I remember when my son was little, one day we started playing a video game where we had to track animals in a zoo. I got excited and started planning the whole operation on how to reach each animal at top speed. Imagine my surprise when I found that my son was in no such rush. Rather than moving quickly, he was keen on stopping and exploring everything along our zoo path. He would click on the flowers and they would start singing or he would tap some monkeys and they would start dancing. Perplexed, I pushed him, “We can’t waste time, we are on a mission. Why are you getting distracted by these silly things?” He looked at me with surprise and said, “Mum, the point of this game is not to speed through it, but to enjoy it.”

This poignant memory has stayed with me, and I keep going back to my son’s words ever so often. The video game is a metaphor for life in so many ways. Is the point of life to speed through it or enjoy it while we can?

We are made to believe from a very early age that the point of life is to do everything as fast as possible. Children are constantly told, “Be quick,” “Do it fast,” “Don’t waste time,” and any slowing down is seen as laziness, dawdling and basically a sign of weakness. In a recent conversation, a young woman sighed, “I am falling hopelessly behind in life.” Curious about this often heard sentiment, I asked, “Behind whom exactly? Surprised by my question, she laughed ruefully and said, “You know… people.” She was 22 and had recently started her first job. She spoke to me about how there was this “feeling that people were doing better and moving faster than me.” This brought immense guilt and shame, and a sense that “I am left behind.” A sentiment that almost every child, young person or adult I meet has echoed. A 10-year-old who is burdened by the idea that “I should be more productive.” A 15-year-old who has spent every waking hour in the past few months studying for his tenth board exams, but carries fear of “I am going to fail as I am too slow. I should be faster.” A 35-year-old working mother who is trying to fit in full-time work, parenting two small children and running a house and still berates herself with, “I am terrible at time management. I should be able to do more, be efficient and not waste time.” The tyranny of the “shoulds”, “do more” and “not waste time.” Because of these illusory “people” we believe have it all together, who are on top of things and do not waste any time. Where are these “people” though? I have never met them, nor has anyone I talk to, but we all imagine them all out there, living their perfect fast lives.

“I used to feel so guilty, as no matter what I did, I was never able to be on top of things. It was like being stuck on a hamster wheel”, 25-year-old Shyla shared with me. When I asked Shyla what had helped her to step out of the hamster wheel, she introduced me to the idea of “cosmic insignificance” (coined by the author Oliver Burkeman). She said, “Don’t you think we take ourselves and our stay on this earth too seriously? We are like a blip in the history of humankind? Even if we do something truly remarkable, two generations down will not remember us. Isn’t the cosmic insignificance of our life enough for us not to give
a damn?”

It was a truly liberating perspective, and her words have stayed with me. Somewhere in knowing our insignificance, we can find so much peace in our imperfection and impermanence. It is like the epiphany and awe we experience when we are in nature, standing amid majestic mountains, feeling so insignificant in the universe yet so deeply connected.

We find ourselves in a cultural moment where we are lured by dangerous, seductive ideas like “How to stay on top of things” and “Learn to manage your time and be productive.” As a society, we are stuck in rolling the Sisyphean time management rock up the hill, only for it to roll down again. Living in an illusion that a day will come when we will master it all and live happily ever after. This idea is being sold to us as the ultimate hack for living a worthy life, but as my little son pointed out, what is the point?

The growing horrors of wars, genocide, poverty and climate crisis put together have led to millions of deaths. It becomes even more important now than ever to pause and wonder where this politics of productivity “do fast, do more” is driving us to? Some of you might be at the beginning of your life on this earth, and some of you, like me, might be way past the midpoint. So why speed race the rest of our time and wonder at the end, where did it
all go?

Instead, I would like to invite you to step into a position of “loitering with intent”. This term is used by Narrative Therapists to describe a stance of curiosity and unhurried, intentional exploration. What would life look like if we could loiter with intent? Now, many of you might flinch at the idea, as it does sound a little radical. You might be in the midst of your board exams, working towards your monthly targets, and parenting little children, so the idea of slowing down and loitering might seem a little far-fetched.

I am a campaigner for a slow life, and loitering with intent is, for me, an act of resistance. It could be a tiny act, but it counts. I have taken to rambling, dawdling and lingering at most things I do. Every day, I walk through the beautiful park in front of our house aimlessly. No phone calls, no podcast, no step count. A 12th-grade student, in the middle of his boards, takes time out most days to make art. A father I met recently turned down a lucrative promotion as it would mean time away from his family.

I think of that zoo game often with the flowers singing, the monkeys dancing, and my son patiently reminding me to slow down. So, perhaps, the real invitation is this. To refuse the quiet pressure to optimise every moment, to always be moving ahead, eyes fixed on what comes next. Not everything valuable in life needs to be chased. To make room for stillness, a conversation that meanders, for wanderings, for unplanned detours. Sitting quietly without reaching for a screen. There are spaces where life can linger. Some things are found only when we choose to loiter, slowly, with intent.

In this column, Shelja Sen curates the knowhow of the children and youth she has the honour of working with. Email her at shelja.sen@childrenfirstindia.com