The Joy of Leave: Understanding the Value of Breaks in Life

 

🌸The Art of Waiting: A Humorous Exploration of Life's Greatest Hobby🌸

 

🌸The Art of Waiting: A Humorous Exploration of Life's Greatest Hobby🌸

Wait... what? Oh right, 🍀waiting🍀. It’s something we all do, something we all dread, yet can’t escape. Like an eternal game of hide and seek, only you're always the one counting to 100... or 1,000... or 10,000. And everyone else seems to be hiding behind life’s various doors—doctor’s offices, train stations, and hospital lobbies. 
So, what is waiting, really? Is it fulfilling? Is it productive? Or is it just that nagging sense of "something better could be happening right now, but here I am instead"? Well, I say waiting is the great unifier, the ultimate reminder that the universe doesn’t run on our schedules. And whether we like it or not, we’ve all mastered the fine art of standing (or sitting) still, doing absolutely nothing, and calling it... progress.
Think about it. Waiting is 🌼everywhere🌼. It’s omnipresent, like Wi-Fi but with way fewer bars. Whether you're waiting for a train, waiting for a text back, or waiting for the microwave to stop holding your food hostage, waiting is life’s version of a pause button. And just when you think you’re about to hit "play"—boom—you're waiting again.

Take my day, for example. I went to a doctor for a second opinion about a loved one. Naturally, the waiting began long before I even stepped into the lobby. The loved one was waiting at home for my call, I was waiting at the doctor’s office, and every other patient was waiting for their turn. We were like a beautifully choreographed dance troupe, each waiting for our cue to step forward... only with much more sighing and clock-watching. You could feel the collective hope in the air: maybe, just maybe, their number would be called before mine. 

You see, waiting is an exercise in 🌸optimism🌸. While you wait, there’s a shred of hope, a belief that things will turn out just fine. Whether it’s a medical diagnosis, a train’s arrival, or a life-changing email, we *hope* for the best while accepting that we’re powerless to make it happen any faster. During that wait, you don’t feel like a failure. In fact, you’re doing something incredibly productive—dreaming up an imaginary future where everything goes your way!

But let's not kid ourselves, waiting can also be a bit of a wild card. Sometimes, it’s as annoying as having a mosquito in your bedroom at 3 a.m., and other times, it’s downright beautiful, like when you're waiting outside a delivery room, counting down the seconds until you can hear the first cry of a newborn. Other times, it's like waiting outside the operating theater—those moments when you’re balancing optimism on a knife’s edge, knowing the future is teetering between hope and heartbreak.

Then, there’s the more mundane type of waiting—take the train station, for example. You’re waiting for the train to arrive, and someone else is waiting for you to arrive on that train. There’s an intricate web of interconnected waits, and it’s all happening in real time. I mean, who would’ve thought we’re all involved in the world’s most uninteresting synchronised sport?

But while waiting is often irritating, it’s also kind of hilarious when you think about it. Like, how many times have you anxiously watched the microwave count down, as if those last 10 seconds of potato-reheating will determine the course of your evening? Or how about when you get stuck in traffic? You’re simultaneously waiting for the car in front of you to move, while the person behind you is waiting for the same thing—everyone just waiting on everyone else like some kind of human domino effect.
In the hospital, you have people waiting for a new life to begin while, tragically, others wait for life to end. Yet somehow, in that same hospital, you also have people waiting for a doctor’s note to excuse them from work because, let’s be real, they just need a break. The spectrum of waiting is as wide as it is unpredictable. It’s a paradox—**waiting is both everything and nothing at once.** 

And yet, despite its frustrations, waiting is a quiet act of faith. It’s believing that something 🪻Will🪻happen, eventually. In a world where we're always trying to fast-forward, waiting reminds us that sometimes, you just have to sit back, relax, and let life come to you—whether it’s good news, bad news, or just the next train.
So, here’s to waiting! May we all continue this timeless practice. Keep waiting, keep hoping, and in the meantime—keep living. After all, life is just one big waiting room, and we’re all just waiting for our number to be called.🍀

BY GEETA BHANWALA 

Karwa Chauth: A Timeless Tradition

 

Karwa Chauth: A Timeless Tradition

A Journey of 22 Years

As I sit here, preparing for my 22nd Karwa Chauth, it's hard to believe how time has flown. While the ritual and the excitement remain the same, the experience has evolved in subtle yet significant ways.

The initial fervour of my first Karwa Chauth was undeniable. The fasting, the prayers, the anticipation – it was all a whirlwind of emotions. But over the years, I've noticed a shift. The showiness has given way to a deeper, more profound sense of faith. The focus has shifted from material possessions to the intangible bond we share.

While the experiences leading up to each Karwa Chauth may vary, the day itself often holds a remarkable consistency.No matter what challenges or disagreements may have arisen in the preceding days, the dawn of Karwa Chauth brings with it a sense of renewal and hope. The day, marked by fasting, prayers, and the moonlit ritual, serves as a reminder of the unwavering love and commitment shared between husband and wife.

Each Karwa Chauth has its own unique story, shaped by the experiences we've shared together. The challenges we've faced, the joys we've celebrated – they've all contributed to the richness of our relationship. And with each passing year, my gratitude for having you in my life has only deepened.

As I look forward to another Karwa Chauth, I'm filled with a sense of peace and contentment. The journey has been long, but it's been beautiful. And I'm truly blessed to have you by my side.

In the Still of the Night

 In the stillness of night, dreams drifted away,

A peaceful embrace in the gentle display.

Then a sound, sharp and jarring, tore through the calm,

A message of urgency, a sudden alarm.

From screens lit with worry, a panic arose,

I stirred in my slumber, my heart felt the throes.

Then a call pierced the silence, a voice full of dread,

"Your son has met trouble; he’s hurt, it is said."

In a flash, we were racing, hearts heavy with fear,

Parents lost in a whirlwind, where hope disappeared.

No car to be found, just a night painted bleak,

We called out for help, but the silence was deep.

Then a rickshaw appeared, like a beacon of light,

With hope in our hearts, we clung to the night.

Through the dark streets we sped, each moment a plea,

Praying for solace, for safety, for thee.

We reached the cold hospital, fear gripping our chests,

And there you lay, broken, yet still you were blessed.

In pain, you were present, a sight we could bear,

For you came to us, son, through your courage laid bare.

Together we fought, with love as our shield,

A bond forged in crisis, our hearts gently healed.

From shadows of sorrow, we found a way home,

In the warmth of your presence, we knew we were whole.

BY GEETA BHANWALA