Seventy-four.

In most families today, that’s the age you’re expected to finally go on that Europe trip, take up pottery, or chase your grandkids around the living room—not resign from the second-highest office in the land!

But that’s exactly what happened. Our Vice President, seventy-four and still sharp as a tack, has waved goodbye to corridors of power citing—wait for it—health reasons. Which, translated from political to human, simply means: “I’ve had enough of the stress, thank you very much!”

Now stress isn’t new. It’s not like it came in with smartphones and power point presentations. No, it’s been around since Eve realised that she should never have touched the apple.

But what’s different now is that we wear stress like a badge of honour. “I’m swamped!” we sigh proudly, as though exhaustion is a status symbol.

But here’s the thing—stress is not impressed by your status. It doesn’t care if you’re a vice president or a vegetable vendor. It creeps in during cabinet meetings and while peeling a rotten potato.

And ah yes, it whispers in boardrooms and bedrooms alike.

And it kills. Quietly. Efficiently. Often with a smile on its face and a today’s unfinished tasks list in its hand.

So how do you fight something that doesn’t show up in enemy colours? How do you battle a storm that’s invisible?

Stillness.

Yes, I know, it sounds suspiciously like laziness, but bear with me. Stillness isn’t doing nothing—it’s doing something powerful: choosing to pause. Choosing to stop running in circles long enough to remember where you’re going, and why you are going.

Stillness is not lying on a couch with a remote. It’s like anchoring a boat. Have you seen one? On calm waters, it sways gently. But when the winds rage and the waves thrash, it stays put—because it’s anchored.

We too need anchors. Not coffee or whisky. Real anchors. Soul-anchors. And anchors, my friend, are spiritual. They’re the quiet confidence that you’re held by something—Someone—bigger than your problems.

“Be still and know that I am God,” says a line in the Bible. Not “be still and check your WhatsApp,” or “be still and worry.” No, just… be still. And know.

Just like the silly notion that peace between countries can be brought about through war, we all want peace through bashing others who we feel stand in the way of our stillness.

Like the man who prays another way and unsettles us.

The person who speaks a different language and bothers our peace.

Real stillness- real knowledge of how firm you are anchored won’t allow all this to rock your boat.

As a writer, events emotionally tear me as I write. But as soon as I finish, as I’m doing now, I hold onto my Anchor.

And if the cabinet calls…tell them no. I’m too anchored at the moment…!

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