Waiting at the Window: How Modern Life Turned Parents into an Afterthought and Love into a Scheduled Duty

April 18, 2026

Dr Tanu jain
(Chief executive officer Bareilly cantonment board Ministry of defence)

There was a time when the bond between parents and children was not measured, not negotiated, and certainly not postponed. It flowed naturally—like breath, like seasons, like the quiet certainty of sunrise. Parents were not responsibilities; they were roots. And children were not visitors; they were extensions of love itself.

Today, something has shifted. Somewhere between ambition and achievement, between schedules and screens, we have begun to ask a question that should have never existed—“Should I go see them?” What has changed so deeply within us that even illness does not stir urgency anymore? When a parent lies unwell, waiting— not just for medicine, but for presence—the hesitation of a child becomes more painful than the disease itself.

It is not that love has vanished; it is that it has been buried under layers of busyness, priorities, and a strange emotional fatigue. We have become efficient in everything except what truly matters. We live in an age of hyperconnectivity, yet emotional disconnection has never been so stark. Messages are sent, calls are scheduled, updates are exchanged—but where is the warmth? Where is the touch of a hand that reassures? Where is the silence that speaks, the presence that heals? A parent does not need solutions; they need to feel that they are not alone. And yet, we have reduced care to convenience. There is a quiet tragedy unfolding in homes across the world.

Elderly parents sit by windows, not just watching the world pass by, but waiting—for footsteps, for a familiar voice, for a moment that tells them they still matter. Their bodies may weaken, but their hearts remain full—full of memories, of sacrifices, of a lifetime spent giving without counting. And now, when they need a fraction of that love back, they find themselves waiting… and waiting.

What makes us so insensitive? Is it truly lack of time, or is it a shift in values? We chase success, build empires, manage endless responsibilities—but somewhere, we have lost the simplicity of showing up. We have normalized absence. We have justified distance. And in doing so, we have unknowingly created a new kind of poverty—the poverty of emotional presence. Children have grown into adults, but in the process, have left behind the essence of being human. The same hands that once held their parents tightly now hesitate to reach out. The same hearts that once found comfort in their presence now calculate visits. “Koi fayda nahin hai”—this thought alone reflects a deep erosion of emotional connection. Since when did love become transactional? Since when did care require justification? Perhaps the question is not where society is heading, but what we are becoming individually.

A society is nothing but a reflection of its people. If we continue to detach, to delay, to deprioritize the very relationships that gave us life, then we are not progressing—we are regressing, silently, painfully. Love does not demand grand gestures. It asks for presence, for time, for a willingness to pause and prioritize what is irreplaceable. No achievement, no success, no milestone can ever compensate for the regret of not being there when it truly mattered. Because one day, the waiting will end. The window will remain, but the eyes that looked through it will be gone. Perhaps it is time we free ourselves—from excuses, from indifference, from the illusion of endless time.Because love should never need permission.