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By:

Asha Tripathi

14 April 2025 at 1:35:28 pm

Stop Comparing, Start Growing

Success does not grow in comparison; it grows in focus. Over the years, women have made significant strides in every sphere of life. From managing homes to leading organisations, from nurturing families to building successful careers, women have proved that strength and resilience are deeply rooted in their nature. Financial independence has become a significant milestone for many women today, bringing with it confidence, dignity, and the freedom to shape one’s own destiny. However, along...

Stop Comparing, Start Growing

Success does not grow in comparison; it grows in focus. Over the years, women have made significant strides in every sphere of life. From managing homes to leading organisations, from nurturing families to building successful careers, women have proved that strength and resilience are deeply rooted in their nature. Financial independence has become a significant milestone for many women today, bringing with it confidence, dignity, and the freedom to shape one’s own destiny. However, along with growth has come another silent challenge — the tendency to constantly observe, compare, and sometimes even compete with the journeys of others. But a crucial question arises: Is it necessary to track the growth of others in order to grow ourselves? From my personal experience of more than two decades as an entrepreneur, I have realised something very powerful — true growth begins the moment we stop looking sideways and start looking within. A Small Beginning I had a flourishing career of teaching abroad, but when I restarted my career after moving back to India, my beginning was extremely small. My very first assignment was a simple home tuition for a single student, and the amount I earned was meagre. There was nothing glamorous about it. No recognition, no large batches, no big earnings. Just one student and one opportunity. But instead of worrying about how others were doing, how many students they had, or how much they were earning, I made a conscious decision—my only focus would be on improving myself. I focused on teaching better, preparing better, and becoming more disciplined and consistent. And slowly, without even realising it, things began to grow. One student became two, two became a small group, and gradually, over the years, the work expanded beyond what I had initially imagined. Looking back today, I can confidently say that the growth did not happen because I competed with others. It happened because I competed with myself yesterday. Comparison Creates Noise When we keep watching others' journeys too closely, we unknowingly divert our own energy. Comparison creates unnecessary noise in our minds. It brings doubts, insecurities, and sometimes even negativity. Instead of walking our own path with clarity, we start questioning our speed, our direction, and our worth. True success grows through focus, not comparison. Every woman has her own story, her own pace, and her own struggles that others may never see. The path of one person can never be identical to another's. So comparing journeys is like comparing two different rivers flowing towards the same ocean — each with its own route, its own curves, and its own rhythm. As women, we already carry many responsibilities. We balance emotions, relationships, work, and society's expectations. In such a life, the last thing we need is the burden of comparison with one another. Instead, what we truly need is support for each other. When women encourage women, something extraordinary happens. Confidence grows. Opportunities multiply. Strength becomes collective rather than individual. There is enough space in the world for every woman to create her own identity. Each of us can build our own niche without stepping on someone else's path. Choose Encouragement Envy weakens us, but encouragement empowers us. Rather than questioning how someone else is progressing, we can ask a more meaningful question: "How can I grow a little better than I was yesterday?" Lift As You Rise Today, after twenty years of experience, the most valuable lesson I have learned is simple yet profound — focus on your own work with honesty and dedication, and success will quietly follow you. We, women, are capable, resilient, and creative. We do not need to pull each other down or compete in unhealthy ways. Instead, we can lift each other up while building our own dreams. Because when one woman rises, she does not rise alone. She inspires many others to believe that they can rise, too. And perhaps that is the most beautiful form of success. (The writer is a tutor based in Thane. Views personal.)

Uncovering the Invisible History of Indian Journalism

For more than seven decades, the Press Trust of India (PTI) has been the silent engine driving Indian journalism, delivering news with speed, accuracy and credibility across the nation. Yet, the stories behind the stories, the human drama inside newsrooms and the relentless effort that transforms events into headlines have largely remained invisible. 'What They Don’t Teach You in Journalism Schools' lifts that veil, offering a rare and compelling journey into the inner workings of India’s most influential news agency.


Edited by Sameer C. Mohindru, the book is not merely a collection of anecdotes, it is a carefully curated archive of lived experiences. Through first-hand accounts from PTI reporters, editors and desk professionals, it reconstructs some of the most defining moments in modern Indian history—wars, political upheavals, assassinations, diplomatic crises and social transformations. Each narrative is grounded in rigorous fact-checking and enriched with context, making the book both historically valuable and narratively engaging.


What distinguishes this work from conventional journalism memoirs is its focus on the invisible labour of newsmaking. The book captures the intensity of high-pressure moments when seconds matter, decisions are irreversible, and the stakes are national. Readers are drawn into the nerve centres of journalism, where reporters race against time, editors weigh words with precision, and technical teams ensure that information travels seamlessly across vast distances. These behind-the-scenes episodes reveal journalism not as a glamorous profession, but as a demanding craft built on discipline, judgment, and resilience.


Equally significant is the book’s tribute to PTI’s unsung heroes—the engineers, technicians, desk editors and field reporters who have sustained the agency’s reputation over decades. Many of them operated in anonymity, signing off with initials rather than names, embodying a culture where institutional credibility mattered more than individual fame. In an era increasingly dominated by personal branding and instant opinions, these stories serve as a powerful reminder of journalism’s foundational values: objectivity, accuracy, and public service.


The foreword by former Jammu and Kashmir Governor N. N. Vohra reinforces the book’s importance, describing it as a commendable effort to preserve the legacy of PTI’s veterans. His reflections underscore how the agency’s work intersected with the corridors of power—Prime Ministers, diplomats, security establishments, and policymakers—offering readers a nuanced understanding of how news and governance often converge behind closed doors.


Beyond its historical and professional significance, the book also functions as an informal textbook for aspiring journalists. It exposes the gap between what journalism schools teach and what the profession actually demands. The title itself is a subtle critique of academic training, suggesting that the true lessons of journalism are learned not in classrooms, but in newsrooms and on the field. For students of media, the book offers practical insights into ethics, decision-making, teamwork, and the pressures of real-time reporting.


At a broader level, 'What They Don’t Teach You in Journalism Schools' is also a reflection on the evolution of Indian media. As news consumption shifts towards digital platforms and algorithms, the book invites readers to reconsider the enduring relevance of institutional journalism. It reminds us that credible news is not an accident, but the outcome of painstaking processes and collective effort.


Engaging, informative and deeply reflective, this book is more than a tribute to PTI—it is a chronicle of Indian journalism itself. Whether one is a practicing journalist, a student of media, a historian or simply a reader curious about how news is made, this volume offers rare insights and enduring lessons. In preserving the voices of those who shaped India’s news narrative from behind the scenes, the book performs an invaluable service—not just to journalism, but to history.

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