Leave It To Fate (A Dramatic Monologue) Poem by ashok jadhav

(The stage is quiet. A single lamp glows softly. The speaker stands still, hands unclenched, as if he has just released something invisible.)
I used to grip life tightly—
as if loosening my hands
would make everything disappear.
I believed holding on
was the same as caring.
That controlling every outcome
was proof of commitment.
So I planned.
I calculated.
I worried.
I worried like worry itself
could prevent loss.
(Pause.)
And then came the moment
when my strength
could no longer hold.
Not because I failed—
but because the weight
was never meant
to be carried alone.
That was when
the hardest lesson arrived.
Leave it to fate.
(He exhales.)
Not as defeat.
Not as surrender to hopelessness.
But as an acceptance
that some paths
must walk themselves.
(He paces slowly.)
We are taught to fight—
to push, to insist, to demand.
To believe effort can conquer anything.
And effort matters—
yes, it does.
But there comes a point
where pushing becomes harm,
and holding on
becomes refusal to heal.
(Pause.)
I reached that point.
I stood at the edge of decision,
arms exhausted,
mind burning with questions.
If I let go—
would it fall apart?
If I stop forcing—
will it vanish?
And fate whispered—
not loudly,
but steadily—
Trust.
(He looks upward.)
Trust does not mean
you stop caring.
It means you stop strangling hope
with fear.
To leave it to fate
is not to abandon responsibility.
It is to release the illusion
that you were ever in command.
(Pause.)
When I stopped fighting the current,
I felt it carry me.
Not gently—
not kindly—
but honestly.
It showed me
what was meant to stay
by what refused to leave.
It showed me
what was meant to go
by what slipped away
no matter how hard I held.
(His voice softens.)
I mourned what I lost.
Yes, I did.
Acceptance is not numbness.
It remembers.
But grief felt different
when I no longer blamed myself
for not controlling the uncontrollable.
(Pause.)
Leaving it to fate
taught me patience.
The kind that waits
without demanding answers.
It taught me humility—
not the bowed-head kind,
but the open-handed kind.
(He opens his palms.)
I stopped asking,
"Why didn't this work? "
And began asking,
"What is this teaching me? "
(Pause.)
Fate does not explain itself.
But it does reveal patterns.
Only after letting go
did I see how every ending
was also alignment.
How every closed door
redirected my feet
exactly where I needed to be.
(He steps forward.)
There is peace
in accepting destiny.
Not passive peace—
but grounded peace.
The peace of knowing
that life is larger
than your fear.
(Pause.)
I still choose.
I still act.
I still care deeply.
But I no longer wrestle
with the unknown
as if it were an enemy.
I walk alongside it.
(He breathes in.)
Leave it to fate—
not because you are weak,
but because you are wise enough
to know
what belongs to you
and what never did.
(Long pause.)
I do my part.
And when the rest
is beyond my reach—
I let go.
(The lamp dims. Silence.)