The Work I’d Do Without a Pay Cheque

“The Work I’d Do Without a Pay Cheque”

It’s a peculiar question, isn’t it? What job would you do for free? At first glance, it seems like an exercise in fantasy. After all, in a world that spins on coins and contracts, who has the luxury of working without expecting anything in return?

And yet, peel back the layers of our hearts and you’ll find that each of us harbours a vocation that stirs our soul more than it fills our pockets. A labour not of necessity, but of love. If money were no object, if bills didn’t stack like anxious soldiers on the mantelpiece, what would I still rise early to do?

For me, the answer is clear, unshaken by time or tide—I would teach.

A Classroom without a Salary

Teaching isn’t a profession—it’s a calling. Long before I donned the title of ‘Principal’, I was a student in the school of life, nurtured by the wisdom of Jesuit Fathers, comforted by the warmth of chalk dust, and carried forward by the curiosity of a mind that refused to sit still.

If given a classroom today—even with wooden benches and a leaking roof—I would teach. Not for promotions, not for perks, but for that flicker of understanding in a child’s eyes when a concept lands. That quiet “Aha!” moment is worth more than any cheque.

To teach is to touch eternity. A teacher never truly knows where their influence ends.

Wisdom for Free? Always!

In this journey of life, I’ve learnt that the most precious things we give—our time, knowledge, compassion—are often the ones we’re most hesitant to charge for. Perhaps that is because they come from a deeper well, one that money can neither buy nor exhaust.

Even now, in my so-called retirement, I find myself offering guidance to young teachers, students, and parents. Career counselling, training sessions, writing school hymns, or helping a young parent understand a speech-delayed child—all of it fills my heart, not my wallet.

My consultancy may carry a name and registration, but my counsel often flows free—like a river that quenches thirst without checking pockets.

The Philosophy of Unpaid Joy

Ancient Indian philosophy speaks of the Nishkama Karma—the action done without attachment to its fruit. Lord Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita reminds us, “Karmanye vadhikaraste, Ma phaleshou kadachana”—we have a right to perform our duties, but not to the rewards thereof.

In Christianity too, the parables of the Good Samaritan and the labourers in the vineyard speak to the value of selfless work. Acts of service, done in love, are the highest forms of worship.

So, if I teach a child, guide a friend, write a poem, or even sweep a temple courtyard—it is still sacred if done with joy.

But Isn’t It Foolish?

Yes, some may call it foolish. “Why toil for free?” they ask. “The world doesn’t run on goodwill.” True. But neither does it thrive on greed. Between the ruthless boardroom and the reckless spender is a realm of givers—silent, unpaid, and unrecognised—who make the world bearable.

And no, I am not preaching sainthood. I, too, have bills. I, too, have worries. But in the balance of heart and hand, when something aligns so perfectly with your spirit, you just do it. Payment or not.

A Final Bell

The job I would do for free isn’t one I ever truly retired from. It’s who I am. It’s in the way I hold a chalk. It’s in the way I greet a child. It’s in the way I still dream of timetables and school assemblies.

Yes, I’d teach. I’d inspire. I’d write. I’d guide.

And I daresay, if every soul found such a calling—a job they’d do for free—the world might just spin a bit more kindly on its axis.