The Art of Saying “Almost Ready” – Indian Stretchable Time Decoded
Let’s face it – “The Art of Saying Almost Ready” could easily be our national skill. We Indians treat time like stretchy dough — knead it, pull it, twist it, and somehow, it still fits! The clock may say one thing, but our internal timing runs on its own rhythm: slower, spicier, and delightfully unpredictable. Here is the Indian Stretchable Time Decoded
“Five Minutes Mein Nikalti Hoon” — The National Slogan
The phrase “five minutes” in India is a linguistic masterpiece. It has no relation to actual time. It’s a promise, a prayer, and a polite way of saying, “I haven’t even started yet.”
If you call a friend who’s late, you’ll always hear one of these:
- “Bas nikal rahi hoon!” (Still brushing hair.)
- “Car start kar di!” (Still finding the keys.)
- “Signal pe hoon!” (Signal of hope, not traffic.)
It’s a universal script, whether it’s your cousin, your boss, or your best friend. Somehow, those five minutes always expand into forty-five. One of my friends once told me, “If I ever say I’m leaving in five minutes, please assume I’ve just decided what to wear.” I couldn’t argue.
Fashionably Late, Desi Style
Being late in India isn’t a flaw – it’s flair. We arrive when the moment feels right. In Punjabi households, weddings never begin before three hours of delay. Baraats are like migrating birds – they take their time, stop for selfies, and sometimes even outlast the band.
At one wedding I attended in Delhi, the invitation said 7 p.m. sharp. Naturally, the guests began arriving at 9. The DJ came, played, packed up, and left – all before dinner was served. The bride made her grand entry just as the caterer was yawning. Yet, everyone clapped, smiled, and said, “Perfect timing!”
In contrast, my South Indian friends make me feel like I live in another time zone altogether. They’re the early birds of the nation – punctual to the dot, polished, and polite. If the invite says 7 p.m., they’re seated by 6:55, shoes neatly aligned by the door. Early to bed, early to rise actually makes them healthy, wealthy and wise!
As a naturally punctual person myself, I’ve often been too early – waiting, smiling awkwardly, while the hosts are still blow-drying their hair or setting up the table. But lately, thanks to traffic and chaos, even I’ve started carrying my “running late” badge like a Delhi driving license — essential for survival.
The Great Indian Excuse Factory
We don’t just arrive late – we arrive fashionably late.
Each excuse is a work of art.
“Boss called last minute.”
“Auto wala took the long route.”
“My son hid my car keys.”
Every generation has its own flavour. Aunty ji’s classic: “Beta, I left on time but couldn’t find matching bangles.” Uncle’s defence: “Arrey, the match went into a super over!”
And of course, the modern masterpiece: “Traffic tha!” – the great equaliser. It’s so powerful that no one ever questions it. You could be three hours late to a lunch in Hyderabad, and “traffic” will still be accepted like gospel truth.
The Traffic That Ate Our Punctuality
Once upon a time, Delhi blamed fog, Mumbai blamed rain, and Bangalore blamed potholes. Now, we all bow down to a single villain – traffic.
Whether it’s an autorickshaw protest or a cow standing meditatively in the middle of the road, or just pooping nonchalantly, traffic is our all-purpose excuse. We Indians have learned to weaponise it beautifully.
I once told a friend, “You’re only 45 minutes away!”
She sighed dramatically, “Yaar, you don’t understand… Google Maps doesn’t factor in chai breaks and aunties crossing roads!”
Maybe it’s time someone created an Indian version of Google Maps – with settings like “Punjabi time delay: +90 mins” or “Bangalore traffic: add 1 hour per km.”
The “Dinner at 8” Paradox
Another desi speciality is the flexible dinner invite. When someone says “Dinner at 8,” it doesn’t mean dinner at 8. It means:
- Guests start trickling in at 9:15
- Snacks appear at 10
- Dinner finally happens at 11:30
And if you arrive on time? You’ll be helping to lay the table, chop salad, or test the mocktails.
I once reached a friend’s dinner at 8 sharp, dressed and cheerful. The door opened to chaos – she was still marinating the paneer, her husband was hanging fairy lights, and their Golden Retriever was trying to eat the napkins. “You’re early!” she exclaimed. “No,” I said. “You’re late for your own party.”
Late for Love, Late for Life
Even romance runs on Indian Stretchable Time. I remember one couple who planned their pre-wedding shoot at sunrise. The photographer waited by the lake, capturing the beautiful morning light. The bride and groom? They arrived just in time for lunch.
It’s almost poetic. We run late for everything – weddings, meetings, flights – but somehow, we never run out of stories about it.
A friend once bragged, “I’ve never missed a flight.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes,” she grinned, “Because I always book the next one.”
Time, Tolerance, and a Touch of Tadka
Beneath the humour lies a deeper truth – our relaxed relationship with time reflects who we are. We’re not always punctual, but we’re rarely in a hurry to leave. We’ll stop for chai with a friend, chat with a neighbour, help someone push a scooter, or pick up samosas on the way.
Our “delay” isn’t always laziness – it’s often a choice to prioritise human connection over the ticking clock.
Sure, we may frustrate the Swiss, but our chaos has its own rhythm. In a world obsessed with efficiency, maybe a little stretch isn’t such a bad thing.
🇮🇳 Embracing the Official “IST” – Indian Stretchable Time
Beneath all the missed deadlines and marathon weddings lies a deeper cultural truth. Our relaxed relationship with time is less about carelessness and more about prioritising humanity. We’re not always punctual, but we’re rarely in a hurry to leave. We’ll stop for chai with a friend, patiently chat with a neighbour, help someone push a stalled scooter, or pick up hot samosas on the way, because relationships trump the clock.
Sure, our timelines might send a Swiss watchmaker into cardiac arrest, but our chaos has its own soulful rhythm. In a world obsessed with hyper-efficiency and rigid schedules, maybe a little elasticity is exactly what we need.
At the end of the day, Indian Stretchable Time (IST) is more than just a joke; it’s a shared, endearing national experience. It’s a mix of impatience, laughter, and an unbreakable resilience that somehow holds this massive, beautiful, and delightfully unpredictable country together. It’s the same optimism that says the train will eventually arrive, the power will return, and life will always, gloriously, go on.
Because in India, “almost ready” is not a delay; it’s our unique way of life.
Final Thoughts
Punctuality is admirable, but humour and patience are essential. Whether you’re early, late, or fashionably in between, remember, everyone runs on their own clock. So next time someone says, “Bas paanch minute,” just smile. You’re not simply waiting; you’re witnessing the grand, ongoing, and slightly delayed theatre of the nation.
This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025
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@wordsmithkaur
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