By Muntashir Kifayat Hussain

Every morning when I walk into the staffroom of our high school in Narabal, I feel the weight that most teachers in Kashmir carry.

The day begins early and ends late, filled with lessons, questions, and noise.

Teaching here demands patience and a strong heart. By the time school shuts, the chalk dust on our sleeves feels heavier than it should.

In the middle of this daily grind, I found someone who makes work feel lighter. He is a master-grade teacher, my colleague, and a person whose presence changes the air around him.

In my eighteen years of service, I have never met anyone like him.

He can read people's tiredness like an open book. During his free periods, he walks through classrooms to check on others. If he finds a teacher struggling, he steps in without a word.

Sometimes he brings a glass of water. Sometimes he offers to take a class. His small acts of care bring calm to a workplace where teachers often carry their burdens alone.

Once, a colleague fell sick. He took over all her classes for the day. Later he told me,“She is like our sister. At home we care for our sisters. Why not here?”

That one sentence stayed with me. He says our school should feel like a second home, a place where we lift each other up.

His kindness extends to children too. One day, the small son of a teacher playfully scratched his arm. He acted as if he was hurt, letting out a loud cry. When we rushed to him, he laughed and said,“When a lion cub bites, the lion pretends to be hurt to make the cub feel strong.”

That simple moment taught me what compassion looks like in real life.

He often quotes poetry and scripture. He explains that man was created to feel the pain of others because God already has angels to pray to Him. Those lines live in his actions.

One day, I visited his home village. I saw him standing by a drain, cleaning it with a long stick. I was surprised and asked what he was doing. He smiled and said,“I like to be useful, whether in school or at home. It brings me peace.”

That single line captured his whole philosophy. Teaching is not only about lessons or exams for him. It is a way of serving, helping, and being human.

In Kashmir's government schools, where teachers often face stress and loneliness, such people are rare.

Many teachers here deal with mental fatigue. Long hours, overcrowded classes, and lack of support make the work hard. In such a place, one caring colleague can change everything.

He often reminds me that life is uncertain, sometimes cruel, sometimes kind, but always too short for envy or anger.“Do good,” he says.“That is what stays with you.”

Since meeting him, I have tried to follow his example. I help where I can. I complain less. I find peace in small acts. When the day feels long, I think of him walking through the corridors, checking on others, spreading calm wherever he goes.

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