“Sabbatical? Is That Like Sick Leave for Grown-Ups?”

 

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and Aditi was trying (and failing) to do yoga in the living room. Every downward drop was interrupted by a small, curious head popping into view.

“Mumma,” Aarav asked, balancing a cricket bat on his shoulder, “are you unemployed now?”

Aditi nearly toppled over.

“What?! No! Why would you think that?”

“Because Papa said you’re on a ‘sabbatical.’ Sounds serious. Like a disease. Do you need medicine?”

Aditi burst out laughing, straightened up, and flopped on the sofa. “No, beta. Sabbatical isn’t a sickness. It’s... a break. A long, planned break from work.”

Aarav plopped beside her. “So, like summer holidays, but for adults?”

“Pretty much,” she nodded. “Except we don’t get mangoes and ice-cream with it automatically. We have to fight HR policies instead.”

Aarav tilted his head. “But why would you want to take a break? You were just made VP of something-something. That sounds important!”

“Vice President of Strategic Business Initiatives,” Aditi corrected with mock pride. “And yes, it sounds important - until you realise it means replying to emails at midnight and forgetting what sleep feels like.”

Aarav gave her a look. “So basically, you're on leave because your brain got tired?”

Aditi gasped. “My brain did not get tired. It got... slightly crispy around the edges. Like an over-fried samosa. Still good, but not the best version of itself.”

Aarav giggled. “So what do you do on a sabbatical? Watch TV all day and eat chips?”

“I mean… that was the plan,” Aditi admitted sheepishly. “But now I’m reading books, learning to cook edible food, and- believe it or not - organising the spice cabinet. Did you know we had three bottles of cinnamon?”

“Did you know I thought cinnamon was a Pokémon until last week?”

They both laughed.

Aditi continued, “Honestly, sabbaticals are becoming more common these days. People realise that working non-stop isn’t sustainable. Taking a break helps you think, reset, even explore other things- like starting a blog, or teaching, or becoming a part-time stand-up comedian.”

“You?” Aarav said, eyes wide. “Stand-up? You can’t even tell a knock-knock joke without Googling it!”

Aditi raised an eyebrow. “Well, I could try. Want to hear one?”

“No,” he said quickly. “So when do you go back to office?”

“In a few months,” Aditi said. “But I’ll be going back with new energy. And hopefully fewer unread emails.”

“So sabbatical is like charging your phone. When the battery hits 1%, you plug it in before it dies?”

“Exactly! And if you don’t… well, you start yelling at the microwave and forgetting your own passwords.”

Aarav nodded sagely. “I get it now. You’re rebooting. Like my PS5 after it freezes.”

“Yup,” she smiled. “Exactly like that.”

Pause.

“So... can I take a sabbatical from homework?”

Aditi narrowed her eyes. “Nice try. You can take a snack break, that’s about it.”

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