Life has this strange way of handing you embarrassment on a silver platter; it has two settings: comedy or tragedy. Spilled coffee on your shirt? Tragedy. Spilled coffee on your white shirt five minutes before an interview? Comedy gold. The situation is the same, but the punchline depends on whether you groan or laugh. That’s not denial, that’s PhD-level coping.

Humour has this sneaky superpower: it doesn’t hand you lessons in a textbook; it sneaks them in when you’re too busy laughing at your own clumsiness. Missed your bus? Congratulations, you’ve just unlocked Level 1 in “Patience: Deluxe Edition.” Bombed a group presentation? Crack a joke, get a few laughs, and voilà: free stand-up comedy, starring you. Even personally, the moments that taught me the most weren’t dressed up as “life lessons”; they came wrapped in jokes. Once I locked myself out of my own room and had to explain to the hostel warden how my “brilliant IQ” forgot the keys. Sure, it was humiliating then, but today it’s stand-up material and also a reminder to triple-check my pockets.

Comedy is life’s unpaid therapist. It costs nothing, arrives on time, and somehow teaches you lessons between the punchlines. The thing about humour is that it doesn’t preach; it pokes. It doesn’t scold; it winks. It turns grief into something manageable, awkwardness into connection, and mistakes into memories you laugh at over chai with friends.

So yes, humour may not be in the curriculum, but it remains the best teacher. Oops—did you just grow from that joke?