The word guru is often spoken casually today, applied to anyone who shows proficiency, influence, or popularity. Yet its origin carries a depth that modern usage frequently overlooks. It is derived from Sanskrit gu, which means darkness, and ru, meaning remover. A guru is therefore not merely an instructor, but one who leads another from darkness into light — intellectual, spiritual, or existential. This etymology alone demands reverence, for it frames the guru not as a performer or authority figure, but as a transformative presence.
Traditionally, the word guru refers to a revered teacher — someone from whom one learns through initiation into a discipline, practice, or way of being. This may be in religion, philosophy, the arts, medicine, or any structured pursuit of mastery. A guru does more than transmit information; they induct the student into a lineage of thought, discipline, and responsibility. The relationship is not transactional; it is built on trust, humility, surrender, and time.
It is important to distinguish between a teacher, a mentor, and a guru. A teacher imparts core knowledge — the facts, frameworks, and principles necessary to understand a subject. A mentor serves as a guide or coach, helping one navigate complexity, uncertainty, and growth. A guru may encompass both roles but goes further still. A true guru carries the wisdom of experience — having witnessed life at its highest and lowest — and offers not just instruction, but perspective. This is wisdom that points beyond achievement toward transcendence.
READ: Sreedhar Potarazu | The Impact of Indian ‘grind culture’ in American schools (February 3, 2026)
At the heart of guruship lies enlightenment — not as an abstract ideal, but as a lived state. A guru is one who is no longer swayed by the undulations of the world — and failure, praise and blame, gain and loss — yet remains deeply connected to humanity. This steadiness does not arise from detachment or privilege, but from having walked through darkness themselves. Having known suffering, confusion, and limitation, the guru emerges with compassion rather than judgment. Their light is credible precisely because it was forged in shadow. They do not deny pain; they contextualize it, making space for others to rise without fear.
This understanding finds resonance in the spiritual significance of Maha Shivaratri, celebrated by billions on February 15, a night associated with stillness, introspection, and awakening. In the Shaivite tradition, Shiva is revered as Dakshinamurti — the silent guru — who teaches not through discourse, but through presence. Seated beneath the banyan tree, facing south, Dakshinamurti represents the highest form of instruction: knowledge that dissolves ignorance without words. Shivaratri thus becomes a reminder that the guru’s role is not to overwhelm the mind, but to awaken insight.
In the modern world, many leaders — political, corporate, cultural — seek to be regarded as gurus. But this is a word that cannot be claimed lightly. Expertise alone does not confer guruship. A guru is not defined by followers, platforms, or proficiency, but by embodiment. To be a guru is to live one’s teachings, to remain anchored in humility, and to radiate integrity even in obscurity. The title is not bestowed by acclaim; it is recognized through consistency of being.
The next time we use the word guru, it is worth pausing to reflect on its depth. Just as not everyone is a king, not everyone who teaches or leads is a guru. The word carries lineage, responsibility, and sacred weight.
I learned this not from scripture alone, but viscerally, years ago, while sitting beside the Dalai Lama on a flight to India — where his quiet presence, untouched by turbulence or attention, conveyed more enlightenment than words ever could.
Read more columns by Sreedhar Potarazu
I have personally witnessed the divine presence of the Pope, Pujya Guru Swami Chinmayananda, Guru Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, and others. The energy of enlightenment that radiates from them all is identical.
This is true not only spiritually, but also in medicine. My esteemed professors in ophthalmology at the Bascom Palmer Eye Institute were gurus in the truest sense — individuals who embodied knowledge, compassion, and humility. Decades later, they continue to radiate wisdom and grace, reminding me that true enlightenment is not loud, not performative, but quietly transformative.
That is wisdom supreme and guru incarnate.