A Teacher’s Tale of Faith, Family, and Fortitude

By Mool Raj

Life’s journey is rarely a straight road. It is a meandering path, carved with deep valleys of loss and pain, and crowned with peaks of achievement and joy. Traversing this path requires not just the will to move forward, but the inner strength to rise after every fall.

Today, as I mark another birthday — November 1, 1972 — I find myself in a reflective state, sifting through the memories of five decades. Born on a crisp, serene Sunday in the picturesque village of Bhagora, District Doda, my story begins in the heart of Jammu and Kashmir’s rugged beauty. My birthplace was no bustling city, but a hamlet surrounded by rolling fields, ancient temples, and the slow rhythms of village life.

Our family home, built brick by brick by my parents, was more than a shelter. It was a symbol of their love, sacrifice, and unyielding commitment to their children. Every wall held the laughter of my siblings, the aroma of my mother’s cooking, and the warmth of evenings spent together after a long day’s work. That home, modest in appearance, grounded me in values I still hold dear: honesty, humility, and the dignity of hard work.

I was a shy child, neither a prodigy in the classroom nor a star on the sports field. At Government Middle School Panjsoo, I was known for my quiet nature. Yet my parents never allowed me to be defined by average grades or modest achievements. Their belief in my potential was steadfast, even when I doubted myself. It was a belief that would carry me through the most trying chapters of my life.

From Panjsoo, my academic journey led me to High School Trown and then Government Higher Secondary School Doda Boys. I later enrolled at Government Degree College, Bhaderwah. Each step forward in my education was a small victory for a boy from a humble background. Eventually, I secured admission to the University of Jammu for a postgraduate degree in Environmental Science — a field inspired by my deep connection to the land and nature of my childhood.

But even in seasons of growth, life has a way of testing us. While still studying, I suffered an irreparable loss — the passing of my beloved mother, Smt. Nanti Devi. She had been my greatest cheerleader, encouraging me to pursue my education despite financial constraints and personal hardships. Her death left a void I have never been able to fill. I still remember the compassion of Prof. (Dr.) Zahoor ul Din, Head of the Urdu Department and Controller of Examinations, who extended my second semester examination schedule by a month so that I could grieve and gather myself. That simple act of understanding remains etched in my heart.

In August 1999, I began my career as a teacher in the government service. It was a modest start, but for me, it was a calling. Teaching was never just a means of livelihood — it was a way to mould young minds, to give back the encouragement and guidance I had been fortunate to receive. Watching my students grow into confident, capable individuals has been among my greatest rewards.

Five years later, in 2004, I married, beginning a new chapter in my life. My wife and I were soon blessed with three children — Mohit Kumar, Manvi Devi, and Arudh Kumar. They became my world, my reason to persevere through life’s storms. Their love, innocence, and laughter have given me courage when my own strength faltered.

But life, as I have learned, is not without shadows. The most painful of these came not from strangers, but from a friend — my only close friend — whose betrayal struck without warning. For reasons I still do not fully understand, he turned against me, waging what felt like a silent, one-sided war. The hurt was not only in the loss of companionship, but in the shattering of trust. Betrayal, I realised, is a wound that time may never fully heal. Yet it also taught me resilience. It forced me to become more self-reliant, to guard my heart, and to value the few relationships that truly matter.

Through all of this, my writing became a refuge. It gave shape to my grief, my disappointments, and my triumphs. Putting words on paper became a way to make sense of the chaos — to transform raw pain into something that could, perhaps, help others understand they were not alone in their struggles.

Faith in God has been my anchor through every storm. I believe that life’s trials are not punishments, but lessons. Every setback, every heartbreak, carries within it the seed of growth. My values — honesty, integrity, and an unshakable dislike for falsehood — are non-negotiable. I cannot abide lies, cheating, or backstabbing. In a world that often rewards deceit, I cling stubbornly to truth, knowing that it may not make me rich or popular, but it will keep my conscience clear.

When I think of my childhood, I see golden afternoons spent playing in the fields, climbing trees, and grazing cattle with my mother near the sacred Doli Mandir. I hear my grandparents’ voices, their stories of courage and endurance shaping my understanding of life. I feel the deep, almost spiritual connection with the natural world — a connection that eventually drew me to study environmental science, in the hope of giving back to the land that raised me.

School life was not without its struggles. I wrestled with self-doubt and sometimes felt invisible among my peers. But every time I stumbled, my parents — especially my mother — lifted me up. They saw in me a potential I could not yet recognise, and their faith became the bedrock of my own self-belief.

The day I completed my post-graduation was bittersweet. My mother was not there to see it, but I knew she was the reason I had made it that far. Every late-night study session, every exam passed, every challenge overcome — it was all in honour of her sacrifices.

My career in teaching has been a blessing. It has given me not just a platform to educate, but also to learn — from my students, from their stories, and from the responsibility of shaping the next generation. The classroom has been my sanctuary, a place where my purpose is clear and my contributions tangible.

Fatherhood has deepened my sense of responsibility. My children’s milestones — their first steps, their first words, their small victories — are etched in my memory. They remind me daily that life’s greatest rewards are often found in the smallest moments.

The betrayal by my friend remains a scar, but it is not my defining feature. It is a reminder that trust is precious and must be placed wisely. The love of my family, my students’ respect, and my faith in God are the constants that keep me steady.

And so, on this birthday, I celebrate more than just the passing of another year. I celebrate resilience — the ability to bend but not break, to lose yet still love, to stumble and still rise. My life, with all its crests and troughs, has taught me that while we cannot control the storms, we can decide how to navigate them.

As the years roll on, one truth remains unchanged:
“Days turn into months, months into years — I remember my beloved mother with silent tears.”

The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of this newspaper