WHAT DOES 'PATIENCE' MEAN TO YOU? - A THOUGHT COMPILATION FROM SELECTED WRITERS
It's the first month of the year - the month of new beginnings and, new resolutions and new looks. And also, the month where every two days you look up and say, 'What? It's still January!'. I always find myself needing a huge dollop of patience to get through this year, hence the theme for the first Inkspire Thought Compilation of the year - 'Patience'.
"In 500 words or less, what does 'patience' mean to you?" I asked the writers on my feed. And as always, each had their own take.
Cover photograph and writing by Nishand Venugopal
On Instagram as @nishandvenugopal
***
Patience is my lover
In the hush of the railway station,
She stands, a figure lost in thought,
A gentle breeze stirs her hesitation,
As time's embrace is softly sought.
A sketchbook cradled in her hand,
Her eyes trace lines of worlds unknown,
And in her bag, a poem's strand,
Her heart a verse, her soul a tone.
The trains rush by with fleeting speed,
But she, unmoved, will never tire,
For in the quiet of her need,
She kindles a slow, steady fire.
A gulmohar flower falls, alight,
Its petals like a flame of gold,
She takes it, her heart soft and bright,
To keep it close, a story told.
Each week she waits beneath the sky,
For a moment when their gazes meet,
Her love a silent, whispered sigh,
Her patience, calm, a steady beat.
She dreams of the touch of his eyes,
Of words unsaid, but deeply known,
In the rhythm of her quiet sighs,
She waits, as time continues to grow.
To simply be with him—no haste,
Not in the rush of fleeting hours,
But in the stillness of love's grace,
Where patience blooms like waiting flowers.
She cradles time, slow and serene,
Not longing for a perfect hour,
But cherishing the space between,
Where love grows softly, like a flower.
By Subhashini R
On Instagram as @myquirkywritingproject
***
The secret ingredient is 'Patience.'
I feel the sticky chill against my palms as I try shaping a perfect vase. Clay is supposed to be therapeutic. I wish I could agree. I futilely try moulding the perfect vase. I look around, curious to see how it's going with the others. I see peaceful smiles and undivided attention. People around me seem adept at this.
"Why did I want to try this?" I ask myself for the fifth time. Everyone seems to be doing a wonderful job. Everyone, except me.
"I think I should start from scratch. I wonder if that would make it any better? Maybe I take it slow?" I ask myself.
"Hah! Slow and steady... Like life!" The imaginary Master Shifu in my head speaks up. "This clay is just like your life. You could mould it however you want to, yet here you are, looking at what others are doing. You aren't focussing on what you should be doing!"
"Gah! I just feel annoyed when I don't get it right the first time!" I hear my mind retorting.
"But you aren't in any race, are you? What is there to get annoyed? You are in your own lane. How can you make it worthwhile if you plan to travel with the baggage of annoyance?" the imaginary Master Shifu asks.
I pause and wonder... I honestly don't have an answer.
"Maybe you take it slow?" Master Shifu echoes my question as a suggestion. "With the clay and with life..."
"I wish it was that easy!" I hear myself saying out loud. I see a few heads turn to look at me. I busy myself by looking down at the shapeless vase in my hand.
I wonder if I could pass it off as a pen stand instead of a vase. Maybe it still needs a touch of something...
"The secret ingredient is... Patience," a clearly exasperated Shifu goes on, "You need it everywhere - this vase, yourself, your life, with the people around you and in all situations of life!"
The sticky chill of the clay now smells like petrichor. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The smell of earth fills my lungs and brain. The imaginary Master Shifu isn't talking anymore. But the word 'patience' keeps ringing in my ear. I open my eyes and slowly start shaping the vase with love and care.
By Ragini Ravichandran
On Instagram as @ragini.ravich
***
The Triumph of Patience
The path of patience is not without struggle. Frustration will rise like a tide, tempting you to abandon the wait. The world will tell you to act, to push forward without pause. But patience whispers that some things cannot be rushed. The seeds you plant will bloom only when their time comes, and no amount of force will hasten their growth. The impatient man will dig them up, searching for progress, only to find ruin. The patient one will trust in the unseen, tending to the soil, waiting for the first green shoots.
Patience teaches you to endure, but it also teaches you to see. To be patient is to notice what others overlook—the slow transformation, the quiet victories. It is in the stillness that life reveals itself, in the spaces between actions where meaning takes root. Patience is not merely waiting; it is watching, learning, and growing. It is the steady rhythm of life unfolding.
And then, one day, the wait ends. The child understands the lesson. The seed becomes a tree. The effort becomes a victory. And the patient man stands not in triumph over others but over himself. He has endured the slow weight of time, and in doing so, he has built something lasting. He has learned that patience is not a delay but a preparation. It is the work that shapes the future.
The triumph of patience is not loud or sudden. It comes quietly in the realisation that the path you chose—the more arduous, slower one—has led you to something greater than what haste could ever have given. It is not the absence of struggle but the mastery of it. It is the unseen work, the unnoticed effort, and in the end, it is what carries you forward, not in haste but with purpose.
By Nitin Arvind
On Instagram as @nitinarvind
***
What does 'Patience' mean to you?
With a mouth full of food, the baby blew raspberries.
The mother just smiled, cleaning up the mess with ease.
She fell off the cycle seven times, trying to find her way.
The father ran beside her, steady and calm, until she could ride one day.
Subtraction felt like a puzzle, full of crosses and doubts.
But her friend made it fun, helping her figure it out.
In the lab, the pipette and burette seemed like a chore.
But with songs and laughter, the gang made it less of a bore.
Long queues for train tickets felt like a trial to endure,
Until Rahman and Harris turned waiting into something pure.
Missed calls were a joy, stolen moments in the night,
As love grew in whispers, waiting for the timing to be right.
The title of “significant other” took time and care,
But patience made the journey a love they could share.
The wedding was simple, but the marriage was a test,
Learning to grow together, giving their very best.
Anger and sadness came, as they often do,
But love held them steady
Editor's Note:
I want to thank all the writers who responded to this prompt. I loved reading your interpretations, and I'm sure the readers will, too.
For other writers looking for prompts, stay tuned to "Storytelling with Shweta" on Instagram, where I post writing tips, book recommendations and more for aspiring writers or those looking to make the space for writing in their lives.
The next writing call will be out in the second week of February 2025. So do stay tuned.
Till then, keep writing!
Storyteller-in-chief, Inkspire.
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