When I think of stillness, I think of my grandfather sitting quietly on the old sofa. No book in hand, no conversation needed, no restless tapping of fingers. Just sitting. Watching the world move around him with a calm detachment.
He was not bored. He was not lost. He was simply… there. Whole and happy in his own company.
As a child, I did not quite understand it. But I remember how just looking at him made me feel anchored, safe. Years later, in Mumbai, I found that same feeling again — among strangers. If you wandered near the Asiatic Library or along Marine Drive at the right time of the day, you would see them — people just sitting. On the wide stone steps, on the seawall, not talking, not scrolling, not performing. Just watching. The sea, the sky, the endless traffic inching along Marine Drive.
I, too, would sometimes sit there for hours, feeling the salt in the air, letting my thoughts rise and fall like the tides. Those were some of my happiest moments. No rush, no noise inside my head. Just me and the moving world. I also remember the deep pleasure of long drives and train journeys, when there was nothing to do but watch the world go by.
Sitting by the window, letting your gaze drift over fields, houses, trees, faces at nameless stations — lost in random, lazy thoughts. Sometimes daydreaming, sometimes thinking of nothing at all.
There was a quiet magic to that kind of travel, where the journey itself was the experience, not just a race to reach somewhere. Now, somewhere along the way, even journeys have changed. Blaring music, endless selfies, constant chatter — these have become the measures of how “beautiful” the ride is. The old quiet joy of simply being with yourself — and with the passing world — feels rarer with each passing year.
Somewhere between then and now, something shifted. Screens crept into our palms, endless chatter into our pockets. Now, even when we are alone, we are not alone. Our solitude is crowded with notifications, scrolling, and noise. The simple act of sitting by oneself — doing nothing, needing nothing — feels almost like a forgotten art.
And yet, it is exactly what we need. When we sit quietly by ourselves — not distracted, not waiting for something — we return to something ancient and true. At first, the mind chatters. Lists, worries, memories tumble through. But if we stay — if we wait patiently, like watching the sea — something beautiful happens. The mind slows. The heart softens. We begin to notice the small things: the weight of our body, the way the sunlight slants across the floor, the simple rhythm of our breath.
Sitting by oneself teaches a secret kind of strength. It teaches us to be with our own selves — without needing to fix, perform, or escape. It teaches us that we are enough. That this moment, this breath, this heartbeat are enough. In a world that keeps shouting, “Do more! Be more!”, sitting quietly by oneself is a quiet rebellion. A return. A remembering. A homecoming.
And maybe — just maybe — it’s the beginning of real peace.
Published – May 25, 2025 04:11 am IST