“…is, of course, how we spend our lives.” – This is a quote from Annie Dillard, an American author. I haven’t read her books. But this quote repeatedly pops up on my timeline on social media and on several podcasts.
It is an insightful observation of how the small things we accomplish direct the bigger goals in our lives. It warns us against useless activities that could hamper our well-being and creative energies. (My biggest fear is getting sucked into gossip and family drama!)
They can cause much of our time to disappear without anything to show for it.
But do we always have to show something, some output from our time? Do we have to account for our time all the time? Do we have to justify our existence every second of our life?
As a child, one of my favourite quotes was, ‘An idle brain is a devil’s workshop.’ Interpreting it as a criticism of idleness and those who were idle, I kept myself busy with something or the other. At school, free time was spent completing any pending work. At home, I had my post-school schedule. I had a daily plan for reading, playing, television, and arts and crafts during the holidays.
Four decades ago, holidays meant a lot of idle time since we did not have the busy, always-on entertainment options that we have today. Nor did we have holiday enrichment classes for coding, robotics, painting, or any of the activities and skills that today’s hapless parents and kids sign up for.
In those days, television shows were limited, books, though revered, were not easily accessible, and parents were unavailable. So, we relied on friends to conjure up ‘fun.’
Fun usually meant plenty of games and sports, both indoors and outdoors. At the same time, household chores provided a structure and routine because one would not be excused from them.
And still, despite all the activities we planned, each of us would have idle time, alone time, or ‘me’ time, which we would spend daydreaming. At least, I did.
I had the most fun watching a flower fall or gawking at a bird prance on a tree branch, marvelling at how the trees suddenly turned dark green after the first monsoon showers, wondering what insects caused the tiny ripples in the puddles, or observing a row of ants carry food across our verandah.
Thanks to my Papa who was fond of such observations himself, I was never made to feel guilty of the idle time.
Perhaps all that observing, seeing, and watching gave rise to the writer in me. I regret that I did not write anything back then because my observation skills and attention span have since reduced.
Reading Yuvan Aves’ Intertidal took me back to the carefree days when I would be perched on the low wall separating the marsh from our colony, gazing at the wildflowers and reeds, and squinting excitedly at sudden movements in the undergrowth, expecting a mongoose or waterhen to make an appearance. I did not even have a diary for these sightings!
I neither regret my idle days nor hate having a schedule on most days. Whatever little efficiency I learned as a student, a professional, and a mother was due to the structure and planning in my daily life.
However, I do wish for some unstructured days again because what’s life without some spontaneity? I hardly remember the number of times I finished all my schoolwork before reaching home, but I did reminisce about the ‘Antakshari’ sessions when a teacher remained absent.
The productivity thwarter of my teens was television. Cable television arrived in our lives just when studies took precedence over all other activities. As television tantalised us with its varied content, idle time was equated to TV time, and my parents drilled into my head that the idiot box was the devil’s workshop mentioned in my favourite quote.
Today, I warn my child about social media and how it would eat up her time in tiny, unnoticeable chunks. You decide to check your feed for a second, and before you know it, you have scrolled for an hour.
However, I am in awe of how she and her peers manage their time. A few days ago, she narrated how, during a free hour, they watched the cinematic version (a 1951 movie starring Marlin Brando and Vivien Leigh) of A Street Car Named Desire because the play written by Tenessee Williams is in their English Literature syllabus.
What would we have watched in the 1990s if we had access to the internet at school? Bollywood films? Or perhaps we would have changed from Antakshari to Karaoke?
Had I known Annie Dillard’s quote then, would I have spent my life differently? I think so.
The Plausible Mind 