Today, we lost a teacher who was much more than a professor.
She was the only woman lecturer in the Department of Mass Communication and Journalism at Mangalore University during our time. She had literally grown up in Konaje, and perhaps in her late 20s, she joined the department. From then until her retirement in 2018, she spent decades quietly, patiently and steadily teaching journalism.
Ma’am was soft-spoken. There was never any unnecessary loudness in her teaching.
Her subjects themselves were the soft skills of journalism: *Reporting, Feature Writing, New Media Technology and Corporate Communication.
I still remember the way she would enthusiastically explain *CSR activities* or explain interesting advertisements. Those little examples stayed with us.
She would begin the class with an activity, asking students to read aloud new-media terms and explain their meanings.
She had those handwritten time-worn pages from which she would teach. She would look through them, and then explain everything in her own calm and steady manner. She never rushed. She never wandered away from the subject. She was be very meticulous about completing everything prescribed in the syllabus.
*Not once do I remember her deviating from her topic.*
She was extremely careful with her words. She never unnecessarily uttered controversial words, never tried to create a stir, and always stayed away from anything that could create a ruckus on campus. There was a quiet dignity in the way she carried herself.
And when she became the *Chairperson of the Department,* that meticulousness became even more evident.
She would read every file. Every letter. Every word.
She would make corrections, sometimes even to a single word. She believed in doing things properly. She didn’t seek attention. She simply went with the flow of her work, quietly doing what had to be done.
Ma’am taught us journalism, but perhaps unknowingly, she also taught us something about discipline, precision and dignity.
I was fortunate to have her not only as my professor, but later as my research guide.
Today, I think of those those carefully chosen words, those slow explanations, and the quiet presence of a teacher who spent her life teaching generations of journalists.
Dear ma’am,
You taught us, guided us, corrected us and watched generations of students move forward.
You will remain a part of the journalism department, a part of our memories, and a part of the journalists we became.
You lived quietly, calmly and with dignity. *May your soul now find the same peace and tranquillity that you carried throughout your life.
-Dr Safiya,
Assistant Professor in Journalism
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