I met him the first time in 2008, at the Young Leaders Conference. A slightly hefty man, with sparkling eyes and a smoke in his hand, it seemed like Nadeem Chawhan had something different to offer.

I anxiously waited for when he would get onto the stage and pick up the mic. We all sat there expecting to be surprised. And, when the time finally came, we weren't disappointed.

Nadeem Chawhan took to the mic and made us all chant in unison: "I will kill my Bobo!"

Who or what on earth was 'Bobo'? I wondered. And how do I kill it?

In Nadeem Chawhan's dictionary, Bobo was actually our internal negative vibe which pulled on us at all times. Nadeem was insistent that each of us burn it into cinders. And not through serious intense methods, but only with fun and frolic. At one point, he even handed us water guns to kill that negative devil.

Throughout the six days of the conference, Nadeem ingrained into us the desire to kill our bobos so much so that I chanted in my sleep: "I will kill my Bobo".

That's what the Nadeem effect was like.

For those unfamiliar with his work, Nadeem Chawhan was one of the best motivational speakers in Pakistan.

Corporate trainer, consultant, founder and CEO of the training firm Navitus, Nadeem was loved all over for the stories he would tell and the ways he would engage you in personal and professional development.

Needless to say, I was completely overwhelmed with his speech at that conference. The ease and charm he exuded; the confidence he wore; the determination he held to change as many lives as possible — Nadeem Chawhan was so much larger than life.

I went up to him, scared and hesitant because all great men carried some level of arrogance, right?

So wrong, I was.

Two seconds into the conversation, he was talking to me like he had known me for ages. And when I asked for a picture and put up my usual smile for the camera, Nadeem insisted that I should strike a unique pose.

The author with Nadeem Chawhan. —Photo by author

In that moment, I knew this was a man who didn't like to take whatever he could get.

He wanted extraordinary things for himself — and the same for others.

He was a genius wrapped in a mask of humility.

In 2010, I met him again, this time, he was making people walk over fire without getting so much as a blister on their feet — a feat I thought, was impossible. I watched in awe as he enabled the youth to control their own minds to be able to emerge unscathed after a walk on burning coal.

That day, I knew he wasn't just a motivational trainer. He was a force, a fearless man, facing life with all guns blazing. Life was a journey and Nadeem adamantly rode it the way he wanted to.

A few days ago, I received a text message saying Nadeem Chawhan was not with us anymore. I was shocked. The man who transformed the impossible into possible had finally met a stop in the only way possible.

The youth can no more meet the man who taught me to kill my Bobo. Just the sheer number of people who reacted to his death is testimony to the number of lives Nadeem had touched, and the generation of youth that has now been orphaned.

As much as I wish that Nadeem Chawhan would have lived more, I believe that his legacy will certainly live on forever.

His departure has reminded me and every other individual he has guided of that one timeless lesson: our time in this world is limited.

In this little time, let us let our minds and hearts make a conscious effort to make each moment worthwhile for ourselves and for others.

For as Nadeem, himself, once said: