These days, a surprising number of people suffer from sleeplessness.
A poet once mocked, “They’ve wasted half their lives sleeping!” — yet we happily spend about one-third of our lives asleep. When sleep doesn’t come, we grow anxious; instead of celebrating those “extra waking hours” as a gift, we complain as if we’ve lost something precious!
But really — what do we do with the time saved from not sleeping?
To make the most of the 67% of life we’re awake, we must first sleep well for that 33%.
No wonder the sleep industry is thriving, worth over 6.7 billion USD worldwide.
The Miracle of Effortless Sleep
Some people amaze us — those blessed souls who fall asleep instantly in trains and planes. Forgetting the world and slipping into rest itself feels like a deep philosophy.
Even the great sage Adi Shankara marvelled at this. Once, walking through a field lost in thought, he saw a man sleeping peacefully under a tree — earth for a bed, sky for a roof. Feeling humbled, the sage composed a verse beginning:
The one who sleeps content beneath a tree — how blessed he is!
And here we are — struggling to sleep even in an air-conditioned room on a luxury mattress.
Sleep finally conquers us like a secret wave. No matter how restless we are, at some mysterious second it rises from nowhere and sweeps us into its embrace.
The Ritual of Falling Asleep
We have our own little rituals — a glass of warm milk, a Jeyamohan novel, a cozy bed, AC set to 25 °C, or perhaps an Ilaiyaraja melody. Once, even the soft drone of a tambura could lull us to sleep. Now we subscribe to “Sleep Playlists” on Spotify. 🤣
But do we ever try to wake up?
That happens by itself. The alarm doesn’t wake us — the brain does. If the brain is still asleep, the alarm just becomes part of our dream!
A Mini-Death, A Daily Resurrection
Spiritual teachers say waking up is in God’s hands. Every morning we open our eyes, it’s His grace.
As children, when we asked our mother for food at night, she always gave it — perhaps fearing it could be our last wish before the long sleep.
Because sleep is a mini-death. There’s no guarantee we’ll wake up. Each morning we do — it’s a small miracle.
Philosophers say sleep is the prototype of death. What happens after we die might be no different — heaven and hell are just dreams of the soul. Then, suddenly, like waking from sleep, we “wake up” again — in another body, in another ward, as a newborn.
Then comes naming, nursery rhymes — Nursery rhymes.
Even if we win a Nobel Prize in this life, the next one begins the same way.
Vedanta calls this “Dina Pralayam” — the daily dissolution. Every night everything ends, at least psychologically. We don’t have to wait for a cosmic apocalypse; just wait till bedtime!
Who Stole Our Sleep?
When a cyclone is about to hit the coast at 250 km/h, the news channels scream, “Disaster! Destruction!” But we plan for tomorrow anyway. The elders at home laugh, “Let the storm pass first. Rest a bit. Then plan.”
We are no different — standing before the night, that little daily apocalypse, still dreaming of tomorrow’s victories.
But tell me — who took away our sleep?
Who lit up the night like day, refusing darkness its place? Who is filling our stomach all through the night?
Who filled it with noise, drowning peace in loudspeakers?
Who frightened us with “If you don’t sleep, you’ll die”?
Who sold pills by feeding that fear?
Who made us believe sleeplessness is a sin?
It’s all us.
We did it — to ourselves.
Sleep well tonight.
It may look like a small act of rest — but perhaps it’s our only daily miracle.
