Guru Meditation

Airports are temples of waiting. They strip away the illusion of control, leaving travellers suspended in time between one place and another. In that in-between, people invent ways to cope.

Here, in a lounge of muted reds and glassy daylight, a man folds himself into a private space. One leg drawn up, back curved, cap pulled low, he cradles a tablet as if it were a small book or a talisman. His fingers rest lightly on it, not tapping, not scrolling—just holding. The surrounding noise and movement dissolve in his stillness.

This is meditation for the digital age. Not in a forest clearing or a candlelit room, but in an overlit waiting area with the low murmur of boarding calls. The device does not break his concentration; it becomes the anchor. Perhaps it streams a guided session, a landscape of sound to quiet the mind. Or perhaps it is simply a blank screen reflecting his own thoughts back at him.

Around him, the choreography of modern travel continues. Another passenger scrolls through her phone. Bags shift at feet. Time ticks forward. Yet in the centre of it all, a man sits, unmoved, demonstrating that focus is no longer tied to the absence of technology. In this age, the tablet is not a distraction from stillness—it is part of it.