The Spaces Between All That I Do

Hello, dear readers. I am back again, returning to my little world of words, Babyla's World. It has been a while since my last post on 4 August, when I revisited and refined a piece I had originally written back in 2014. For as long as I can remember, writing has been my way of making sense of the thoughts and feelings I carry within me. I have always believed that writing helps calm my anxious mind, and I find the process deeply therapeutic. I have never been very good at keeping things to myself. Keeping a diary has been an integral part of my life since childhood. Over the years, however, blogging has gradually taken the place of those handwritten pages. This little blog has become my space to pour out my thoughts, untangle my feelings, preserve memories, and sometimes simply write without having to make sense to anyone but myself.

Perhaps that is why, even after a long pause, I keep finding my way back here. Days have slipped by, routines have taken over, and thoughts have kept gathering in the corners of my mind, waiting to be written. Today, I thought it was time to return to this familiar space, reconnect with you, and share a little of what life has been like lately. So, here I am, with another story to tell!

There is something about routines. They slowly become a part of our lives, almost without us realising how much they begin to define our days. Before we know it, we are waking up at the same time, following the same sequence of activities, attending to the same responsibilities and going to bed, only to begin all over again the following morning.

Since 1 September 2026, my days have followed a rather predictable pattern. Predictable, perhaps, but certainly not uneventful. My mornings begin at 5 am, every single day, including weekends. There is no negotiating with the alarm or the occasional luxury of sleeping in. I wake up and make sure Zamin is up too, so she can get ready for her tuition. By 5.30 am, I am usually out for my morning walk, which continues until 7 am.

Some mornings begin beneath a moonlit sky, long before the world wakes up.

An important part of this morning ritual is circumambulating the chorten while chanting mantras. It is more than just a walk or a religious practice for me; it is a time when I feel connected to something greater than myself. The stillness of the early morning, the rhythm of my footsteps, and the familiar sound of the mantras keep me grounded. They remind me that the universe, the Creator, and divine energy are all around us, even when we are too caught up in our everyday lives to notice.

Sometimes, the universe has its own beautiful ways of reminding us that we are never alone.

These quiet moments also give me space to reflect on the purpose and meaning of life and my own existence in this lifetime. I seek solace, strength, and guidance from the divine, especially when I feel lost, overwhelmed, or uncertain about the path I am taking. I pray to be guided in the right direction and, if I happen to stray from it, to be made aware of my mistakes and find the courage to correct them. Above all, I pray that I may understand and fulfil the purpose of my being here on this earth. I ask for the strength to remain grounded, to keep my words kind and my intentions pure, and to be mindful of my thoughts and actions. I pray that I do not speak ill of others, harbour unkind thoughts, listen to harmful words, or cause harm to anyone, knowingly or unknowingly.

My prayers extend beyond my own life, too. I pray for my departed loved ones, wishing for their peaceful transition into a better realm and freedom from the suffering of samsara. I pray for the well-being of all sentient beings, wherever they may be. And, of course, there is always a special place in my prayers for Precious. I know she is a voiceless little being, guided by her natural instincts as a hunter. Still, given her little hunting adventures involving insects, lizards and the occasional bird, I often find myself asking for forgiveness on her behalf, too. I pray that she may be blessed with a better rebirth and a more fortunate existence in her next lifetime. She may be a little hunter in this life, but she is also my beloved companion, and she is always included in my prayers and good thoughts. After all, a mother's prayers have room for everyone, including her four-legged child.

My little constant in an ever-busy world.

There is something deeply comforting about these early morning walks. The stillness, the cool air, and the gradual awakening of the world offer me a little breathing space before the day begins demanding my attention. I have also developed a habit of looking up at the sky almost as much as I look at the road ahead. Some mornings, I am greeted by beautiful colours, unusual cloud formations or even a rainbow stretching across the sky. Naturally, my phone comes out to capture these moments. I suppose I have become something of an amateur sky enthusiast, collecting little pieces of beauty whenever I can. There is something rather lovely about beginning the day with a reminder that the world is much bigger than the list of things waiting for me.

But that little pocket of calm rarely lasts long. Before I know it, it is time to head home and switch into another routine. Breakfast needs to be prepared, lunch packed, and both Zamin and I have to get ready for the day. There is usually a fair amount of rushing around, checking things, remembering things, and making sure neither of us leaves anything behind. Before I know it, I am on my way to college, ready to take on another busy day.

Quality control, as always. Mama's breakfast needs inspecting.

Today, however, brought a little change to the usual routine. Zamin's trial examinations came to an end, and she dropped by my office to have lunch with me. Having her as my lunchtime companion was such a simple but lovely treat. It was nice to have a little time together in the middle of an otherwise busy workday. Sometimes, it is these small, unexpected moments that make an ordinary day feel special.

A little lunch date with Zamin, right in the middle of a busy workday.

And then begins the other half of my day. Preparing lessons, teaching classes, consulting students, attending to academic matters, and completing the countless responsibilities that come with being a lecturer and programme leader. There is always something waiting to be done. A lesson to prepare, a student to guide, a document to review, a deadline to meet, or an issue that needs attention. Even when one task is completed, another seems to be waiting patiently for its turn.

By the time I get home, usually around 5 pm, the day is far from over. There is a house to clean, dinner to prepare, and the usual household chores that cannot exactly be postponed indefinitely. Somewhere between cooking, tidying up, and getting things in order, the evening quietly slips away. We have dinner, and then I try to make some time for Precious. After all, Her Highness deserves her share of attention, affection and whatever little entertainment she expects from her hooman mama. Watching her go about her little cat routines, finding her favourite resting spots or simply lounging around as though the world has no pressing deadlines is oddly therapeutic. Sometimes, I think she has mastered the art of living much better than I have.

Her favourite way of spending a sunny afternoon.

I am also fortunate to have a lovely view right from my home. Living on the third floor has its little privileges, especially when it comes to enjoying the sky. My bedroom faces east, welcoming the morning sunlight and allowing me to soak in some natural Vitamin D as the day begins. My balcony, on the other hand, faces west, offering a wonderful view of the setting sun and the magnificent golden-orange sky in the evenings. All I have to do is keep the curtains in my bedroom and living room open and let the sunlight pour in. I get to enjoy the warmth of the morning sun in my bedroom and watch the sky put on its evening show from my living room. It is such a simple pleasure, but one I never seem to tire of.

Evening skies are best enjoyed in royal company.

A girl, her sky and a few moments of stillness.

Even the moon finds its way into my little world.

I have always had an inexplicable fascination with the sky, but lately, I seem to be even more captivated by it. The westering sun, the fading golden light, and the clouds slowly changing colours as evening draws to a close never fail to catch my attention. I often find myself stepping out onto the balcony, phone in hand, trying to capture these fleeting moments. I sometimes wonder how many photographs of sunsets and skies one person can possibly take. Apparently, there is no limit! Yet, no photograph ever quite captures the beauty of the moment or how it makes me feel. Perhaps that is why I keep taking them. It is my little way of holding on to the beauty of an ordinary day, even as another busy one comes to an end.

Every sunset feels like a little piece of magic.

A little golden happiness, right outside my window.

And then, of course, there are books. Oh, the books! My love for reading is probably one of the longest-standing obsessions of my life. I have always believed that reading is as essential to me as breathing. Growing up in the 1990s, when digital devices and screen distractions were not part of our everyday lives, I was almost always glued to a book. I would devour books with the appetite of a gluttonous reader, often losing track of time as I immersed myself in one story after another. Thankfully, my parents and teachers always encouraged this love for reading, and I am grateful that it became such an integral part of who I am.

It is also one habit I am determined to pass on to Zamin. As her primary guardian, I would be more than happy to see her inherit my good habits, but I must admit that I would take it rather personally if she did not develop a love for reading and books. I want her to grow up as a genuine book lover. This is one non-negotiable trait I hope she will carry with her, and she knows it very well. 

My fascination with Japanese literature began when my high school best friend introduced me to Haruki Murakami's 1Q84 trilogy. That introduction opened a door to a whole new literary world for me, and there has been no looking back since. The rest, as they say, is history. Over time, I have developed quite an obsession with Japanese literature, and my reading list seems to grow much faster than my reading time.

One thing I particularly love about Japanese literature is the way it captures the little things in life. Ordinary moments, fleeting encounters, quiet afternoons, the changing seasons and the simplest human emotions are often portrayed with such tenderness and depth that they make me pause and appreciate the beauty of everyday living. And then, there are the cats! I have come across some wonderfully endearing feline characters in Japanese literature, and every time a cat appears in a story, my heart warms a little. Ever since I adopted Precious in March 2022, I have come to see the world through the eyes of a feline mother. Perhaps that is why I find myself relating to these little literary companions and the affection, curiosity, and quiet mischief they bring to a story. Needless to say, whenever a book features a cat, it earns a little extra place in my heart.

I keep discovering Japanese authors and stories that make me want to put everything else aside and disappear into their worlds for a while. The trouble, of course, is finding enough time to read them. I often have to steal a few pages between tasks or before bedtime, when what I really want is an uninterrupted stretch of time with a good book and absolutely nothing else demanding my attention.

Between prayers and pages, a little world of my own.

Unfortunately, my daily schedule rarely allows for the long, uninterrupted reading hours I so desperately crave. So, I squeeze in a few pages whenever I can, between tasks, during a quiet moment, or just before falling asleep. Sometimes, I manage only a handful of pages before exhaustion takes over. Other times, I find myself wishing I could stay awake a little longer just to finish another chapter. My reading list continues to grow, and I suspect my obsession with Japanese books is nowhere near coming to an end.

I often fantasise about taking a long, long break with nothing on my calendar except books waiting to be read. Better still, I would love to spend entire days bedrotting with Precious curled up beside me, a good book in my hands and absolutely no obligations waiting in the background. Just the two of us, occasionally interrupted by a cup of coffee or perhaps a little feline fuss. What a beautiful luxury that would be! If only life would allow me such indulgence.

Excuse me, who gave this book permission to occupy my bed?

My favourite reading companion, with a mind of her own.

By 8 or 9 pm, however, reality catches up with both Zamin and me. We are usually fast asleep, not because we have deliberately decided to turn in early, but simply because we are exhausted. Our bodies have had enough, and sleep becomes less of a choice and more of a necessity.

Interestingly, this has also brought about a rather unexpected change in my nights. I used to be someone who would lie awake replaying the day's events, overthinking the smallest details and overanalysing conversations long after they had ended. The endless tossing and turning, waiting for sleep to finally visit me, now feels like a distant memory. Sometimes, I wonder if that person was even me or some former alter ego who seemed to have an endless supply of energy for worrying through the night. Doomscrolling, too, has become a thing of the past. For the last two months, physical exhaustion has been winning this battle quite convincingly. There simply isn't enough energy left for late-night scrolling or elaborate overthinking. These days, my head touches the pillow, and sleep takes over before my mind has the chance to start its usual midnight deliberations. Perhaps this is one of the unexpected blessings of my new routine, even if my body occasionally wishes I would give it a little more breathing space.

The next morning, the alarm goes off at 5 am all over again. Interestingly, this routine has brought about some positive changes. My sleep has improved considerably, and I have noticed an improvement in my mental well-being too. The morning walks have become something I genuinely look forward to, and having a more structured routine has given my days a certain rhythm. In many ways, I feel better than I did before. Yet, lately, I have also been feeling physically exhausted. More than that, I have begun to realise just how hurried my days have become. It feels as though I am constantly moving from one task to another, trying to fit everything into the limited hours available. I wake up, prepare, walk, cook, work, teach, attend to responsibilities, clean, cook again, read a few pages, spend time with Precious and finally fall asleep. There is hardly any breathing space between one activity and the next. Life seems to have become a series of things to get done.

And somewhere in between all that doing, I find myself wondering when I get to simply be. It is not that I dislike my routine. In fact, there are so many parts of it that I cherish. I enjoy my morning walks, love having Zamin around and being part of her everyday life, and find fulfilment in my work despite its fair share of demands. And then there is Precious, who occupies a rather irreplaceable place in my world. I absolutely adore her and her little ways, but my love for her goes far beyond adoration. I need her like a fish needs water to survive. She is my little shadow, my comfort and my daily dose of happiness. I honestly cannot imagine my world without her. I also love discovering new books, particularly those by Japanese authors, and could spend hours watching the sky from my balcony. These are the little things that make life beautiful, and they are not things I want to give up. Perhaps what I miss is having enough time to enjoy them without constantly looking at the clock.

I miss the idea of reading a book without calculating how many pages I can finish before the next responsibility calls. I miss slow afternoons, unhurried mornings and evenings that do not feel like a countdown to bedtime. I miss doing things simply because I want to, rather than because they need to be done. Sometimes, I long for a day when there is nowhere I urgently need to be and nothing waiting to be ticked off a list. Perhaps this is what growing older is also teaching me: that a productive day and a fulfilling day are not necessarily the same thing. Looking after our physical and mental well-being involves more than getting enough sleep, exercising regularly and maintaining a disciplined routine. It also means allowing ourselves the luxury of time, space and stillness.

I suppose I am at a point where I am learning to appreciate discipline while recognising the need for gentleness. I want to be responsible without feeling perpetually rushed, productive without measuring every day by how much I have accomplished, and disciplined without allowing my entire life to become one long routine. Maybe I do not need a completely different life. Maybe I just need a little more breathing space within the one I already have. A little more time for books, especially those Japanese novels I keep adding to my reading list; a few more unhurried mornings and walks beneath beautiful skies; more evenings watching the westering sun from my balcony; and more time simply being with Zamin and Precious without having to glance at the clock.

I want to continue collecting photographs of beautiful skies, discovering stories between the pages of books and finding joy in the little things that make ordinary days special. I just wish I did not have to squeeze all of them into the leftover spaces of an already full day. For now, the alarm will probably continue to ring at 5 am. There will still be breakfast to prepare, lunches to pack, lessons to teach, responsibilities to attend to, and a household to look after. Life, after all, does not always wait until we feel rested. But I hope I learn to find more of myself in the spaces between all that I do.

Because I do not simply want to get through my days. I want to notice them, savour them and, most importantly, truly live them. I want to look back and remember not just how much I managed to accomplish, but also the little moments that made an ordinary day beautiful. And perhaps, as I learn to make a little more breathing space for myself, I will come to appreciate that life is not measured only by all that we do, but also by the moments we pause to enjoy, the people we hold close, and the simple joys we allow ourselves to experience along the way.