CHANDIGARH, 1 July — At a quiet corner of Chandigarh’s Sector 17, beneath the slow whirring of ceiling fans and the rustle of newspaper pages at the Indian Coffee House, 61-year-old Harbans Singh leans forward and says something that could be a philosophy carved in stone: “Zindagi ko samajhne se zyada, usay accept karna zaroori hai.” (It’s more important to accept life than to understand it.)
Harbans, who lost his wife to cancer five years ago and recently took voluntary retirement after a stroke, speaks from a space many find difficult to enter—acceptance. And yet, for countless people battling private griefs, disappointments, or failed dreams, learning the art of acceptance is becoming not just a coping mechanism but a lifeline.
Life doesn’t always unfold fairly. It doesn’t move according to plan. Careers derail, marriages crumble, loved ones die too soon, and dreams are often deferred indefinitely. At such crossroads, a choice quietly presents itself: resist or accept.
“Acceptance doesn’t mean liking the situation,” says Dr. Neelima Kapoor, psychologist at PGIMER. “It means acknowledging reality without unnecessary emotional resistance. That’s where peace begins.”
Kapoor says many of her patients struggle not just with what has happened but with the idea that it should not have happened. “That word—‘should’—creates suffering,” she explains. “Acceptance dissolves that illusion.”
In a 2021 study published in the Journal of Happiness Studies, researchers found that individuals who practiced psychological flexibility—a trait closely linked to acceptance—reported significantly lower levels of depression and anxiety.
“Acceptance is not passive,” said lead author Dr. Ellen Kaufman. “It’s a courageous act. You stop fighting battles you were never meant to win.”
A similar study from the University of Wisconsin found that veterans with PTSD responded more positively to Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) than to traditional cognitive therapy. The shift from ‘fixing’ emotions to simply allowing them, they say, can be transformative.
Rajni Malhotra, a 39-year-old single mother who runs a tailoring shop in Mani Majra, shares a story of resilience rooted in surrender.
“My husband left when my son was two. For a long time, I kept asking, ‘Why me?’” she says, stitching as she speaks. “Then one day, my son had a fever, and I realized: it’s not about why this happened. It’s about what I do now.”
Rajni joined a support group for single mothers last year. “We don’t try to ‘fix’ each other,” she laughs. “We just sit, listen, and say, ‘haan, yeh sab hota hai’ (yes, all this happens). That alone helps.”
Even among the young, the winds of acceptance seem to be blowing gently. Karanveer, a 22-year-old engineering student at Panjab University, failed two subjects in his final semester and fell into a spiral of guilt.
“For a week, I didn’t get out of bed,” he says. “Then a professor told me, ‘Karan, this is just a comma, not a full stop.’ That line changed me.”
Today, Karan is reattempting those exams with renewed focus. “I realised I wasn’t broken. Just paused. Accepting that made me breathe again.”
Spiritual traditions across the world have long echoed this wisdom. The serenity prayer—“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…”—finds echoes in the Gita, the Quran, and Buddhist teachings.
“Attachment to outcome causes suffering,” says Swami Pradyumananda, a monk at Ramakrishna Mission in Sector 15. “We must act, yes, but surrender the results. That is real freedom.”
Swami recalls a young woman who came to him after being rejected by the civil services twice. “She cried and said she felt worthless. I asked her, ‘Do you not see how brave it is to even try?’”
Crucially, acceptance is often misunderstood as resignation. But it’s the opposite.
“It’s not about giving up,” Dr. Neelima Kapoor clarifies again. “It’s about showing up without bitterness.”
This distinction is important in a world where hustle culture glorifies control and dominance over circumstances. Acceptance, instead, teaches humility—one that says: I may not be in charge, but I can still walk with grace.
As the monsoon breeze moves through the lanes of Chandigarh, carrying with it the scent of rain and wildflowers, perhaps there’s something healing in just pausing. In recognising that not every wound will close on your timeline. That sometimes, the answer is not in changing your story—but in changing how you hold it.
As Harbans Singh said, finishing his coffee and watching the clouds roll in, “Zindagi har kisi ke saath fair nahi hoti. Lekin jab aap usay accept karte ho, uss waqt se aap jeena shuru karte ho.”
(Life is not fair to everyone. But the moment you accept it—that’s when you start truly living.)
