I never really asked why. I simply listened, followed what elders said, trusted their rhythms.
“Early to bed, early to rise…”
“The best time to pray is before sunrise…”
I accepted it all quietly and tried to live by it. Only recently did I begin to understand why.
It wasn’t just discipline. It was the world they were living in. There was a time when society moved in a shared rhythm. Mornings began gently, nights settled early, and between the two there was a certain order, almost a collective agreement. And in those early hours, there was stillness. Real stillness.
No traffic.
No constant noise.
No restless movement on roads, in the air, or in the mind.
In that silence, perhaps intentions didn’t have to struggle to be heard.
Prayers, practices (by instrumentalists, vocalists, dancers, sports enthusiasts, yoga practitioners and alike) and focus travelled cleanly. And more than that, they multiplied. Like a relay, or a quiet marathon of energies, where meditators, priests, artists in their riyaaz, and seekers all contributed to the same unseen current. Maybe that’s what made those hours powerful.
Today, the world is different. The silence is thinner, the pace louder.
But still, keep praying, keep practicing, keep thinking and acting in ways that serve something larger than ourselves.
Even if there is a delay, the right intentions still find their way.
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