Soft gestures- A lost trait

At times, I find myself reflecting on people from various eras and childhood times. Their actions, gestures and approaches reveal a genuine care in what they do, clarity of intention, and, most importantly, a sense of belonging as they live their lives. These “lost” actions are rarely “found” these days!

I want to clarify from the start that this blog post isn't about labeling anyone or any period as “perfect"; rather, it's simply my way of sharing how I see the world around me and trying to develop a connection with my past without any judgment.


This write-up is a page from my diary from post-graduation days.

And hence may sound naive (but I am unapologetic)

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Whenever I see my mother getting ready for any long trip, she makes sure everything is perfectly organized, as if she’s packing not just a travel kit, but Mummy's miniature universe of preparedness. It contains not just a safety pin for a sari pallu gone astray or a little pouch of paste for a quick freshen-up on a long journey, but also the thoughtful care she extends to all her family members and fellow beings.

How can I forget Papa's handkerchief, always neatly folded in his pocket – a silent flag of readiness- ready to wipe our tears, mop a brow in the humid heat while he is toiling hard, or even offer to a stranger in need.

Then, around I find people automatically smooth down their hair before greeting guests or entering the senior office, or the respectful way they sit in front of elders, legs tucked, posture composed. I guess, these weren't taught lessons; they were simply felt, a part of the unspoken sanskriti and became part of those actions “automatically”.

My childhood days saw the postmaster bringing chatter from Mausi or Mama bringing tears of joy to Mummy's eyes. That emotion is truly unmatched by the 24/7 availability of phone calls or messages.

Then there were the birthdays or anniversaries celebrated not with grand parties, but simply with family and neighbours, perhaps a small puja at home or a home-cooked meal. The joy of doing puja together… a moment of shared faith and reflection.

The anticipation of summer holidays spent at the grandparents' home, a vibrant chaos of stories, games, and unconditional love. The conscious effort to make ourselves available for family and friends, truly present. And the mandatory, yet effortless, act of keeping positive energy for everyone, offering a warm smile or a word of encouragement.

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And yet today, in our feverish pursuit of "modernity," of an imagined "up-status," we've traded these quiet masterpieces for uneven paintings of bright colors. We've cast off the threads that wove us into a civilised tapestry, becoming unmoored and uncivilised in the name of professionalism or vokism.

The more I have grown, the more I truly long for those smiles of assurance from a stranger that calm a worried mind; the gentle tap of availability that says, "I'm here for you;" the unhurried talks of lives and experiences exchanged over endless cups of chai; the patience to truly listen without the rush of a deadline… the foundations of bhai-chara and apnapan.

I still wonder, “Do these gentle gestures fade away, or is it our responsibility to consciously bring these magical soft gestures back to life?”