From my childhood, I carry a quiet memory of the solemnity that surrounded the Lenten season. It would begin with Ash Wednesday, when we, still young and earnest, tried our best to keep the ash on our foreheads undisturbed until the day’s end—more than anything sacred, it was just the fun of it.

There was, however, one part of the season I didn’t quite welcome—the quiet paring down of meals at home, when meat and fish became rare, and the table seemed to reflect the restraint the season asked of us.

All of a sudden, the sweet treats that once seemed abundant became a rare indulgence. I also vividly remember my favourite aunt—may she rest in peace—who would quietly keep to a single meal each day, carrying out all her duties without missing a beat, her discipline worn with a kind of gentle grace. Another memory that lingers is my childhood confusion over the term “Good Friday.” I could never quite understand how a day marked by such sorrow could be called “good”—especially when, in Malayalam, it was known as “Dukha Velliazhicha,” which translates quite plainly to “Sad Friday.”

This Lenten season has felt more meaningful than most I can remember. In ways I hadn’t expected, I found myself letting go of things I once believed I could never do without—and doing so with a surprising ease. I often find myself thinking of the words of prophet Isaiah, “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.”

These days, I find a deep sense of comfort in those verses. They also bring back, with no small amount of amusement, a memory from work—when I told my colleagues and managers I would be taking leave for “Good Friday,” only to have the entire group, including the head of HR, wish me and my family a “very happy and prosperous Good Friday.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the irony then—and even more so now. In a world that often feels like it’s losing its bearings, perhaps we really could do with a “happy” Good Friday after all.