All these were unthinkable for me until a year ago.
For a quiet backbencher most of his life, who shrank from the microphone, who shunned the spotlight, who couldn't even think properly without the full quota of sleep — this was a transformation I never saw coming.
During my student years and thereafter, I’d speak only when called upon. A debate competition gone wrong cemented the fear: I forgot my lines, stumbled, and froze. The words weren’t even mine—they were ghostwritten.
The humiliation left a scar.
From that day, I resolved to write my own words. Writing became my refuge. Speaking, however, remained my shadow.
The Book That Changed Everything
The first significant change was publishing my book; with this single move, I put myself out there.
But that was nothing compared to what followed. I had to promote the book, which involved not just sharing on social platforms and reaching out to my connections, but also speaking about the book on camera and in public forums.
Writing a book is still solitary. Promoting it isn’t. Avoiding interviews seemed okay for six weeks—until I realised my silence was costing the book its reach.
I agreed to be interviewed on camera under the studio lights. As nerve-wracking as it seemed, thankfully, it was a recording with no audience present.
A week later, I launched the book on a winter afternoon, this time speaking on camera in front of an invited audience. Even this was okay, as all invitees were known to me. I survived both experiences amidst heightened anxiety.
This year, I took it slow, doing just one every quarter — from speaking at a Writer’s festival, being interviewed on Zoom for my book, to addressing senior school students in a packed auditorium.
Spacing these events out helped ease the pressure. And then, just like that, it all changed. Something I would have laughed at if someone had suggested it earlier.
From one in three months to three in 24 hours, a huge shift occurred a week ago. I addressed and interacted with journalism students at my alma mater, spoke on a podcast, signed copies of my book for readers, and even appeared on a radio show as a guest to talk about my book.
There was little choice on the date and time. I was travelling to my home state for just two and a half days, and I already had important family commitments for a full day. That left me with just 24 hours to schedule all three public engagements that were lined up well in advance.
I couldn’t say no, but also, deep down, I had been looking forward to doing them.
The Double Whammy
What made it far worse was that I had barely slept for two nights. Frozen shoulders kept me tossing, turning, and waking in pain. For someone who values sleep like oxygen, barely four hours of sleep was brutal. I woke up groggy, irritable, and unfocused. I couldn’t even think straight, let alone speak.
If it were any other day, I would have stayed silent and waited for the day to pass, but that wasn’t an option.
I could have postponed it. But sometimes, life doesn’t give you the luxury of perfect conditions. The show had to go on.
So, I showed up and spoke.
The Big Lesson
By the time I finished interacting with students on campus, I was tired; I had to drive two hours to reach the next event.
Just before the podcast, I felt as though my batteries were about to run out. It couldn’t have been more ill-timed. I did the best I could under those circumstances.
Growth rarely happens when you’re comfortable. It happens when you walk into a room tired, jittery, half-asleep —and still find your voice. I just about did.
Don’t wait for the perfect stage; the act of showing up is the transformation.
You don’t need to be ready. You need to be there.
About Me
I am a thinker at all times. I see, I think. I hear, I think. I read, I think. Every weekend I write. I would love to know what you think.
Always admire you Sir 👍🥰🙌🙏