By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam

They say rituals bring order to life. Some meditate, some drink herbal tea, some do yoga. Me? I begin every day with a frantic, borderline hysterical search for my glasses.

Now, you might assume I would put them in the same place every night, like a responsible, organised adult. That would make sense. But no. Each morning, I embark on an Indiana Jones-style adventure. I pat down every surface like a detective solving the case of the vanishing eye-wear. Are they on the nightstand? Nope. Under the bed? Negative. Inside the fridge? Well, that happened once and we don’t talk about it.

The great irony: I need my  glasses to find my glasses

The cruellest joke in all of this is that I need my glasses to see. But I cannot find my glasses because I cannot see. It’s a tragic cycle of blurry frustration. Without them, my world is just a Monet painting — impressionist, colourful and completely useless.

On particularly bad days, I have even asked my wife, “Have you seen my glasses?” while I was wearing them. On my face. Like an absolute genius.

A permanent part of my face

Some people have tattoos, others have piercings. I have my glasses. It’s less of an accessory and more of a permanent facial feature now. I forget they are there until I do something ridiculous. I might step into the shower with them. Or I might attempt to wash my face,  only to realise I am vigorously scrubbing my lenses.

Sleeping with them on? Oh, that happens too. I’ll wake up with my frames twisted in angles that defy all laws of physics. They look like I’ve fought a battle in my dreams. Which, in a way, I have — against my own inability to remove them before bed.

Even my iPhone is in on the joke

My iPhone, ever the loyal companion, has also given up on recognising my glasses-less face. Without them, Face ID just stares at me blankly. It seems to say, “I don’t know who you are, but you look suspicious.” Put my glasses on? Boom — instant access, as if I just returned from witness protection.

The glasses cleaning paradox

And let’s talk about cleaning them —because apparently, glasses don’t come with self-cleaning mode yet. Every now and then, I’ll be squinting at my laptop, convinced my eyesight has suddenly worsened, only to realise I’m peering through fingerprints, smudges and what I can only describe as a faint film of existential despair. I’ll try to clean them with the edge of my shirt, which is absolutely not microfibre, but at this point, standards are low, and desperation is high. Five swipes later, I’ve successfully added lint to the problem. It’s less “clear vision” and more “looking through a foggy memory.”

The backup pair myth

People always say, “Why don’t you just keep a backup pair?” As if I haven’t tried. I do own a backup pair. They are… somewhere. Possibly in a suitcase from a trip I took three years ago. Maybe in a drawer full of expired batteries and orphaned charger cables. The backup pair exists in the same mythical realm as lost socks and matching Tupperware lids — spoken of, but rarely seen.

Will I ever change?

No. Probably not. This is my life now — perpetually searching for, forgetting about and accidentally showering with my glasses. Maybe one day, we will have a new kind of eye surgery. I may get this surgery. But let’s be honest: I’d probably still try to push up my invisible glasses every few minutes out of sheer muscle memory.

In the end, it’s a lifestyle

At this point, I’ve stopped fighting it. This isn’t a flaw — it’s a lifestyle choice. Some people live in chaos by accident. I live in it with prescription lenses. And honestly, there’s a certain charm to starting each day with a sense of mystery and mild panic. It keeps the heart rate up. So, tomorrow morning, when I inevitably ask, “Where are my glasses?” just know — it’s not forgetfulness. It’s tradition.

[Dr. R. Balasubramaniam, the Founder of Swami Vivekananda Youth Movement, is currently the Member-HR at the Capacity Building Commission of the Government of India, New Delhi.]