Slow Living in the Fast Lane: Why I Now Time My Tea, Not My To-Do List

 

I want to confess something today: I used to time my shower, my meals, and once, even a conversation on my phone (it went on for 11 minutes — I panicked). I was a proud participant in the Global Olympics of Business, where the gold medal was a burnout and a badge that read, “I Survived one more day.”

But then one day, my body issued an ultimatum — in the form of a mysterious back pain(Sciatica pain) while walking on a pleasant day. Walking?. Not even something dramatic like lifting a dumbbell or chasing children. Just a simple walk. That’s when I realized: life wasn’t meant to be a speed-run game with “Productivity” as the final boss.

So I did the unthinkable — I slowed down. Not because I’m enlightened, but because I physically couldn’t bend to pick up laundry anymore.

I think there’s a Myth of the Multitasking Martyr

You know that friend who says, “I thrive on stress!” with a jittery laugh and a twitching eye? That used to be me. I believed that the more tabs I had open (both on my browser and in my brain), the more impressive I looked. I was always on — doing things with my children while stirring curry, listening to a podcast while cooking, and planning dinner while still chewing lunch. My children have also learned that habit. They always ask me, “Maa, what for dinner today?” while eating lunch. They have formed the habit of setting me up for the other task while I am still hung up on one task. Huh!

But somewhere between juggling deadlines and dropping half-cooked rotis on the floor, I began to miss... myself. My own presence. My ability to sit in silence without wondering if I’d accidentally become unemployed.

That’s When I Entered The Slow Living Experiment

This wasn’t some grand Instagrammable shift with white linen clothes and succulents in terracotta pots. No, my version of slow living began with saying “no” to one unnecessary task, cleaning everything squeaky clean, putting everything at the right spot everytime, and watching the ceiling fan spin in quiet rebellion.

I started by doing one thing at a time. For instance, drinking tea while only drinking tea. Not scrolling, not texting, not watching a video about “10 Ways to Improve Your Tea Game.” Just sipping and letting my brain taste the silence.

It was weird at first — like when you remove your headphones and realize your house actually makes a lot of creaky noises. But then, I started noticing small joys again. Like the way steam curls off the cup. Or the fact that my children look mildly offended every time I exhale deeply.

So That Day I Watched Rice Cook

One afternoon, in a bold act of rebellion, I stood and watched rice cook. That’s right. No distractions. Just me and the bubbling pot of rice. Around the 7-minute mark, my husband walked in, looked at me like I had joined a silent cult, and asked, “Everything okay?”

I smiled serenely. “Just bonding with basmati,” I replied. Of course with a smile.

He backed away slowly.

But let me tell you—that rice? Absolute perfection. Fluffy, fragrant, each grain standing tall like it had something to prove. A far cry from my usual “Slack special”—you know, the kind where I start replying to one message and come back to find my rice has turned into a sticky lump of betrayal. Apparently, when you actually pay attention to your food, it behaves—like a kid finally getting the praise they've craved all week. And oh, the classic: start the rice, then decide it’s the perfect time to wash dishes. Even as the voice in my head screams, “It’s done, stop scrubbing that spoon!”—I persist. One dish too many, and the rice turns into a tragic, gloopy mess. And there I am again, wondering: was that multitasking moment really worth sabotaging dinner?

Now I Believe That Fast Isn’t Always Efficient

Here’s something the world doesn’t tell you — doing everything fast doesn’t mean doing everything well. I used to think I was being “efficient” by squeezing three errands at one time. But then I’d forget why I entered the grocery store, walked out with six lemons, and cried in the parking lot because I needed onions and most importantly milk for my children.

Slow living helped me realize that life isn’t about cramming, it’s about curating. Instead of hoarding productivity hacks, I started asking: what’s essential?

And let me tell you one thing, responding to WhatsApp forwards from relatives is not essential. Not at all. In fact it’s not necessary at all to reply to WhatsApp forwards.

Micro-Moments of Mindfulness 

Here are a few small, hilarious ways I started practicing slow living without turning into a Himalayan monk:

Toothpaste Therapy: I now brush my teeth looking out the window. It’s therapeutic to silently judge joggers at 6 AM.

One-Sock Meditation: When folding laundry, I pair socks like I’m arranging a marriage — “Do you share the same thickness? Color values? Goals?”

Dishwashing Zen: I wash each plate slowly, pretending I’m in a 90s Bollywood rain song. It helps.

Slowing Down Made Me Less Grumpy

When I stopped rushing, I started noticing things — like my girls wearing makeup with such perfection, or the fact that my children don’t actually care if dinner is 12 minutes late. I had time to think, reflect, and — dare I say — be amusing again. I cracked jokes that weren’t sarcastic stress-relief bombs. I became less of a snapping turtle and more of a relaxed, storytelling tortoise.

Now I Do Other Things, like:

1. Sleep (real, non-doom-scrolled sleep)

2. Taste buds that work

3. Conversations that lasted more than “How was your day?” — “Busy.”

4. A sense of control over my time, even when life throws curveballs

No, I’m Not Always Calm — And That’s Okay

I’ll be honest. I still lose it when my relatives don’t pick up my phone or reply “K”  or an emoji to my 3-paragraph emotional message. But now, I recognize that not everything needs a reaction. Some things just need… tea.

Slow living hasn’t made me perfect. It’s made me present — and oddly proud of knowing what my curtains smell like at 2 PM on a Wednesday.

What I Think: Slow Living Is Not Laziness — It’s Strategy

If I’m constantly overwhelmed, I don’t need another app or productivity course. I might just need to breathe, blink slowly, and notice the way sunlight hits my kitchen counter. Or how many leaves my plants have produced overnight.

And if I can’t find peace sitting still, I won’t find it while sprinting.

So next time someone asks what I’m doing, I won’t say “Nothing.”
I will Say: “I’m bonding with basmati.”

They’ll either laugh or slowly back away — both outcomes are satisfying.