The Delay That Saved Me

In the quiet hills of Tripura, nestled among the bamboo groves and misty mornings, there’s a small tea stall run by an old man named Baba Dhananjoy. It’s just a humble thatched setup—no fancy chairs, no polished counters—just benches made of cane, a flickering stove, and the rich aroma of lebu cha wafting through the air.

Above his stall, hanging beside a faded photograph of Tripura Sundari Temple, is a hand-painted sign in Bengali script:

"যেটা দেরী মনে হয়, সেটাই কখনও কখন আমাদের রক্ষা করে।"("What feels like a delay may sometimes be our protection.")

People from the nearby market stop there for tea and stories. And every once in a while, Baba Dhananjoy tells the one that changed his life.

“It was the morning of Durga Puja, some years ago,” he says, stirring sugar into a bubbling pot. “I was supposed to be on the bus to Guwahati. My sister’s son was getting married. I had packed my bag the night before, laid out my dhoti, and set an early alarm.”

But that morning, something strange happened. His grandson, a quiet little boy, woke up crying from a bad dream. He wouldn't let go of his Dadu. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “Please don’t go today.” It was just a dream, Baba Dhananjoy told himself, but the boy’s eyes clung to him like wet leaves in a monsoon storm.So he stayed.

Later that day, he heard the news. The bus he was meant to be on… had slipped off the winding hill road near Jampui, collapsing into a ravine. There were no survivors.

The tea grows cold in people's hands when they hear the story.

Since that day, Baba never complains when things don’t go according to plan. He doesn’t get angry when the gas delivery is late, or when his kettle whistles too long. He just smiles with a calm only the hills of Tripura can teach, and says:

“সেই সময় বুঝিনি কিছুই, শুধু পালাতে চেয়েছিলাম। এখন বুঝি—জীবন সব সময় ছেড়ে দেয় না, কখনও কখনও ওর নিজস্ব টান থাকে… যেন না পালিয়ে যাই"(“I never thought much of it then. But I understand now—life doesn’t always walk in front of you. Sometimes, it holds you back.”)

So, the next time you’re late catching the auto from Battala, or the rain floods the road to Melaghar, or your dinner burns on the stove—pause.

Maybe it’s not bad luck. Maybe it’s a hand unseen, pulling you back for your own good.

In the heart of Tripura, where time moves to the rhythm of bamboo winds and tribal drums, even delays carry meaning.Sometimes, what feels like life going wrong… is just life quietly saving you.