No, no one is really 'very' BUSY!

In the last 5 years, I have moved back and forth from my hometown for work. I am finally back. Why am I saying is because with my coming back, my relatives far and wide, while not sure if they are happy to have me back or no, they definitely want to meet me. And I don’t want to. So what do I say – I say I am very busy. So much so that I really have no time to pick up the phone to make a call. I am so busy that I live between office and home.

I have kept up with this excuse for a long time now. I have canceled meeting friends, family and even going out because I am too busy. But am I too busy? No. Yes, I do have a huge, never-ending list of things to do, but I put them on a backburner because I like to think I am too busy. In short, the idea of being ‘too busy’ is a farce. It is an excuse we use in abundance.

Constantly telling ourselves that we are busy is in a way training our mind and body to believe it. It causes us to overthink, leaving little or no space for thinking about ourselves.

How many times have you shouted out aloud – I AM BUSY. Yes, you are and so is everyone.

I am sure each one of has a huge to-do list which has an invisible extension charm as it is ever growing. The point is, everyone is busy but if we have time to be busy, we have time for everything else.

Most of my conversations with (almost anyone) these days start and end as:

X: Hey! How are you?

Me: Hey…hi! I am well. How are you?

X: I am good. Been so long, na?

Me: Yeah…

X: Let’s meet up! Saturday free? Sunday bhi chalega!

Me: No… I am busy. End of the month. Blah. Blah. Blah.

There… I gave out the excuse without even thinking. Constantly thinking we are busy actually makes us procrastinators. We tell ourselves that we are busy is in a way training our mind and body to believe it. It causes us to overthink, leaving little or no space for thinking about ourselves. With so much going on in our head, at work, on the personal front and with us being ‘busy’ we actually don’t end up doing anything. No wonder, the to-do never ends! There is no sense of accomplishment but only that of fatigue – mental, physical.

We cannot blame ourselves entirely. In our day and age ‘busy’ is often equated with hard working and efficient. Busy means putting more than 8 hours at work, browsing and answering emails at night and on holidays. In short, busy means we have no life. We make these sacrifices for our career or so we tell ourselves. Even children today are busy – they juggle school, extracurricular classes, dance, hobby, and God knows what! But at the end of this ‘busy’ tunnel, lies exhaustion.

Often times, we bite into more than we can chew! If one happens to be at work on time and leave at 6 PM, that person doesn’t care about work ethics, they are lazy and unmotivated. But have we really cared to check? What if that one person is the real efficient one?

Sadly, we have been equating success on all levels with being busy. We seek validation for this too and get it. However, this is nothing to be proud of. In our struggle to maintain our busy-ness, we may have overlooked many important details, moments of fun, even sleeping. Busy is not adding anything to our lives.

Try to do this – if an odd cousin calls you out of the blue or if a nagging friend wants to meet up, simply say no if you don’t want to but don’t lie to yourself that you are busy. Busy is boring, it is unreal. Be real. Don’t give into peer pressure or other people’s expectations. Don’t be busy. Do things at your own pace.

Be you. Live more. Do you agree with you?

#Sorry not sorry

I feel sorry for ‘Sorry’ – such an abused term. When you come to think of it, it is just a word, right? It holds significance in some instance and at times, it is a mere excuse. But we humans absolutely love it as an excuse, don’t we? I use this term a lot; I mean a lot! I think of myself as a kind being, and hence, if I happen to push or ignore (deliberate), I say ‘sorry’. I say sorry for things that may not need a ‘sorry’. I say ‘sorry’ to people I am not really feeling sorry for (don’t read this the wrong way). In short, I say ‘sorry’ a lot like I have already admitted. It is my ticket to moving on, a ticket to redeem myself for mistakes and sometimes, tinged with slight sadness (maybe).

But is ‘Sorry’ the right word? Mean, is it even appropriate? Like they say, first you commit the murder and then say sorry. What is the point of it? I would say nothing. Sorry – the term originated from the West Germanic term Sore that evolved to Sarig, meaning pained or distressed. It is also known…

Celebrating Navratri? Stop now as we have no right to worship the female form...

Today my mom asked me to go get fall bidding done for her new saree. Navratri has begun and Durga Pujo is just around the corner. This year we are planning to go Pandal hopping on a Saptami instead of an Ashtami or Navmi to avoid the jams and the crowds. I will wear a saree too and my Punjabi husband will tag along for the delicious food.
In a multicultural household like mine, most festivals are a big deal, especially Navratri and Durga Pujo. But in the hullabaloo of festivities, we don’t stop to think of its essence – why do we celebrate Durga Pujo or Navratri at all. To celebrate Ma Shakti – a prompt answer from my mother. Navratri is a celebration of the nine stages of womanhood – a tribute to the power of the female.But to us commoners, it is a festival of dancing to the tunes of Garba or dandiya or Bollywood music. It is our turn to wear our best clothes, head out in the night, meet family and be merry. And once, this is over, the female form goes back to being what they always a…

I Wonder What Ants do on Rainy Days…

Source: Google Images
On days when the sun has abandoned us, hiding behind the grey, moody clouds. Do they sit inside their hills and wonder out loud? Do they stare outside at the rain, measuring the raindrops, letting thoughts splotch all over? Does the earthy petrichor take them down the memory lane? Or are they content with what nature has to offer? It is a part of their lives, isn’t it? They dredge up foods daily, diligently build their hills, even if it is to serve their queen, only to enjoy it on days like this, no? Maybe they do take stock of things, of their bearings. They ought to sleep it off, take a day to rest or do they lament on the lost time?
Unlike me.
When I gaze out, a gazillion thoughts fly by; some worthy of the pen, some so disturbing that I often question my sanity. I like the grey skies though. They seem like textured canvases waiting for me to scribble something. The lazy raindrops wetting the streets below and casting a temporary stain on window ledges bring a…

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