By| Kamran Ashraf Bhat
I received a call from Pravin Sahab, a (JCO) serving in a military unit.
“Sahab is coming to visit the radio station. Please be ready to receive him,” he said.
As always, I made sure I was ready on time, dressed properly, and asked my colleagues to get ready as well. At that time, we were staying at our host’s house in Karnah until we could find a rented room near our workplace.
It was around 9:00 a.m., almost an hour before we were expected to report to the station at 10:10 a.m. to receive the senior military officer. Yet, I had no idea who the officer was. Pravin Sahab had simply said, “Sahab is coming.” In the military, the word Sahab carries the same respect as Sir and is commonly used by soldiers while addressing their senior officers.
Unfortunately, my colleagues were still not ready, and I was becoming increasingly anxious. I have always believed that everything should be prepared on time. I wanted our first meeting with the officer to go smoothly and hoped he would leave with a good impression of our professionalism.
Having previously worked as a Station Manager at another radio station, I was confident that I would be able to communicate effectively with the visiting officer.
Around 9:30 a.m., we finally left and managed to reach the station barely ten minutes before the reporting time. I felt disappointed with myself because I had planned to arrive much earlier, interact with the staff, and understand the overall situation. It was, after all, my own first detailed visit to the community radio station namely Radio Rooh-e-Karnah.
Those ten minutes were only enough for me to learn the names of the staff members. Moments later, the sound of approaching vehicles broke the silence. The military personnel immediately formed up outside the main entrance of the station. I stepped out and instructed our staff to stand in line as well.
The convoy stopped.
A tough-looking officer stepped out of the vehicle, Col. Sudeep Bose, the officer who had conducted our job interviews.
He greeted us with a warm smile.
I began giving him a tour of the station, explaining our facilities and operations. To my surprise, he showed very little interest in my briefing. Instead, he quietly observed every corner of the station on his own, carefully reviewing everything.
I found it rather unusual.
I wondered why he wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying. Like many people, I assumed that senior military officers were rarely involved in media or communication assignments. I thought he simply wanted to complete the visit as quickly as possible.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
After inspecting the station, we entered the live studio for an interaction.
Within the first few minutes of our conversation, I realised that the man standing before me possessed an extraordinary understanding of mass communication and the operational value of a community radio station. Every observation he made reflected not only knowledge but also deep comprehension. He never accepted anything at face value. Whenever he spoke about content, communication, or its strategic importance, he spoke with complete conviction and remarkable credibility.
It was at that moment that I understood I was not dealing with an ordinary officer.
I was meeting a true maverick.
The First Lesson
Only a few minutes into the discussion, my confidence began to disappear.
Since I had barely spent any time at the station before that day, I did not have complete information about its functioning. As the conversation progressed, Col. Sudeep Bose began questioning me on various aspects of the station’s operations. Every unanswered question exposed my lack of preparation.
He did not spare me.
His criticism was direct, uncompromising, and relentless.
The image I had created in my mind of a senior military officer was shattered within minutes. It wasn’t that I didn’t know my profession, I did. What surprised me was the depth of his understanding of mass communication. I had never expected a senior military officer to possess such command over the functioning of a radio station.
At that moment, I felt two emotions simultaneously.
I was deeply impressed.
And I was equally shaken.
His words were harsh, but they were never dishonest.
As my professional relationship with him grew over the months, I came to understand something fundamental about his personality: he had no filter. He was exactly who he appeared to be. He never believed in offering false praise or empty encouragement. If you deserved appreciation, he acknowledged it. But if you failed to meet the standard, he would tell you so without hesitation.
Initially, it was difficult to accept.
Over time, however, I realised that his criticism was one of the greatest gifts he ever gave me.
He taught me how to absorb criticism without taking it personally. He made me mentally tougher. More importantly, he trained me to separate my ego from my work, a lesson that would prove invaluable throughout my career.
His intention was never to humiliate anyone. He simply refused to tolerate mediocrity.
Creative professions, especially those involving daily content production like a community radio station, often suffer from what many call creative fatigue. Once people become comfortable, they stop experimenting. Routine replaces passion, and slowly, creativity dies.
Col. Sudeep Bose understood this better than most.
He constantly pushed us beyond our comfort zones because he feared stagnation more than failure.
One sentence of his has remained with me ever since:
“Listen, Kamran. What makes us great is not ideas alone. Thousands of original ideas are born every day, and most of them disappear into darkness. What makes the difference is the passion to transform an idea into reality. Only ideas backed by action survive.”
That lesson has stayed with me for life.
He would often remind me that as the head of a creative team, I could never expect quality unless I first sat at my desk with a clear storyboard and a complete understanding of what I wanted to communicate.
Without clarity, he would say, every production becomes nothing more than noise.
Those conversations often reminded me of a scene from Oppenheimer. In the film, Niels Bohr asks J. Robert Oppenheimer:
“Algebra is like sheet music. The important thing isn’t, can you read music? It’s, can you hear it? Can you hear the music, Robert?”
That dialogue perfectly captures what Col. Bose tried to teach me.
Anyone can learn the technical aspects of media. Anyone can operate a camera, write a script, or edit a video.
But very few people can truly hear the story before they begin telling it.
That is the difference between producing content and creating something meaningful.
The Morning It Rained
One morning in July, the weather was unusually gloomy. The air was heavy, and within minutes of my reaching the office, torrential rain began to pour. It wasn’t ordinary rainfall, it was the kind that transforms streams into rivers within minutes. The small drain flowing beside the Radio Rooh-e-Karnah building was overflowing because of flash floods, making it almost impossible to step outside.
Every morning, it had become my routine to report to the Deputy Commander, Col. Sudeep Bose, and brief him on the ongoing operations of the radio station. That day, however, I convinced myself that the weather was reason enough to skip the briefing. I thought, “Sir will understand. It’s impossible to get through this rain.”
I was wrong.
Around 10:30 a.m., nearly thirty minutes after my usual reporting time, my phone rang.
It was Col. Bose.
“Where are you, Kamran?” he asked.
“You were supposed to report.”
“Sir,” I replied hesitantly, “the weather is really bad.”
There was a brief silence.
Then came the response that I have never forgotten.
His words were firm, sharp, and unmistakably military.
“You will come for reporting no matter what”
For a moment, I had no answer.
Still unfamiliar with the uncompromising culture of military discipline, I was caught completely off guard. Without wasting another second, I rushed out into the rain, crossed the overflowing drain, and reached his office within five minutes, completely drenched.
As I entered, the first thing he said was,
“If there is a war, you report at any cost.”
That sentence struck me far more deeply than I realised at the time.
A few moments later, the atmosphere changed. He asked someone to bring me a hot cappuccino. His tone softened, and he explained calmly,
“Discipline is a code. Once you begin making exceptions for weather, convenience, or comfort, the code starts breaking. And once the code breaks, discipline disappears.”
That morning became one of the defining moments of my professional life.
From that day onward, I never missed my morning reporting without informing him in advance. More importantly, I understood that discipline is not about obeying orders when circumstances are favourable. It is about honouring your commitment even when circumstances are against you.
An organisation survives because people respect its code.
When the code weakens, the structure begins to weaken. And when the structure collapses, the very purpose for which it was built is eventually lost.
Looking back today, I realise that Col. Bose wasn’t merely teaching me military discipline. He was teaching me a philosophy of life.
Another quality of his left a lasting impression on me.
Whether he was speaking to a Lieutenant Colonel, a junior officer, or to me, a civilian, his standards never changed. He neither elevated nor lowered his expectations based on rank or position.
Surprisingly, that was one of the greatest compliments he ever paid me.
He never made me feel “special” simply because I delivered good work. No matter how successful a project became or how much appreciation it received, he always kept me grounded.
At the time, I sometimes wished he would praise me a little more.
Today, I understand why he never did.
He was protecting me from the most dangerous enemy of growth, complacency.
He never allowed success to become my comfort zone.
The Maverick
Col. Sudeep Bose was unlike anyone I had ever worked with.
He was unconventional in the truest sense of the word, a man with radical ideas who constantly challenged traditional thinking. Coming from an academic background in multimedia and holding a Master’s degree in Cinema, I believed I understood the established principles of communication. I had studied the theories, followed the textbooks, and trusted the conventional methods.
But Col. Bose had little interest in convention.
He questioned assumptions, challenged accepted practices, and was never afraid to break away from the norm if he believed there was a better way. That is what made him a maverick.
When we were setting up Radio Rooh-e-Karnah, my initial proposal was straightforward. I suggested that we should spend considerable time training the team before publishing any content. Most of our Radio Jockeys had no previous experience in broadcasting or media. I feared that releasing poorly produced content too early would invite unnecessary criticism and controversy.
Col. Bose listened patiently.
Then he gave me ten days.
Those ten days were devoted entirely to training. We covered the fundamentals of media ethics, camera etiquette, presentation skills, script writing, voice modulation, interviewing techniques, and the basics of storytelling. By the end of the programme, the team had improved remarkably.
Even then, I wasn’t satisfied.
I requested more time.
Another twenty days were added to the training schedule. The Radio Jockeys became more confident. They learned how to face the camera, write scripts, and communicate effectively. Yet I still hesitated.
Deep down, I believed they were not ready.
I wanted perfection before exposing them to the public.
Col. Bose disagreed.
After reviewing the team’s progress, he looked at me and said something that completely changed my approach to leadership.
“Listen, Kamran. Their fear will never disappear. If you keep waiting for the perfect moment, that moment will never come. Put them on social media. Even if the videos are imperfect, even if they’re terrible, I want them published. Three videos. No excuses.”
His order left me under immense pressure.
That evening, I returned to my room exhausted. I lay down in my room for hours, unable to stop thinking about what he had said.
Every instinct within me argued against it.
I wanted to protect my team from criticism.
I wanted to protect the station’s reputation.
Above all, I wanted perfection.
But then another thought crossed my mind.
“Orders have been given. It is now my responsibility to make them work.”
The very next day, an unexpected opportunity arrived.
The renowned artist and founder of the Rouble Nagi Art Foundation, Rouble Nagi, visited the station. Col. Bose brought her to Radio Rooh-e-Karnah, introduced her to our team, and encouraged us to conduct an interview.
We recorded a podcast and produced a short video documenting her visit.
It became our first official social media upload.
I still remember refreshing the page repeatedly.
Within twenty-four hours, the video had crossed 200,000 views.
A few days later, its cumulative reach crossed one million views.
Everything I had feared simply faded away.
That single video transformed our confidence.
From that day onward, we began uploading content regularly. There were successes and failures. Some videos received modest engagement, while others reached hundreds of thousands, and eventually millions, of viewers.
Gradually, people began recognising our Radio Jockeys. They were no longer anonymous voices behind microphones. They had become familiar faces in the community.
Within just seven months, Radio Rooh-e-Karnah had surpassed several community radio stations across Jammu and Kashmir that had been operating for more than 3 years with better infrastructure and more advanced equipment.
We had fewer resources.
We had less experience.
But we had one advantage.
We had a leader who believed that action was always more valuable than endless preparation.
Only after witnessing those results did I truly understand how far ahead Col. Bose was in his thinking.
He had seen possibilities that I, despite all my education and training, could not.
That is what separates a maverick from the rest.
A conventional leader asks, “What if we fail?”
A maverick asks, “What if we never begin?”
That lesson changed the way I approached every creative challenge thereafter.
Even today, I try to live by the philosophy he unknowingly instilled in me:
Do your best. Embrace the pressure. Walk the untrodden path. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and never be afraid to challenge the norms that limit human potential.
What a Leader Truly Means
Among the many lessons Col. Sudeep Bose taught me, one has remained with me more deeply than any other.
He taught me what leadership truly means.
I always saw him not eating before his soldiers or be it guests. He ensures that his men are seated, served, and comfortable before he takes his own plate. At first, I thought he was speaking only about military tradition.
Later, I realised it was much more than that in a book titled “ leaders Eat Last”
It was a philosophy.
A leader exists not to be served, but to serve. His first responsibility is to protect the dignity, confidence, and well-being of the people under his command. When your team knows that you will stand beside them in difficult times, they stop working merely out of obligation, they begin working out of trust.
I witnessed that principle in action.
There came a time when certain individuals, driven more by personal prejudice than professional integrity, tried to undermine me. They attempted to damage my credibility through different corridors of influence because they realised that intimidation would not make me compromise my work or my principles.
It was one of the most difficult phases of my professional life.
During that period, Col. Sudeep Bose never distanced himself from me.
He did exactly the opposite.
He stood firmly by my side.
He spoke openly in my support before those who questioned my integrity and made it clear that he trusted me completely. He defended not only my work but also my character. His confidence in me never wavered.
At that moment, I found myself wondering why he had taken such a bold stand.
After all, it would have been much easier for him to remain silent.
Then I understood.
That is what real leadership looks like.
A true leader does not abandon his people when circumstances become uncomfortable. He does not disappear when criticism begins. He does not measure loyalty according to convenience.
He stands beside those who have earned his trust.
That experience left a permanent mark on me.
Later, when I began leading team of my own, I often found myself reflecting on his example. Whenever my colleagues faced criticism or setbacks, I tried to support them first and correct them later. I had learned that accountability and compassion are not opposites; they are complementary qualities of good leadership.
Col. Bose was uncompromising when it came to standards, but equally unwavering when it came to standing by his people.
There is an important difference between being a boss and being a leader.
A boss demands results.
A leader builds people capable of achieving them.
Looking back, I realise that everything he taught me, discipline, courage, honesty, creative excellence, resilience, and responsibility, was ultimately preparing me for one thing:
Leadership.
For all of that, I will always remain sincerely grateful to Colonel Sudeep Bose.
He made me believe that every generation needs a few mavericks, people willing to question convention, challenge comfortable assumptions, and take bold decisions despite uncertainty.
History rarely remembers those who merely followed established paths.
It remembers those who had the courage to create new ones.
There is a thought that has stayed with me for years:
A body may perish. Flesh and blood may disappear. But an idea, when it is rooted in conviction, cannot be destroyed. It survives generations, inspiring people long after its creator is gone.
That, perhaps, is the true legacy of every maverick.
No journey is ever completed alone.
As I write these memories, I remember with gratitude the colleagues who walked this journey with me and contributed to making Radio Rooh-e-Karnah what it became.
RJ Injila Khanim
Wasim Ahmed
Ashfaq Lone
RJ Shanu Fareed
RJ Isma Fareed
Yaseer Naseer (Editor)
Ishtiyaq Abbasi (Multimedia Support)
Iqra Ansari
RJ Mubeena Akhter
RJ Salma Saleem
RJ Khushal Khawaja
Rashid Qureshi (Famous Pahari Singer )
Rashid Lone ( Famous Pahari Writer)
JCO Pravin Shab
Lovedeep (Jawan)
To each one of you, thank you for being a part of this remarkable journey.
