syllabus, yet it is so vital.</p>.<p>To help me bounce back from the abysmal lows, those emotional warps...and make the most of what life throws at me in order to emerge unscathed. All in all, he became my friend, philosopher, and guide—my go-to person when I found it unsurmountable to open up to any soul.</p>.<p>My son, too, has had his share of anxious moments. He, too, had pairs of sane hands to hold him, to show him the light at the end of the tunnel, to exhort him to dig in his heels,<br />to never give up.</p>.<p>As Freddie Mercury crooned in Innuendo: “you can be anything you want to be; just turn yourself into anything you think that you could ever be; Be free with your tempo, be free…</p>.<p>To all such wonderful gurus, from many a grateful shishyas they helped, thank you!</p>
<p>“You better go for that job interview,” his stern voice echoed over the phone. I simply followed his command. I scribbled through the written test, powered only by my clouded mind, and set my baby steps in journalism. He was my professor and my dissertation guide during my Masters course at Panjab University.</p>.<p>I had been in a dark, murky personal space. After having completed my Bachelors in Mass Communication, got into Masters, thanks to my decent grades, but hardly attended classes. He pulled me up and made me finish the course, somehow. Soon, I was back to vegetating on my widowed mother’s couch, binge-watching TV --making life difficult for everyone around me.</p>.<p>My teacher didn’t do much—just held my hand, gave me a gentle nudge, as I waded through muddied waters. And that was enough to set the ball rolling in the right direction.</p>.<p>His just being there helped; his emphatic gaze helped, and when I needed someone to talk to, to listen to my angst-ridden cries of despair and for hope, he was there. He didn’t sit down with me to discuss my issues. But showed me through a humanistic lens that everyone has them and has to deal with them willy-nilly. There are no silver bullets on offer.</p>.<p>He advised me on how to negotiate the chakravyuhs to avoid them and to cut my losses while I could. The rapids were strong; he taught me to stay afloat. Survival skills were what he gave me a peek into… Life lessons are not imparted in any classroom—all outside the prescribed syllabus, yet it is so vital.</p>.<p>To help me bounce back from the abysmal lows, those emotional warps...and make the most of what life throws at me in order to emerge unscathed. All in all, he became my friend, philosopher, and guide—my go-to person when I found it unsurmountable to open up to any soul.</p>.<p>My son, too, has had his share of anxious moments. He, too, had pairs of sane hands to hold him, to show him the light at the end of the tunnel, to exhort him to dig in his heels,<br />to never give up.</p>.<p>As Freddie Mercury crooned in Innuendo: “you can be anything you want to be; just turn yourself into anything you think that you could ever be; Be free with your tempo, be free…</p>.<p>To all such wonderful gurus, from many a grateful shishyas they helped, thank you!</p>