Sector 49, Gurugram: “Should take about 30 minutes, and then I can continue with the movie. Let’s quickly go get the veggies—if I time it right, I might be back in 20! …oh damn, there’s a jam again! Damn this signal and damn these people jumping the traffic light. Not one person will stop. Now it’ll take 30 minutes just to cross this stupid intersection. You know what, I’ll just get out and scream at these idiots—someone has to fix this mess!”
Ambience Mall: “Why won’t he just move left? Why are people like this—zero awareness. Should I say something? No, wait, he's just scrolling reels like nothing matters!”
McDonald’s Drive-through, Eros Mall: “Is she really reading the whole menu? It’s been the same since 2009! Great, now they’re arguing about the Happy Meal! We were ready with our order 5 minutes after leaving home! Why can’t people just plan!”
Airia Mall, Sector 68: “She’s going to try eight dresses. That’s 15 minutes of waiting. Maybe I’ll go check the dishwasher section? Oh great, no network here—I could’ve at least finished a news article or a chapter. And now she wants my opinion. Isn’t this the same dress she wore when we got here? Whatever, just smile and nod…”
Kapashera Toll Booth: “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!”
(If you've ever crossed it on a weekday between 5 and 9 PM, well, you know the feeling)
Welcome inside the mind of an impatient person (this is not about me). Picture them—walking fast, talking fast, "tssk tssk" ing all the way, visibly out of breath. Not trying to hassle anyone—just trying to get things done, check off mental to-do lists, control chaos, or in some cases, get closure (again, not me).
They’re the person juggling a phone call, a laptop, and dinner plans all at once. For them, the race isn’t against others, it’s against unfinished business—the groceries still not bought, the chapter still unread, the task still pending.
But here’s the catch: this constant chase often leads to irritation, raised tempers, and sometimes, a strange silence—as if the system has overheated and needs a hard reboot (this is definitely not me).
The tale of Barbarik, the grandson of Bheem, offers an almost poetic explanation for impatience. Barbarik was no ordinary warrior—he was blessed with three arrows that made him undefeatable. His promise? To always fight on the side that was weaker in battle.
But there was a flaw. With his strength, whichever side he joined would end up becoming the stronger one. His arrows would then switch sides, again and again, creating an endless loop. Ultimately, it meant no resolution, just Barbarik standing alone amidst the wreckage.
To break this cycle, Krishna asked Barbarik to sacrifice himself. And he did. It was the pinnacle of irony that the warrior who could have ended the Mahabharat within seconds ended up watching the entire war unfold, only his head remaining atop a hill.
And here’s where it gets even more interesting. Barbarik, the impatient, battle-ready force, transforms over time into Khatu Shyam Ji, a deity associated with devotion, surrender, and grace in the northern part of India. The phrase "Haare ka Sahara" (translated: supporter of the weak), is associated with Khatu Shyam ji, signifying that the unbeatable power remains, but the method has changed.
In a world chasing speed, stillness has power. Probably, the highest form of power. That clarity emerges not from control, but from letting go. That sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is—wait.
So, What’s the Point?
Impatience isn’t always about poor time management. Sometimes, it’s about the restless need to resolve, to fix, to close the loop. And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to not fix everything. Its ok to not be efficient, every time.
After all, if Barbarik could hold back, so can we—at the traffic light, in the shopping queue, or when someone takes a moment longer to choose their Happy Meal.
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