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"And God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made" (Genesis 2:2).

Even God, the ultimate creator, took a break. A sanctified day of rest. Today, when we casually toss around the words rest and leisure between frantic meetings and endless deadlines, we often forget the deeper meaning behind them. Everyone craves a break now and then — it's a feeling that bubbles up quietly in our everyday conversations, tucked somewhere between discussions about workload and life goals.

But have we ever really paused to wonder: which came first, labour or leisure?

Think about it — before the organized hunt for food and shelter, humans possibly lived closer to a state of natural leisure, free from rigid schedules. Labour arrived much later, as survival demanded more collective effort. Slowly but surely, work took over, pushing leisure to the sidelines.

Some might wonder: why even talk about leisure today, in an economy where hustle is worn as a badge of honor? However, leisure is far from a trivial concern. When the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was proclaimed in 1948—following a global depression and two devastating world wars—the right to leisure, cultural participation, and travel was enshrined in its core articles (Articles 24, 27, and 13). This inclusion speaks volumes about how essential rest is to a balanced, dignified life.

Paul Lafargue’s book The Right to Be Lazy and Other Studies (1907) offers a powerful political perspective on leisure, viewing it not as indulgence but as a fundamental challenge to the exploitative demands of capitalist labor systems. Further expanding on the significance of leisure, Chris Rojek in The Labour of Leisure: Capitalism and Leisure Theory (1985) defines it as more than a reward for work: "To wit: leisure is not the reward for work; it is an asset for the community; it reduces crime; it broadens mutual understanding; it is the secret of a healthy mind and body; it is all of this and many other things that ordinary and most educated people automatically connect with the good life." Thus, both historical human rights frameworks and critical thinkers remind us that leisure is not a luxury, but a vital aspect of human flourishing.

In India, our relationship with leisure has its own story. Before colonial rule, many communities worked early mornings and reserved afternoons for rest, family, and casual conversations — a slower, more humane rhythm. Colonialism disrupted that flow, imposing foreign time structures that linger even today. Students sit through tiring noon classes; IT professionals grind for 12+ hours a day. Somewhere along the way, the joy of taking a breath, of simply being, got lost.

Back in 1911, W.H. Davies captured this sentiment beautifully in his poem Leisure:

"What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare..."

and it closes with a heavy truth:

"A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare."

Yes, we all need a little time — time to simply stand, to stare, and to look both around us and within ourselves. There’s so much we miss every single day. The smiling face of the security guard at the office gate, the shy bloom of a new flower in the corner of our garden, the changing colours of the sky just before sunset — all these tiny miracles pass us by as we rush through life. Maybe it’s time we paused. Maybe it’s time we gave something back — a smile, a nod, a moment of real presence. To feel, even for a second, the quiet wonder that this universe offers with open arms. Not everything worth noticing is loud; often, it’s the softest moments that remind us we are, after all, part of something far bigger than ourselves.

Leisure isn’t laziness. It's an act of self-renewal, a political and social necessity. It’s about reconnecting with your surroundings, smelling the air, and allowing yourself the freedom to just be. Perhaps it’s time we started treating it that way. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, a prominent German Enlightenment thinker, once said, "Let us be lazy in everything except in loving, drinking, and being lazy itself."

Let’s stop romanticizing restless work

Bertrand Russell in his book In Praise of Idleness observes that “I want to say, in all seriousness, that a great deal of harm is being done in the modern world by belief in the virtuousness of work, and that the road to happiness and prosperity lies in an organized diminution of work”. There’s no shortage of movies/serials and books that celebrate the image of a hardworking mother — sleeves rolled up, hair messy, cooking endlessly in the dim corners of the kitchen. These scenes tug at our heartstrings. We, the children, often get emotional when we speak of such sacrifices.

But let’s be honest — when life opens new doors for us, how often do we pause and look back? How often do we actually wait for her?

In truth, we live in a culture that glorifies non-stop work. Corporations hand out ‘Best Employee of the Year’ awards, not necessarily to appreciate real human beings, but to nudge everyone else into working even harder. The condition of teachers today paints an even bleaker picture. Caught in a mad rush to complete endless documentation for accreditations, most hardly have time to sip a peaceful cup of tea in the canteen or browse a book outside the syllabus in the college library. “Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains,” Rousseau once wrote. Earlier, the chains were colonialism, racism, religious fundamentalism. Today, the chains are made of endless, restless labour.

Geo Baby’s Malayalam film The Great Indian Kitchen holds up a mirror to this grim reality. It dares to show how leisure — even basic rest — is systematically denied to housewives in patriarchal Indian families. The woman’s silent, tireless work is applauded, but only so long as she never questions it. The film bravely critiques a culture that normalizes and glorifies this invisible slavery.

That’s why it’s important to celebrate movies that challenge this social order — and also those that celebrate leisure itself. Films like Rakshadhikari Baiju Oppu, 1983, and Neelakasham Pachakadal Chuvanna Bhoomi remind us that life is not just about working and achieving.

Take Baiju, for instance — a character who, even at 40s, runs his small-town sports club with infectious joy. Watching him, we realize that true happiness isn’t found in corporate successes or fat paychecks. Dileesh Pothan’s character in Rakshadikari Baiju Oppu learns this too — his luxury and business deals feel hollow compared to the earthy happiness Baiju finds playing a cricket match under the open sky. Neelakasham Pachakadal Chuvanna Bhoomi shows travel not just as an escape, but as a necessary act of renewal — a way to stitch your soul back together.

Maybe it’s time we rethink what we celebrate.

Let's honour travel, a slow coffee with a friend, a lazy walk with no destination, a long bath in a flowing river, a good night’s sleep, a silly late-night chat with your loved ones, a few quiet moments alone, and most importantly — a little space to dream.

Because sometimes, the simplest things hold the key to living a life truly free.

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