There is an unmistakable impatience that often defines everyday life in India—an impatience so deeply ingrained that it cuts across class, education, and even context. It is visible not only in crowded streets and marketplaces but also in places meant for silence, discipline, and reflection.
Over time, this restless urgency has quietly altered the spirit of both civic behaviour and spiritual practice, reducing meaningful acts into hurried routines. In doing so, it often places us in embarrassing situations, especially in the eyes of outsiders who observe us with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
Take, for instance, the act of circumambulation (parikrama) in temples. Traditionally, it is meant to be a slow, meditative walk around the sanctum—a gesture of humility and devotion. However, what one frequently witnesses is a race against numbers. Devotees, instead of immersing themselves in prayer, seem preoccupied with completing a fixed count—one, five rounds, or more. In their urgency, they push past others, break queues, and at times even brush aside elderly worshippers. The sacred act loses its essence and becomes a mechanical exercise. The question is no longer about spiritual connection but about numerical completion.
Take another example, When ‘devotees’ undertake the recitation of a paath (religious recitation) a certain number of times, the focus often shifts from understanding the message to merely finishing the count. Words that are meant to inspire thought and guide conduct are rushed through, sometimes without even being fully read or understood. One often sees people flipping pages hurriedly, or reciting while distracted—on a scooter, in a moving vehicle, or while engaged in other tasks—finding satisfaction only when the numerical target is achieved. The devotion becomes secondary; the number becomes primary.
This impatience is equally evident in everyday public behaviour. At airports and railway stations boarding gates are often crowded long before boarding begins. Despite clear announcements and assigned seating or zones, passengers gather near the entrance, jostling for position. The irony is that this crowding delays the process further, causing discomfort to everyone involved.
Public transport offers another example. When a train arrives, passengers often attempt to board before others have alighted. The result is a chaotic push-and-pull, with luggage, people, and tempers colliding. It is a moment where a simple act of patience—waiting a few seconds—could ensure ease for all, yet the instinct is to rush.
Queues, which are a simple test of civic discipline, frequently turn into displays of subtle aggression. Whether at a ticket counter, a billing desk, or even a public facility, there is a constant urge to edge forward, to occupy just a little more space, to gain a slight advantage. The unwritten rule seems to be: if there is a gap, fill it—regardless of whether it disrupts order. For someone observing from outside, it sends a message of impatience overpowering fairness.
A similar contradiction unfolds daily on our roads. At traffic signals, even when the light is red, vehicles creep forward inch by inch, as if violating the stop line might somehow reduce waiting time. Two-wheelers, auto rickshaws snake their way to the very front, cars follow, and within seconds, the entire order collapses. Ironically, when the signal turns green, instead of a smooth flow, chaos erupts—drivers honk aggressively, pressuring those ahead. The impatience that led them to jump the signal now prevents them from moving efficiently. It is disorder born out of haste.
At fuel stations, instead of waiting for their turn, drivers often try to approach from multiple sides, creating confusion for attendants. At toll plazas, vehicles switch lanes repeatedly, assuming another line is moving faster, only to create bottlenecks that slow everyone down. The collective loss of time far outweighs the imagined personal gain.
All these examples point towards a deeper pattern— a constant rush, but often without clarity about what is being achieved.
The consequences are not merely personal; they are collective and reputational. For foreign visitors, such behaviour often becomes a defining impression. Whether it is the chaos at religious places, traffic signals, the disorder in queues, or the rush in public spaces, it creates an image of a society unwilling to pause, reflect, or follow basic norms. While they may admire India’s culture, heritage, and diversity, these everyday scenes often leave them puzzled—and at times amused. The smirk of a tourist observing a chaotic boarding queue or a signal being ignored is not just a reaction; it is a reflection of how we are perceived.
One of the most effective ways to address this issue is through education. Discipline is not an instinct; it is a habit cultivated over time. Schools must go beyond textbooks and actively instill values of patience, order, and respect for rules. Simple practices—standing in queues, waiting for one’s turn, —should be emphasized as essential life skills, not optional courtesies. Activities that encourage mindfulness, such as silent reading or meditation, can also help children develop the ability to slow down and focus.
Equally important is the role of enforcement. Laws and rules lose their significance when they are not implemented consistently. In the context of traffic, strict penalties for jumping signals, honking unnecessarily, or violating lane discipline must be enforced without exception. Technology can play a crucial role here—automated cameras, e-challans, and real-time monitoring can reduce human discretion and ensure accountability. When people know that violations will have consequences, behaviour gradually changes.
At an personal level, change begins with awareness. Recognizing the value of patience in everyday actions—waiting at a signal, respecting a queue, can gradually transform behaviour. These may appear to be small acts, but collectively, they define the character of a society.
In the realm of spirituality, a return to meaning is essential. Devotion is not about how many times a prayer is recited, but how deeply it is felt. A single mindful recitation carries more weight than repeated mechanical utterances. Religious institutions and leaders can play a role in reinforcing this message, encouraging quality over quantity.
Patience is not a sign of weakness; it is a mark of discipline and maturity. It reflects the ability to control impulse, to respect others, and to value process over mere outcome.