Life in Anticipation

The bright, hopeful eyes were gleaming. Radhajji was desperately waiting for her son to come home. Not that she was meeting him after a long time, but she'd asked him to buy her a new japamaala. Though she hadn’t explicitly mentioned wanting oranges, she was expecting them. She knew her son would bring her favorite oranges and snacks, as he often did. Yet, Radhajji pretended not to care. But everyone at home could feel her excitement.

"You’re acting as if tomorrow is your birthday, Ajji!" her grandson, Ashish, teased as he dashed inside, his face sweaty and glowing from hours of cricket outdoors.

"Haan?! Burth-a-day??! Radhajji said, confused for a moment before breaking into a wide, toothy smile. “I don’t even know when my burth-a-day is, kanda. I just remember my amma once saying I was born on the eighth day of Vaishakha maasa. If anyone remembered back then, amma would make jaggery and coconut sweets and braid my hair with new red ribbons. But I had to give the ribbons back the next day!” She laughed loudly, showing her few remaining teeth, but Ashish had already run outside before she could finish.

Mallika, her daughter-in-law, stepped into the sit-out, wiping her hands on the edge of her sari. She’d seen her son disappear again in a flash, and her mother-in-law still seated outside, lost in her thoughts. Mallika smiled faintly. “Atte, see these kids, so restless! Ashish ran off before you even noticed him properly. Now, come inside and rest. Your japamaala will reach you soon enough. No need to sit out here all day!” she said warmly, but her tone carried a touch of exasperation.

Without waiting for a reply, Mallika turned back toward the kitchen. The day had been chaotic, and she still had heaps of work to finish. As she walked, she shouted toward Archana’s room, “Archana! Can’t you come out and help me, at least on Sundays?”

Archana, however, didn’t respond. She heard her mother but was far too engrossed in her thoughts. Lying on her bed, phone in hand, she stared at the contest website. Her heart thumped as she refreshed the page, hoping for an update. As a fashion design student with a passion for styling and modeling, she had poured her soul into a recent outfit contest. She was hoping and manifesting that her designs had won the grand prize. Her mother’s call became a faint background noise as anticipation filled her mind.

Life is a melody of expectations. Be it a mother waiting for her son, a girl dreaming of a prize, or a family holding onto their daily rhythms. These moments of hope string together the melody of our lives, giving them rhythm and purpose. Radhajji remained seated in the sit-out, the breeze gently brushing past her silver hair as she gazed down the street. In her mind, she could already see her son walking toward her, a bag of oranges in one hand and the japamaala in the other. Her face glowed with a quiet joy, the kind that only anticipation can bring. For her, the act of waiting was as sweet as the reward itself.

Anticipation is universal. It is not just about the arrival of what we hope for. It’s the journey of waiting, the flutter of dreams, and the gentle moments that lead up to fulfillment. Whether it’s a mother waiting for her child, a student hoping for a prize, or simply the promise of something beautiful on the horizon, anticipation makes life bloom in its own time, filling the pauses with meaning and quiet delight.