Today I witnessed something that stayed with me longer than I expected.
In that home, every member contributes to the small cloud kitchen they run. It is not just a business -it feels like a shared effort, almost like each person is offering a piece of themselves. Even his 71-year-old mother had been helping by preparing idlis.
She is not an ordinary woman. She raised her son alone, with strength and quiet sacrifice. A life of resilience shaped her. But now, time has begun to soften that strength. Her body is weaker, and her mind is slowly drifting into the fog of dementia.
Today, the idlis she made were not as they used to be. Out of 42, only about 6 could be used. The rest had lost their shape.
I could see the frustration rising within him – not just about the idlis, but perhaps something deeper. Maybe it was the silent pain of seeing his once-strong mother changing day by day.
In a controlled but strained voice, he asked her why they turned out this way and whether anyone would buy such idlis at a high price.
She stood there, trembling. Her eyes filled with tears -not just from the question, but from something unspoken… confusion, helplessness, maybe even the fading memory of who she once was.
In that moment, something shifted. His anger dissolved into regret. He realized that he was not speaking to the same mother who once carried him through life with strength. He was speaking to someone who now needed that same care in return.
Life moves in circles. The roles quietly reverse.
Today felt like a reminder-
Patience is not just kindness,
but understanding the invisible battles others are fighting.
And sometimes, what appears as a mistake… It
is simply time, gently taking its course.
