Because saying “no” is the new namaste.
The Night I Discovered My Superpower
Picture this: It’s 8 PM on a Friday evening in Pune. The monsoon is doing its dramatic dance outside my window, and I’m wrapped in my favorite kurta, sipping masala chai that’s still too hot but perfectly soul-warming. My phone buzzes with the seventh invitation this week—another office party, another “networking event,” another distant relative’s anniversary where I’ll know exactly three people and spend most of the evening explaining my life choices to aunties who still remember me as “that skinny boy from college.”
And for the first time in my forty-six years on this beautiful, chaotic planet, I did something revolutionary.
I said no.
Not the usual “I’ll try to make it” (which everyone knows means no), not the classic “I’m not feeling well” (the universal get-out-of-jail card), but a simple, honest, unapologetic no.
The silence that followed was so profound, I thought my phone had died.
The Great Guilt Trip Express
Let me take you back six months. After two decades of what you’d call professional people-pleasing, I was still riding the FOMO express like it was the last train to enlightenment. Every invitation felt like a sacred duty. Every “maybe next time” felt like a personal failure. I was attending more events than a Bollywood publicist, and enjoying approximately none of them.
The turning point came during Priya’s housewarming party.
“Sandeep, you look tired,” she said, handing me a glass of wine that cost more than my gym membership.
“Just busy, you know how it is,” I replied, the standard response of our generation.
“But you’re always busy. When was the last time you did something just for you?”
I stood there, mentally scrolling through my calendar like it was a Netflix queue I couldn’t decide on. Between work deadlines, family obligations, friends’ celebrations, community events, and the occasional attempt at maintaining my fitness routine, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something simply because it brought me joy.
That night, I sat in an auto-rickshaw stuck in Koregaon Park traffic, watching people rush from one obligation to another, and I had what my grandmother would call a “divine download”—though she’d probably phrase it as “Bhagwan ne samjhaya” (God made me understand).
The Ancient Art of Selective Presence
Here’s what nobody tells you about Indian culture: while we’ve mastered the art of showing up for everyone else, we’ve completely forgotten how to show up for ourselves. We’ve confused being present with being everywhere. And at 46, after decades of this exhausting dance, I was finally ready to learn a different rhythm.
My grandfather, who lived to be 89 and somehow managed to attend only the events that actually mattered to him, once told me: “Beta, your presence is a gift. Don’t make it so common that people forget its value.”
At the time, I thought he was just being dramatic. Now, with the wisdom that comes from two decades of adult social obligations, I realize he was dropping ancient wisdom like it was casual conversation.
The Philosophy of Intentional Absence
The Yoga of Saying No
In yoga, there’s a concept called santosha—contentment. But contentment isn’t about accepting everything that comes your way; it’s about being selective about what deserves your energy. Every yes to something you don’t want is a no to something you do want.
I started treating my social calendar like a meditation practice. Before accepting any invitation, I’d sit with it for a moment and ask myself three questions:
- Will this genuinely add value to my life or someone else’s?
- Am I saying yes out of joy or obligation?
- What am I sacrificing by being there?
The Misconception of Friendship
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: real friends want you to be happy, not perpetually available. If someone gets genuinely upset because you chose to skip their third birthday celebration this month (yes, some people celebrate their birthdays like it’s a festival), they’re probably more interested in your presence as validation than your presence as friendship.
I learned this the hard way when I missed my college friend Rohit’s promotion party because I had committed to a writing retreat I’d been looking forward to for months.
“Dude, you never come to anything anymore,” he said over text.
“I came to your last three celebrations,” I replied. “I just needed this weekend for myself.”
“You’ve changed, man. You used to be fun.”
The old me would have felt guilty. The new me realized that if my worth as a friend was measured by my attendance record rather than the quality of our connection, maybe it wasn’t much of a friendship to begin with.
Plot twist: Rohit called me a week later to apologize and admit he’d been feeling pressure to constantly celebrate every small win because social media made him feel like he was falling behind. We ended up having our deepest conversation in years.
The Modern Dilemma: Digital FOMO vs. Analog JOMO
The Instagram Illusion
Social media has turned missing out into a spectator sport. Every event you skip becomes a highlight reel of everything you’re supposedly missing. But here’s what those perfectly curated posts don’t show you: the person who left early because they were bored, the forced smiles, the small talk that goes nowhere, the awkward moments when you realize you have nothing in common with these people except shared air.
I started practicing what I call “digital detox during social events I’m not attending.” When I know there’s an event happening that I’ve chosen to skip, I stay off social media for those hours. Instead, I engage fully with whatever I’ve chosen to do instead—whether it’s reading, cooking, going for a run, or simply existing without documentation.
The Art of Graceful Declining
Saying no is like learning to ride a motorcycle in Indian traffic—terrifying at first, but once you get the hang of it, surprisingly liberating. Here’s how I learned to do it without losing friends or feeling like a social pariah:
Be honest but gentle: “Thank you for thinking of me. I won’t be able to make it, but I hope you have a wonderful time.”
Offer alternatives when genuine: “I can’t do dinner Friday, but I’d love to catch up over coffee next week if you’re free.”
Don’t over-explain: The moment you start listing reasons, you’re opening a negotiation. No is a complete sentence.
Express genuine care: “Please take lots of pictures and tell me about the highlights later.”
The Ripple Effect of Selective Socializing
Quality Over Quantity
Something magical happened when I stopped attending everything: the relationships that mattered became stronger. With more energy and genuine enthusiasm, I could be truly present for the people and events that aligned with my values and brought me joy.
My friend Sarah noticed the change immediately. “You seem so much more… you lately,” she said during one of our monthly coffee dates—a tradition I’d maintained because it genuinely nourished both of us.
“I’ve been practicing the joy of missing out,” I explained.
“JOMO instead of FOMO?”
“Exactly. Turns out, when you stop showing up everywhere, you can actually show up somewhere.”
The Energy Economics
Think of your social energy like your phone battery. Every event, every gathering, every obligation drains a percentage. The question is: are you spending that battery on high-value activities or letting it die a slow death through a thousand tiny energy vampires?
I started scheduling my social commitments like I schedule my workouts—intentionally, with purpose, and with recovery time built in. Just as I wouldn’t do intensive cardio every day without rest, I realized I couldn’t be socially “on” constantly without burning out.
The Cultural Challenge: Family Edition
The Extended Family Olympics
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: Indian families and their supernatural ability to create guilt around attendance. Missing one family function is like skipping school—suddenly you’re the irresponsible one who “doesn’t care about family values.”
I had to have a honest conversation with my mother after I decided to skip my third cousin’s sangeet ceremony (for a person I see once every two years and exchange pleasantries with).
“Beta, what will people think?” she asked, the eternal Indian parent question.
“Mummy, people will think I had other commitments. And they’ll be right.”
“But family is important.”
“Family is incredibly important. That’s why I want to be present for the family events that truly matter, rather than stretched so thin that I’m physically there but emotionally absent everywhere.”
It took a few months, but she eventually understood. Now she sometimes declines events herself, claiming she learned it from her “wise son.” The irony isn’t lost on me.
The Joy of Missing Out: A Practice
Creating Your Own JOMO Manifesto
Here’s what I learned: JOMO isn’t about becoming antisocial or selfish. It’s about being intentional with your presence so that when you do show up, you’re fully there.
My personal JOMO practice includes:
Sunday planning sessions: I review the week ahead and identify which commitments align with my energy and values.
The 24-hour rule: For spontaneous invitations, I take at least 24 hours to decide, allowing the initial social pressure to fade and my authentic response to emerge.
Energy budgeting: I treat social energy like financial budgeting—being mindful of how I spend it and ensuring I’m investing in relationships and experiences that give back.
Guilt-free recovery time: After social events I do attend, I schedule downtime without guilt, treating it as necessary maintenance rather than laziness.
The Unexpected Benefits
Deeper Connections
When you stop trying to maintain surface-level connections with everyone, you have more capacity for meaningful relationships. My circle became smaller but infinitely richer.
Increased Self-Awareness
Choosing how to spend your social energy forces you to clarify what you actually value, not what you think you should value.
Better Boundaries
Learning to say no to social events translated into better boundaries in all areas of life—work, family, and personal commitments.
Authentic Joy
The events I do attend now feel genuinely enjoyable because I’m there by choice, not obligation.
The Path Forward: Your JOMO Journey
As I write this, it’s another Friday evening. My phone has buzzed twice with invitations, and I’ve politely declined both. Instead, I’m here with you, sharing this story, and later I’ll go for a night walk in my neighborhood, perhaps call my grandmother, and definitely finish the book I’ve been savoring for weeks.
This isn’t about becoming a hermit or burning social bridges. It’s about recognizing that your time, energy, and presence are precious resources that deserve to be invested wisely.
The beautiful truth is that the right people will not only understand your choices but respect you more for making them. And the wrong people? Well, they’ll filter themselves out of your life, saving you the trouble of figuring out who your real friends are.
Your homework (if you choose to accept it): This week, practice saying no to one social commitment that doesn’t truly excite you. Notice what comes up—guilt, fear, relief, liberation. Sit with those feelings. They’re teaching you something important about the life you actually want to live versus the life you think you should live.
Remember, every master of any art—whether it’s cricket, classical music, or cooking—knows that knowing when not to swing, when not to play a note, when not to add another spice, is just as important as knowing when to act.
Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is stay home in your pajamas and honor your own rhythm.
What’s next? Next week, I’ll be sharing “The Art of Saying Yes: How to Recognize Invitations That Feed Your Soul.” Because JOMO without intentional FOMO is just social hibernation.
Ready to master the art of intentional living?
Subscribe to my weekly newsletter “Chai & Wisdom” for more stories about finding balance between ancient wisdom and modern life. Plus, get my free guide: “The 30-Day JOMO Challenge” delivered straight to your inbox.
[Subscribe Here – It’s Free and No Spam, Promise]
P.S. – Got a JOMO story of your own? I’d love to hear it. Hit reply and share your experience with choosing joy over obligation.
Leave a Reply