Order is Privilege. Chaos is the Default.

You know what I realized on my recent ten-day trip through Tamil Nadu?

Order is a privilege. Chaos is the default.

We booked flights, trains, and hotels ahead. The plan was simple: travel on time, stay comfortable, avoid stress. For a while, I thought I had escaped the chaos. But the trip kept reminding me otherwise.

# The Train Platform Lesson

At train stations, I watched people pouring into unreserved compartments. Not only because they’re cheaper, but because they can’t decide until the last minute if they can even make the trip.

Maybe they’re still bargaining with their boss for leave. Or asking around for a loan to buy the ticket. Until that’s settled, travel remains uncertain. Their lives run on variables. Mine runs on bookings.

Order isn’t evenly distributed.

# Stories of Mothers

I met a mother with an autistic son. For him, she had set aside her dreams. She didn’t complain. She carried that burden with grace. But “order” was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

Then another mother. She has a special-needs child too. She takes him everywhere, even while leading worship in church. She can’t leave him behind, so her life moves to his rhythm.

And then there was the story of a servant maid. Her daughter was born during COVID and struggles with speech. Doctors recommended therapy, but she can’t afford it. She’s torn between what she longs to do for her child and what her means allow. A friend of mine is helping her, but even then, it’s never enough to fully escape the chaos.

These women live in constant negotiation with chaos.

# Broken Marriages

I met people either going through divorce or whose marriages are in difficult phases. Divorce is affecting poor as well as rich.

One lady worked in the restaurant at the resort where we stayed. She was cheerful and industrious, serving us many times. When she realized we were Christians, she quietly said, “pray for my marriage.” Her eyes welled up. She excused herself, whispering, “Please pray for me.”

In Indian culture, a divorced man may remarry. For women, that option is rare. They adjust, endure, and go about their chaotic life with grit.

# Cracks in My Own Order

I thought my plans would shield me. But even my ordered travel plans developed cracks.

On the last day, I booked a taxi with Red Taxi, a service I trusted. Unlike Ola, they rarely canceled. Dependable. Until that morning.

Thirty minutes before pickup, the call came: “Sir, all cars are full. Your cab will be late.”

We crawled through Monday morning traffic. By the time we reached the airport, the last call for our flight was being announced. We sprinted through security and made it—just barely.

For a few anxious minutes, even I was swallowed up by the default of chaos.

# Watching the Rush

On that ride, I noticed the rush around me: parents hustling children to school, employees chasing buses, everyone caught in their own storm of deadlines.

And I thought about my own life. I live in a city with no real traffic. My office is 17 minutes away. If I’m late by five minutes, my wife asks, “Was there a problem on the way?”

I have a wife I love and who loves me back. Together, we homeschool our children. None of us face serious illness. My life is stitched together with order.

Some of that came by birth—genes, family, circumstances I didn’t choose. Some came through choices I made, enabled by privilege I built over time. But it only takes one canceled cab, one missed connection, one punch from life, to remind me how fragile order is.

# Be Grateful but Prepare for Chaos

So here’s the truth I carried back from Tamil Nadu:

Chaos is the default. Order is the exception.

If you find yourself living in order—steady marriage, healthy children, work that pays, health that holds—pause. That is privilege. That is not the norm. Be grateful for it. And prepare for the day chaos knocks, because it surely will.