The Art of Doing Nothing

Idling is such a bad word these days. A word most people cannot even understand forget relish. Just the other day, the kids were asking me about how I spent weekends without any television or even a library. Saturday mornings - Aah, the very phrase conjures certain inexplicable aromas, tastes and memories. The main event of the day was the herbal oil massage. This was followed by a thorough bath (administered by my mom), not in the blessed safety of the bathroom but out in the open backyard. Seated on the washing stone with an old petticoat thrown over my head, I was but a quiet observer watching the myriad activities happening around me for my benefit. Our house help would be instructed to continuously pour lukewarm water over my head while my mother would scrub and rub with great vigour. Gram flour and shikakhai and god knows what else would be massaged on to my body and hair. My mother would do it all with graceful abandon that comes only with years of practice. Whilst I was worried that I'd probably become blind due to a straying blob of shikhakai in my eye, my mother would carry on with her job, casually exchanging pleasantries over the common wall with the neighbor.

The post bath activities included the elaborate process of drying the hair. Now, you might just wonder how long could that take! Switch on the hair dryer and get done with it, right? But not according to my Mother! She would have hot burning coal ready, on which the Sambrani powder (Benzoin Resin which is widely used in India not just for drying hair but to prevent colds as well!) would be gently sprinkled. This would give rise to smoky and yet fragrant snake-like vapours over which my long tresses would be gingerly fanned out . It took ages for any drying to happen but gave ample opportunity to slip into a semi-comatose state.

After such a bath, a lunch of pepper infused garlic rasam accompanied with roasted potatoes and rice vadam (crisps)followed by a long nap was a must.No interruptions from television programs, no classes to rush to , no errands to run. Just an entire day devoted to stress-free indulgences. My job on Saturdays was to do 'nothing' but simply succumb to the ministrations, massages and meal.

I saw my kids looking at me with screwed up noses. "All your Saturdays were spent bathing, eating and napping? That's it?"

Well, what can I say! My Saturdays were spent in a little town were time stood still.My life was attuned to a different rhythm- a pace which was comforting, calming and ever so carefree, where doing nothing was not considered a crime but a way of life!