Don't Wait For The Right Time
Uddalaka dissolves a pinch of salt in water and asks Shvetaketu to taste from the top, middle, and bottom; the salt is invisible yet present everywhere (Chandogya Upanishad). Care is like that, unseen but pervasive when offered in time. On a cluttered Tuesday, I stepped out between meetings and rang my mother, two minutes that changed the flavour of the whole day. The reminder is simple: the salt only works once it is dropped in. Affection, apology, and attention do not season a relationship while they sit on the side. We talk about relationships as if they are gardens waiting for the first perfect rain. ‘When things calm down, I will call.’ ‘When I am less busy, we will meet.’ ‘When I have found the right words, I will apologise.’ We keep postponing the tenderness that makes us human, convinced the right time will arrive, like my father, who used to be back home at exactly 10.20 a.m. after his college class. It rarely does. Life tends to arrive slightly late, a little messy, and...