Lessons that Shape Us

I often say that life does not hand us a roadmap. It unfolds like a winding path—sometimes steep, sometimes smooth, sometimes filled with rocks that make us stumble, and sometimes lined with flowers that remind us of beauty even in struggle. My journey as a woman, a teacher, and above all, a human being has been one such path. I was not born into privilege, nor did I inherit ready-made opportunities. I began from what people often call “zero ground”—a girl with dreams bigger than the circumstances she lived in. And yet, here I am, standing at a point in life where my name has been honored with awards like the Bharat Gaurav Ratna Samman, the Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan Best Teacher Award, and an Honorary Doctorate. These are not just medals or certificates; they are the markers of resilience, love, learning, and an unshakable belief that education is the most powerful lantern one can hold.

Looking back, I realize that the phrase “When the student is ready, the master appears” has defined every chapter of my life. From my earliest days to the woman I am today, mentors, friends, colleagues, and even students have appeared as guiding lights when I needed them the most. And perhaps that is the greatest miracle of my story—every setback brought me someone, some moment, or some realization that became the stepping stone to my next rise.

I was born into a modest family in Rajasthan. Life at home was simple, sometimes hard, but always full of values. My father has always been my eternal source of strength, my role model, and my unspoken mentor. He is a man of integrity and quiet dignity, who taught me that true education lies in character, not in mere certificates. My mother, in her silence and sacrifices, embodied resilience. From them, I learned early on that life may not always be fair, but it is always worth living with courage.

Like many girls in India, my early years were framed by expectations—society often whispered what a girl should or should not do. But somewhere deep inside, I knew I was not meant to fit into a mold. Books became my escape, my rebellion, and my vision. Literature, in particular, spoke to me. It gave me voices that resonated with my own thoughts—voices of women who dared, men who sacrificed, and dreamers who believed. And slowly, my identity as a student of literature shaped itself into something larger: the dream of becoming a teacher.

Teaching was not just a profession I chose; it was the calling that chose me. Standing in a classroom, facing eager or sometimes indifferent faces, I discovered myself. I learned that teaching is not about dictating lessons—it is about lighting a spark. A teacher does not just deliver knowledge; she breathes life into curiosity, she touches souls, and she leaves an imprint that echoes long after the lesson is over.

My classrooms became my world. I experimented with methods, brought stories alive, and used creativity to reach even those students who thought English was not their subject. I refused to let education be mechanical; I wanted it to be experiential, joyful, and transformative. And somewhere along the way, my students began to see me not just as a teacher, but as a mentor and sometimes even as a friend. That bond has been my richest reward.

Of course, my journey was not free of struggles. Being a woman, especially in traditional setups, is often a balancing act between family, duties, and dreams. My marriage, my role as a daughter-in-law, and later as a mother—all came with responsibilities that sometimes clashed with my ambitions. There were moments when I felt invisible, moments when my achievements were dismissed, and moments when I had to swallow my tears to keep moving forward.

One of the most defining incidents was when I was to receive an Honorary Doctorate. It was a milestone—something that validated years of work, sleepless nights, and dedication to teaching. But when the moment came, my husband couldn't accompany me due to his prior engagements and commitment s. I could have gone alone, but my heart was heavy. For me, awards were never about self-glorification; they were about shared pride. And so, I let that moment pass. The award was later posted to my address, a silent reminder that sometimes triumphs come with solitude. That day, I learned that recognition means little if it cannot be celebrated with those you love.

But destiny always balances its lessons. When I was to receive the Bharat Gaurav Ratna Samman, I again faced hesitation. This time, it was my father who stepped in. I had almost convinced myself not to go, to let this moment slip by like the doctorate. But my father—my eternal motivator—looked at me and said, “You cannot let this opportunity pass. I will come with you.” And he did. Standing beside him on that stage, holding the award, I felt not just proud, but complete. It was not just my victory; it was his too. The little girl who once clung to his hand as he guided her through life was now holding his hand on stage, guided by his belief in her. That day remains etched as the best moment of my life.

If my father gave me roots, my mentors and friends gave me wings. Along this journey, I met people who shaped me in ways I could never have imagined. Mentors who guided me when I faltered, who reminded me of my worth when I doubted myself, and who pushed me to dream bigger. Friends who stood by me, celebrated my small victories, wiped my tears during failures, and reminded me that I was never alone.

Their contribution is immeasurable. In fact, much of what I have achieved today stands on the foundation they helped me build. They have been my mirrors, my sounding boards, and sometimes my anchors when storms threatened to uproot me. It is true—masters, mentors, and guides appear when the student is ready. And I am grateful for every single one who appeared at just the right time.

From classroom experiments to national and international recognition, the journey feels surreal at times. Being honoured with awards such as the Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan Award, the Top 30 Inspiring Women 2025, my Honorary Doctorate, and the prestigious Bharat Gaurav Ratna Samman are milestones that remind me of how far I have come. Participating in international education conferences like Education 2.0 and procuring Best Teacher Award from Hindustan Book's of Records, have allowed me to give back to the community that made me who I am.

But beyond these awards lies the greatest recognition of all—the smiles of my students, their gratitude, their success stories. When a student says, “Ma’am, you changed the way I look at English,” or “You made me believe in myself,” I feel a fulfilment no award can match.

I have realized that a teacher is forever a learner. Every classroom teaches me as much as I teach. Every interaction adds a layer to my understanding of life. And every child reminds me that education is not about producing toppers; it is about producing better human beings.

My teaching philosophy has always been simple: make learning joyful, make it meaningful, and make it human. I refuse to see students as marks or grades; I see them as dreams waiting to take shape. And in shaping them, I continue to shape myself.

As I share my journey in the pages of this international magazine, I want every reader—especially every woman, every teacher, every dreamer—to know this: beginnings do not define endings. You can start from zero ground and still touch the sky. Struggles do not make you weak; they make your story worth telling. And mentors, friends, and family—no matter how few—are enough to help you climb mountains if you dare to take the first step.

I stand today as a teacher, an awardee, an author, a daughter, a mother, and above all, a believer. My lantern has been lit by countless little sparks—of love, guidance, courage, and learning. And as I carry it forward, I only wish to light many more. Because when the student is ready, the master appears. And when the master teaches, the world changes—one child, one dream, one lesson at a time.