Discipline in life
The Journey of Life: A Reflection
As I approach my 74th year, life’s vast landscape unfolds before me, painted with the memories of people who shaped my existence. My heart revisits the corridors of time, where I walked with love, laughter, and the unbreakable bonds of companionship. My parents, whose gentle hands guided my first steps. My grandparents, whose stories whispered the wisdom of the ages. My uncles and aunties, who filled my childhood with warmth and mirth. My school and college friends, whose youthful dreams echoed alongside mine. My colleagues, who stood beside me through the tides of work and ambition. My wife, my anchor, my partner in life’s dance. My daughter, my pride, my legacy of love.
Each moment spent with them feels like a melody etched in time, played by the unseen strings of memory. But time, relentless and unwavering, moves forward. With every passing day, I read the obituary notices of those I once worked with, those I once greeted with a smile. And in their silent departure, I see my own mortality reflected.
Whenever I renew a fixed deposit, I wonder—will I be here when it matures? Will I see another spring, another monsoon, another winter? The thought is neither frightening nor saddening, but a reminder of life’s impermanence. A truth that humbles me.
And so, in the quiet of the night, I turn to music—those golden melodies in Hindi, Malayalam, Tamil, Kannada. Songs that have lived as long as I have, carrying the same emotions I have felt—love, longing, joy, and nostalgia. In those moments, I am neither old nor young; I am simply alive, floating in a sea of memories, immersed in the echoes of the past.
Life has been kind, and it has been challenging. But through it all, I have loved, I have been loved, and I have lived. When my time comes, I shall return to the earth, to the soil, to the cosmos. But until then, I shall cherish every note, every memory, every moment.
For life, after all, is but a beautiful melody—one that lingers, even after the song is over.
The Discipline of Timeliness: A Reflection on Anxiety and Order
In my day-to-day life, I have cultivated the habit of remitting every due and obligation promptly, often on the very first day they are payable. Be it the internet bill, Wi-Fi charges, government land dues, local self-government building taxes, LIC premium, electricity and water bills, income tax, newspaper fees, milk bill, servant’s salary, renewal of bank fixed deposits, or even the submission of the life certificate for my pension—every responsibility is handled with clockwork precision.
Thanks to digital advancement, most of these dues can now be settled online. However, when a service provider’s website falters or a bill isn't posted on time, I find myself slipping into a state of panic. For instance, when my internet service provider failed to post the bill by the usual date, I began checking the website obsessively—every hour—until I finally managed to make the payment at 11 p.m. on the 3rd of the month.
My rational mind advises me that there is ample time to remit most of these dues—sometimes even until the 18th of the month. Yet, an invisible force within me pushes for immediate completion. This anxious urgency is hard to explain. It feels like a deep-rooted need for control, for order, for absolute discipline.
Is this behavior a psychological disorder? Perhaps not a clinical one, but it certainly reflects a state of heightened anxiety driven by a strong need for structure and fear of failure or consequences. It may stem from a life of diligence, from years of striving to overcome challenges and prove oneself capable in every sphere, despite physical limitations. It is not unusual for conscientious individuals to develop a sense of discomfort or fear when systems falter—even momentarily.
But how can I ease this mental tension and restore a sense of calm?
The key may lie in mindful detachment. Gentle reminders to the self that perfection is a virtue, but not a necessity. Embracing a margin for error. Setting internal alarms for dues with a day or two’s delay can offer comfort. Practicing deep breathing or light meditation when anxiety arises. And most importantly, trusting that our intentions matter more than the minute we act.
Life, after all, is not a checklist—it is a journey. And in that journey, some days we will be on time, other days we may stumble. But what matters is that we continue, with grace and compassion toward ourselves.
Even this anxiety, in its own way, is a reflection of love—for discipline, for responsibility, for others who depend on us. And so, I learn not to fight it, but to guide it—gently, patiently—until it finds its peace.
I've added your thoughts about prompt payments and the anxiety you experience when systems fail, along with an analysis of the behavior and ways to manage it. Let me know if you'd like to add personal experiences or further explore this aspect of your personality.