Chasing simplicity

Have you spotted anyone without a cell phone at a train station or walking without headphones? Neither have I, but I’m one of them. My colleague often talks about how he goes to these yoga retreats every two months for his 'renewal'. When I asked him what they do there, he said they have meditation and mindfulness sessions, share their experiences with complete strangers, practice healthy eating, relaxation and healing, and do workshops that brings cerebral stillness. It kind of knocks me out because I’m not a yoga person and always wondered how external guidance could calm (people) down. It's ironic that in this fast-paced world with distractions at your finger tips, simplicity is so out of reach.

It’s funny how life has changed, isn't it? I remember the days when the only “connection” that mattered was the one you had with your neighbors, friends, and family. Growing up in India, the pace of life was different. At least per my memory, not sure how things are now. Mornings started with the smell of masala chai my mother used to make, the rustling of Hindustan Times newspaper sheets, the breakfast  I used to have (usually parathas and sabzi), to the sound of kabadiwalas and sabziwalas, while the kids played in the streets. Ah! That's my therapy, my white noise.

There was a simplicity in how we lived. We didn’t need much to be happy—just a cricket bat (yeah, I used to play that), a few friends, and the promise of a good game after school before the era of tuitions took over. Festivals were community events; everyone’s door was open, and we celebrated together, from sharing sweets to making Ravana during Dusshera. I can't remember the last time I celebrated Diwali with my people, but Diwali, to me is the memory of my childhood when the first priority was the Lakshmi pooja, lighting up simple mitti diyas (no fancy decoration whatsoever), followed by circulating sweets boxes to the neigbours, and then coming home to burst crackers. It all changed now.  Makar Sankranti used to be a great community event. When I think of it, it takes me back to our Jammu days, living in BSF quarters on the second floor and all the kids used to gather on the terrace to fly kites. It wasn’t just about the kites or throwing water filled balloons on strangers during Holi; it was about being together, shouting in unison when someone’s kite was cut, and the joy of the simple things.

Even our vacations meant so much. Traveling to our village house in Ayodhya was a nice break. People used to feed guests with fresh dudh (milk), jaggery in copper glasses back then unlike today when biscuits and tea took over. There was something so refreshing about waking up to the sound of birds, walking barefoot on the earth, and picking mangoes straight from the "aam ke bagh" my Chacha had. Back then (almost 25 years ago), there were no toilets in our village, so everyone would go to the fields—that was quite an experience! I won’t go into details, but those experiences were priceless. If you know what I mean :D  How I enjoyed plucking peas, sugarcane from our farms that my Chacha manages now. The last time I went to our village in Ayodhya was in 2011 for just 2 days! Why, what took me this long?!!!. 

Also, shopping wasn’t about brands; it was about the experience. Walking through the local market, bargaining with the vendors, and choosing fresh produce—it was an event in itself. I remember how I made my Papa spend hours in the market in Jammu, just to buy a sweatshirt when I was in 10th standard. I wanted something really cool/stylish - thanks to the teen hormones. The joy of finding that perfect sweatshirt after hours of browsing was so fulfilling. I hate online shopping! I watched my first movie "Kaho na pyar hai" with papa in Jammu and then bought stickers and posters of Hrithik to paste in my secret diary. Lol, crush. Man! What days.

Life now feels like a race. We’re always connected, but are we truly connecting? The hustle, the deadlines, the notifications—it’s all so overwhelming tbh. Sometimes, I find myself longing for that slower pace, where the most urgent thing was getting home in time to have the evening tea with the family. (My friends back in Delhi knew I had a cut off time of 5:30 pm to reach home as my folks and I always used to have our evening chai session together. lol!)

Cutest cow ever!

I guess what I’m saying is that I miss the small joys, the simple pleasures that used to define our days. Maybe that’s why the idea of traveling to small towns, visiting roadside dhabas, and just being close to nature feels so appealing. It’s a way to reconnect with that part of life that we’ve somehow left behind in the rush to “move forward.” Well, what I mean is that it’s not about running away from the present but about finding a way back to what truly makes us happy. The life we had —it wasn’t perfect, but it was pure, uncomplicated, and full of warmth. 

I want to keep a cow as a pet - that's my wish. Cow is my favorite animal. This is my picture with a random cow roaming around my Gurgaon home when I visited India last year.

In a way, I think we are all searching for that balance, that peace that comes from living simply and meaningfully. Maybe that’s why my colleague finds value in those yoga retreats—it’s a step towards slowing down for them, tuning out the noise, and rediscovering what really matters. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time we all took a little break, paused the race, and found our way back to the simplicities that once made us who we are.