In defence of leisure

For many women, finding moments to relax and just be is an unknown concept; any idle time brings guilt and judgement. A picture project on social media capturing women at leisure shines the spotlight on the importance of doing nothing writes Shakti Swaminathan.

It’s 7 am on a weekday. A woman lingers at a street corner, chai in hand, leafing through the morning newspaper and chatting with other women. It feels hard to imagine, doesn’t it? Now replace her with a man — it suddenly seems ordinary. In this imagined moment, is the woman neglecting her responsibilities or simply taking time for herself?

In a famous 1950s marketing study by psychologist Mason Haire, housewives rejected instant coffee because it symbolised laziness and a failure to care for their families, despite its convenience. A little over a decade ago, an MLA from Indore, Usha Thakur, had remarked that “new generation mothers are lazy, hence feed their children Maggi”. And then, there’s the story of lazy Susan. Although the origin story of the lazy Susan is muddled, the inventor of the convenient turntable may have simply wanted to avoid the drudgery of serving guests — yet the name lazy Susan stuck. Women, across time, have been tagged lazy for taking shortcuts, saving time, or even taking a moment for themselves.

When leisure invites scorn

Surabhi Yadav, founder of the NGO Sajhe Sapne, realised that labour is measured in economic terms, and since homemakers don’t leave their homes, their caregiving and household work remains invisible, unquantifiable,  unpaid, underappreciated but unceasing. For many women, finding guilt-free time to do nothing is an alien concept, and idleness is equated with worthlessness. In a patriarchal system, this belief is ingrained through years of conditioning. So women keep working, constantly.

Leisure, defined as a time when one drops their guard and is at ease, is also a measure of how free a society is. It is shaped by class, caste, geography, and gender. For many men, being idle is a choice — a right earned as breadwinners or future providers. For women, especially homemakers, it is often treated as an accusation. Advertising reinforces this, portraying hyperactive mothers who wake before dawn, look immaculate, and enthusiastically juggle spotless uniforms and perfectly nutritious meals.

Basanti: Exploration of leisure

Surabhi Yadav’s Basanti: Women at Leisure project on Instagram challenges this narrative. Through her photographs, she captures women in carefree moments-hanging upside down from trees, enjoying ice lollies or just taking a nap.

Through her work, Surabhi observed that collective spaces are crucial for women to experience leisure without guilt. In rural India, such spaces often emerge during weddings and religious gatherings. Women gain rare opportunities to travel, sing, dance, and bond with friends. In Surabhi’s hometown in Bundelkhand, women are not allowed in wedding baraats. Instead, they subvert norms by dressing as men, ghoonghat intact and playfully beating the men in the house with sticks.

Yet in urban spaces, safety concerns and social judgement limit women to the home — balconies, terraces, watching television, and the oft-trivialised ‘kitty parties’. “Urban spaces are capitalistic and recreation is measured in terms of productivity,” she adds.Even leisure activities like dance classes are tracked through calories and steps, turning rest into labour.

Grandmothers and leisure

Author Sowmya Rajendran’s recent picture book, ‘My Ammama is Now a Cat’, offers a different lens on rest. It is inspired by her grandmother, Lakshmy Kutti, and tells the story of a young girl who notices her grandmother behaving like a cat — sleeping often, watching birds, even seeming to grow whiskers. Ammamma embraces this identity, declaring herself a cat. Beneath its whimsy lies a deeper commentary on rest. “My grandmother was different because she was unapologetic about needing rest. Her instinct for self-preservation was always part of her personality and she protected it more as she grew older,” says Sowmya, recalling how other women called her grandmother “lazy”, yet she remained unfazed, laughing it off while continuing her rituals — like applying generous amounts of ‘snow’ to her face. “Her life wasn’t easy, but she never lost the zeal for it. She advised her daughters to take a nap and all her granddaughters to marry some white dude and escape the drudgery of marriage in India,” laughs Sowmya.

Surabhi’s work often elicits emotional responses. Women approach her after public talks, hugging her or shaking her hand silently, grateful for the validation. For men, her work is often a revelation. Many ask how they can help, having never considered what leisure looks like for the women in their lives. Sowmya echoes this observation: “When growing up, I was surrounded by women who were always working. Even when we were guests at other people’s homes, the women were expected to go to the kitchen and help out. As is common in a patriarchal system, it was mostly women who imposed these expectations on other women. The men were completely uninterested because they could afford to be so.”

Popular culture reflects these realities too. In the Tamil film, ‘Thaai Kizhavi’ (Godmother), three middle-aged sons discover that their elderly mother has been secretly travelling to Madurai every weekend. Assuming she has been buying gold for the family, they are shocked when she reveals she has simply been wandering the city, eating sweets, watching movies, and dining alone. Her unapologetic joy resonated widely — with a mother who once wished for Covid-19 so she could “rest, alone in quarantine” and another who longs for “me-time” while caring for ailing in-laws.

But has anything changed for younger women? Surabhi believes progress is uneven. “The younger women from north and central India visually know what they want, but structurally nothing has changed.”

To see and understand

At her storytelling sessions, Sowmya begins by asking children about their grandparents — their likes and dislikes. She says, “It is amazing how little children know about their grandparents beyond being this person at home who gives them food or is always watching TV!” This exercise encourages children to see grandparents as individuals with histories and desires. “Most children are still growing up in homes where it is the women who do the bulk of the housework. Since the book specifically draws attention to women’s labour, they become aware of how much doing is involved in the running of a home.”

Surabhi reflects on her own family. “My father would tease my mother about her wanting a wristwatch, but never got her one,” she says.

Why would a woman need a watch when she doesn’t go to work? People would argue.

Perhaps the question is not about timekeeping, but about time itself — \who owns it, who deserves it, and who is denied it.