Life, that whimsical ride, comes without a manual, meanders without a script, and then executes a smooth, stage-left exit, like that one friend who “forgets” their wallet when the dinner bill arrives. What fills the space in between? Pure improvisational theatre. Thrust into the spotlight and gloriously clueless, we fumble for our lines, making it up as we go. We have zero intel on the entrance or the ultimate destination. We’re simply lost in this whimsical corner of the universe in this particular century!
Woven from the threads of “maybe”, “perhaps”, “don’t know”, and “not sure”, existence is one enormous, flamboyant question mark. It isn’t a curated feast but a wild cosmic potluck. Each guest brings a mystery dish, and no one is quite sure who booked the venue and who invited whom. It’s more of a chaotic, catch-as-catch-can party. Philosophers have squinted at the stars over it until their eyes watered, while poets have serenaded its riddles. We’ve all pondered it at 3 a.m. over cold pizza. And the grand enigma? It just winks back, utterly unbothered.
Each morning, we open our eyes, cradled in uncertainties. Will today sparkle with serendipity or sucker-punch our sanity? Will we ace that presentation or bomb it spectacularly? Many such questions pop up in our minds as we get ready for the day. Our mind wanders, and we idly visualise random situations. Perhaps someone will fall in love with us. Maybe they already did, and we were too busy doom-scrolling to notice the miracle. We don’t know.
And so, wearing confidence like an ill-fitting suit, we step out, heart humming through the fog of maybes.
The magic lies not in knowing but in not needing to know. It’s adopting the mindset of a seasoned improviser who welcomes whatever reality throws at them, even if it rains frogs.
The daily dose of delicious doubts
1. We ask, “Is there a God?”
The wind is silent, says nothing. Maybe a benevolent maestro is orchestrating this grand opera, ensuring even that miserable cold we caught last Tuesday fits into the divine plan. Perhaps it’s just atoms doing the cha-cha in an endless void. To say “maybe” is to leave the door ajar for wonder—it’s a polite nod to both the scientist and the sage as they bicker hilariously in the hallway. The delicious truth? No one has the official scoop. The mystery endures. Life chugs on, enigma intact.
2. We ask, “Do I have a purpose?”
And the stars blink like shy fireflies, as if to say, “Define purpose, you weirdo!” So we invent one to feel a tad less ridiculous. We build ladders to the moon and hang fairy lights around our dreams. Or we rebel and declare, “Purpose is a myth with excellent PR!” Maybe both sides are onto something. Perhaps both are jokes. The point could simply be to shimmy through life, purpose or no purpose!
3. We ask, “Is there an afterlife?”
Ah, the ultimate “to be continued…” or “the end”. Perhaps we’re recycled through life’s revolving door: this round a baker, next a beetle, and then someone’s annoyingly overachieving cousin. Or maybe this is a one-act play—lights out, no encore, curtain down, applause or not. Maybe that déjà vu is a leftover echo from a past life—or just a brain fart. If we get another spin on the cosmic carousel, splendid! If not, cool—pass the popcorn. Why sweat it when today’s got chhole bhature?
4. We ask, “Do they love me?”
Ah, the tender ache of human connection! That exquisite torture! Perhaps they love us for our charm and wit—or just for our killer alu paranthas. Maybe those smiles are genuine or a polite facade while they plan their grocery list. Perhaps they love us while often finding us exasperating. We interpret, we guess, we hope, but the inner universe of another person is a sealed vault with a tricky combination lock. We’re perhaps just curious fools, and others don’t give a damn.
5. We ask, “Will I succeed?”
Maybe we’ll summit the corporate Everest and snag that corner office with the ocean view. Or we’ll flop spectacularly, face-plant into the rubble, and somehow stumble into something better while dusting ourselves off. Success is a slippery eel. Failure, a misunderstood poet. Often, they wear each other’s name tags at parties just to confuse us. We are not sure whether we’re a genius or a goofball. Yesterday, we were a sage dispensing wisdom. Today, we’re a confused guest who brought chicken tikka to a vegan party—now hiding it in our cargo pocket.
6. We ask, “How long shall I live?”
Now that’s the wild card that makes every other uncertainty look tame. Perhaps we’ll sip beer at 100, regaling great-grandkids with tales of “back in our day”. Or we’ll bow out early, like a cameo appearance in someone else’s epic saga. So, we wear neon socks, crack corny jokes, doodle haikus on napkins, and plant trees we may never sit under.
Life isn’t a curated feast but a wild cosmic potluck. Each guest brings a mystery dish, and no one is quite sure who booked the venue and who invited whom. Philosophers have squinted at the stars over it until their eyes watered, while poets have serenaded its riddles.
Maybe yes, maybe no
Life is a perpetual gamble akin to a falling toast—will it land butter-side down? At every crossroads, we teeter on the edge of uncertainty. Will we breeze through this exam, or will we have to wait till next year for another go? Will our old car fetch a fair price or none at all? We cannot prepare for sudden derailments, whether it’s being ghosted mid-text or missing the train to an important meeting. We invest our heart in stocks that soar or plummet overnight. Life, in all its devilry, remains a tantalising whirlwind of “maybe yes, maybe no”.
Baffled by life’s ambiguities, we scramble for clarity, checking horoscopes, chasing gurus, and staring into crystal balls. We’re desperate for answers—a map, a manual, a divine customer-care line. We seek to pin the butterfly of certainty, only for it to flutter away mockingly.
Winging it
So where does our solace lie? In befriending the fog of ambiguity rather than fighting it. In ditching our obsessive quest for answers and in standing barefoot in the unknown. In stopping that frantic chase after that elusive butterfly. In that soft, spacious uncertainty, life reveals its hidden melodies.
When we admit we don’t know if others love us, we keep our hearts open, loving anyway, without neurotically checking their emotional temperature. When we concede we don’t know if there’s a God, we explore without becoming dogmatic tyrants or smug, know-all atheists. When we acknowledge we don’t know if we’ll succeed, we try stuff without the paralysis of needing a guarantee.
The magic lies not in knowing but in not needing to know. It’s adopting the mindset of a seasoned improviser who welcomes whatever reality throws at them, even if it rains frogs! Winging it with the info we have and tweaking the plan on the fly is good enough. We don’t truly need all the answers we so desperately seek.
The spice, the swing, and the sparkle!
Maybe that sunset is divine brushwork, or perhaps it’s random light refraction obeying physics. Either way, it’s breathtaking. The uncertainty doesn’t dull the dazzle. It absolutely amps it up. For all its mischief and mayhem, uncertainty is actually a gift. Imagine a world where every outcome is guaranteed. A joke with the punchline foretold. Or a whodunit with the villain revealed upfront. How crushingly dull! No surprises, no gasps, no nerve-tingling thrills.
Uncertainty makes life a poem instead of a court document. It tickles, tempts and teases, leaving us in awe. It keeps our heart curious, our laughter honest, and our stories worth telling around a campfire. It is what makes every day vibrant, relationships dynamic, and courage meaningful. It is the spice, the swing, and the sparkle in the rhythm of being. It has its place at the table. Probably the head of the table.
Uncertainty as a muse
Admitting we are not sure is intellectual honesty. It’s like gifting ourselves a permanent hall pass from the exhausting job of pretending to have everything figured out. It’s not ignorance—it’s wearing the comfy shoes of wisdom instead of painful high heels.
Perhaps life is a question better lived than answered—brightly, curiously, foolishly, and dripping with “maybe yes, maybe no”. Eventually, certainty is overrated. Wonder is enough. And so, if we can giggle at uncertainty, it becomes less of a monster and more of a muse.
The whole shimmering point
Life yields no clarity. The fog remains ever thick. As pilgrims in this land of “Maybe Yes, Maybe No”, let’s step forward with a jalebi grin and a wide-open heart. Not armed with answers, but steeped in “not sure”, “don’t know”, “perhaps”, and “maybe”. Not searching for the hidden script but relishing the ad-lib.
With this mindset, each of our steps becomes a tiny act of faith. We discover that the mystery isn’t a wall to be scaled but the very sky in which we learn to soar. We realise that while the mind craves answers, the heart blooms among questions. And what a fascinating question life is!
Thus, we see the question mark as our true compass and a sense of wonder as our zesty guide. Not having any answers is to have all the answers. As this beautiful paradox sinks in, we are well on our way home.
Eventually, life is a melody that transcends both knowing and unknowing! A song that plays on mesmerisingly, whether we decipher the lyrics or not. And that’s the whole shimmering point!
Also by P.S, Wasu: The Slow Lane Rebellion: How to Embrace Slowness and Conquer Burnout | A Lotus in the Mud
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