Professor Siddharth Joshi was known throughout the university for his brilliance—and his temper. He was the kind of teacher who expected nothing less than perfection from his students. His sharp words and quick temper had become almost legendary in the corridors. But what once made him unforgettable now made him unapproachable—and in the eyes of many students, nothing is left of the respect they once held for him.
“You’re late again, Sneha!” he snapped at a student who had quietly slipped into the classroom. “This isn’t a tea party. If you can’t respect time, don’t bother coming.”
Sneha’s cheeks flushed as she took her seat. No one dared to speak up. That was the thing with Professor Joshi—you admired him, but you also feared him.
He believed his anger made him powerful. His students feared him, yes, but they also respected him. He thought this tough love pushed them to be better. But what he failed to notice was the way they hesitated to approach him, the nervous whispers that filled the hallways after his classes.
One day, during a project review, Siddharth found himself losing patience again. Arav, one of his brightest students, had submitted a report that didn’t meet his standards.
“This is terrible,” Professor Joshi said, slamming the papers onto the table. “Did you even try, Arav? This is the kind of work I expect from someone who doesn’t care, not you!”
Arav stood frozen, his face pale. He had stayed up all night working on the project, but now, he only felt humiliated. “I… I thought it was good, sir,” he stammered.
“Good?” Siddharth scoffed. “There’s no place for ‘good’ in my class. It needs to be exceptional! Get out of my sight and don’t come back until it’s perfect.”
Arav nodded quickly and left, not meeting anyone’s eyes. The rest of the students sat in silence, afraid to even breathe too loudly.
At that moment, something changed—but not for the better. A connection broke. And Siddharth didn’t see it. To him, it was just another lesson in discipline. But for Arav, and many others, nothing is left of the trust they once had in their teacher.
Over time, fewer and fewer students came to Professor Joshi for guidance. His office hours, once bustling with eager minds, were now empty. The same corridors that once echoed with curiosity now echoed with avoidance. In their eyes, nothing is left of the mentor they once admired.
It wasn’t until a meeting with the department head, Professor Verma, that Siddharth realized something was wrong.
“Siddharth, I’ve noticed a decline in student engagement in your classes,” Professor Verma said gently. “They seem to be avoiding you. Is everything alright?”
Siddharth was taken aback. “Avoiding me? That’s absurd. I push them because I know they can do better. They need to learn discipline!”
“I understand that,” Professor Verma replied, “but there’s a difference between discipline and fear. Students aren’t coming to you because they’re scared of your anger, not because they don’t want to learn. You’re driving them away.”
That evening, Siddharth sat alone in his office. Not a knock at the door. Not a single student seeking help. Nothing is left but the sound of a ticking clock and a sinking realization.
He thought about Arav, about Sneha, about all the faces that once looked up to him. He believed he was shaping excellence, but instead, he had built walls. He had confused fear with respect. And now, nothing is left of the connection that once made teaching worth it.
His temper, the very thing he believed gave him strength, had become his downfall. He thought it gave him control, but it only left isolation in its place. Nothing is left of the enthusiasm, the spark in his classroom. Only silence and regret.
He walked through the corridors the next day, watching other professors laugh with their students, guiding them with kindness. And he realized—he hadn’t just lost students. He had lost his purpose. Nothing is left of the mentor he used to be.
A quiet guilt settled in his chest. Maybe he could change. Maybe he could try again. But right now, in that moment, nothing is left to hold on to but the hope that it’s not too late.
In chasing perfection through anger, he had gained fear—but lost hearts. And when the hearts are gone, NOTHING is left.
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When the Tide Turns… – “Let’s revisit where things began to shift.”