For the past few days, I’ve been operating in what I like to call “Juggling Mode.” The occasion? A family wedding of my nephew. Indian weddings are tiring, even when you are not the organizer. I am sitting seriously in a mandap, the priest is chanting sacred hymns, the air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and marigolds. It is a moment of profound tradition and spiritual significance. And I am staring at my WhatsApp, silently praying that the havan fire doesn’t trigger the smoke detector and accidentally join the Zoom call I muted an hour ago. The last few days have been a blur of dhotis and deadlines, of Banana leaf meals and slack new channels. One moment, I’m greeting a never-ending stream of old relatives and the next moment, I’m ducking into a quiet corridor to catch up on a client call. Why put myself through this logistical nightmare? Because I’ve learned that sometimes, you have to leave work to save your life.
For years, I operated under the delusion that the office would crumble without me. That being unavailable for 48 hours was a professional risk. But here’s the truth I rediscovered while balancing a plate of paneer and a presentation deck: Work is sometimes waiting for you to step away. And that’s a good thing. The world doesn’t end when you’re not in the inbox. By showing up for these few days and by being present for the laughter, the chaos, the slightly-too-tight sherwani, and the 1 AM dance-offs with the bride’s younger cousins—I’m investing in the “long term.” The long term where my wife remembers once again that I was there, holding her dupatta during the rituals. The long term where the relatives see me as family, not just “the guy who is always missing in person or always on his phone.” The long term where, years from now, we don’t just have photos of the wedding, but memories of actually being at it. Yes, it was exhausting. Yes, I took a call while sitting on a decorative stool that was definitely not designed for human back support. But I also danced until my shoes fell apart and my feet still hurt.
Think about it – We’re not juggling when we take time out from work for something so profoundly important in the family; we are weaving. We are indeed stitching the embroidery of our careers and our families together, thread by thread, however chaotic. And honestly? It’s a pretty good-looking tapestry. Even with a few whisky stains on it. I encourage everyone to get to do that.
Capt Pappu Sastry/ CEO – ASL Dubai
