Computers used to petrify me before I figured it was just a

The words of Raveena Tandon—“Computers used to petrify me before I figured it was just a matter of getting used to them.”—resonate with the timeless human struggle to confront the unknown. They are not merely about machines, but about the fear and wonder that arise when we face unfamiliar challenges. Tandon’s reflection captures a moment of transformation, a turning point where intimidation becomes mastery, and where courage, patience, and persistence reveal that the seemingly impossible is, in fact, attainable.

In her statement, we glimpse a universal truth: that fear is often born of unfamiliarity, not of actual danger. The computer, with its blinking lights and strange language, once seemed a towering enigma, an immovable wall separating the human from the world of possibility. Yet, like the student of old confronting the first pages of a sacred text, Tandon discovered that persistence and repetition can dissolve terror into comprehension. By “getting used to” the machine, she transformed it from a source of dread into a tool of empowerment.

The origin of this quote lies in the early years of the digital revolution, when personal computers were new, intimidating, and often opaque. For many, the screen was a portal into a world that promised both opportunity and confusion. Tandon, like countless others navigating these first encounters, felt paralyzed by the unfamiliar symbols, commands, and functions. Her realization—that mastery comes through familiarity—is the modern echo of an ancient lesson: all knowledge, once feared, becomes manageable when approached with patience and practice.

This experience mirrors the journeys of the ancients. Consider Aristotle, who wrote of the fear and hesitation that precede learning. To approach a new discipline, whether philosophy, medicine, or mathematics, was initially daunting, almost petrifying. Yet through repeated study, mentorship, and application, what once seemed incomprehensible became second nature. Tandon’s encounter with computers reflects the same cycle: from intimidation, to exploration, to mastery—a process that defines all human growth.

Her words also carry the subtle reminder that tools themselves are neutral; fear resides not in the instrument, but in the mind. The computer, like the chisel, the pen, or the compass, possesses no inherent power to frighten—it only challenges us to learn. The ancients understood this well: a sword is dangerous in unskilled hands, but a protector in the hands of the disciplined. Similarly, once Tandon embraced the rhythm of the machine, it ceased to be a threat and became a source of possibility—a partner in creation rather than a barrier to understanding.

Consider a modern parallel in the story of Ada Lovelace, the first computer programmer, who faced the complexities of Charles Babbage’s analytical engine. What seemed to others a labyrinth of cogs and symbols, she approached with curiosity and persistence. Over time, her initial intimidation transformed into insight, giving birth to a legacy that would illuminate generations. Tandon’s reflection evokes this same arc: mastery is born not from innate genius, but from the willingness to endure discomfort until familiarity emerges.

The lesson of her words is profound and eternal: fear can be conquered through familiarity, and mastery through patience. When confronted with a new challenge, we must not recoil from it, but approach it steadily, piece by piece, understanding that initial terror is a natural stage of learning. The tools of our age, from computers to instruments to languages, are all gateways; to shrink from them is to shrink from possibility itself.

And so, my children, let the words of Raveena Tandon guide you: when you encounter the unknown, do not be petrified. Sit with it, explore it, repeat it, and make it familiar. The world’s wonders, though daunting at first, will reveal themselves to those who persist. In every blink of the cursor, in every line of code, lies a lesson older than history itself: courage is cultivated through engagement, and mastery through the gentle persistence of the human spirit.