Austerity is not just a matter of common sense: it is also a good example for kids
What’s a-u-s-t-e-r-i-t-y, mamma?” my friend’s 10-year-old asked her one day, raising her head from the morning newspaper she had been perusing with much seriousness. It was the weekend, but my friend, an HR professional, knew there was no better time to answer questions than when it is triggered by genuine curiosity.
“It’s when you think before you use anything,” she said after a moment’s thought. “For instance, there’s bright sunshine outside, but we have a light on inside the room to read, because the chairs are placed away from the window. If we were to practice austerity, we’d need to rearrange the furniture.”
Sometimes, it takes just an innocent question for us to see how simply we can economise around the house. Mother and daughter immediately set about reorganising the room: at the end of a Sunday morning filled with much laughter and bonding, they had a brand-new looking room and had also obviated the need for switching on the light to read their morning papers together.
Children can usually be depended on to look at the world with brand new eyes, showing the way away from the beaten path. At the same time, they pick up adult mannerisms and methods unconsciously, thereby perpetuating ‘bad’ habits that we may justify in our minds.
For instance, a friend with a perpetual weight problem made it a point to never finish everything on her plate, believing it showcased her resistance to food. She never thought about the practice twice till she noticed her young son walking away from the table with his plate still half-full. When reprimanded with the usual “Do you know how many people in the world don’t get enough to eat?” he retorted calmly, “But you never finish a meal either.” It was enough of a wake-up call for my friend to overhaul both her cooking and her eating habits.
| | | | A little thought and consideration can make a world of difference when it comes to austere measures | | | | |
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In a way, it’s about history coming full circle. Time was when neither the urbane Jawaharlal Nehru nor the abstemious Lal Bahadur Shastri thought anything of leading austere lifestyles for the greater cause of the country. India has come a long way since then. But, in urban India at least, it’s indisputable that the journey has been bogged down with baggage of the wrong sort. Overwhelmed by the easier availability of everything, we’ve behaved like kids in a candy store, consuming heedlessly till we fall sick—not necessarily in the physical sense but definitely in an emotional, spiritual sense. As we rushed to compensate for the new societal contours—smaller families, more mobility—with material possessions, we’ve discarded the principles of our founding fathers.
Ironically, it’s our politicians who have returned ‘austerity’ to the front pages. Shashi Tharoor may never match up to Shastri, but, thanks to him, we are looking again at our unthinking spending habits. If even a per cent of those of us who tsk-tsked at his cattle-class tweet begin tightening our belts, he would have probably inspired the biggest cut-the-costs movement in the past six decades.
And, when you come to think about it, there’s probably no better definition for the austere life than the one provided by my friend to her 10-year-old. A little thought, a little consideration can make a world of difference. Before we flick the switch, let’s ask ourselves if we really need the artificial light. Before we leave the room, let’s switch off the television. Before we buy or cook food, let’s develop an idea of how much is enough. Before we take out the car, or continue to use the printer on its one-side-only factory settings, let’s ask ourselves if we can walk or bus to our destination, or if the printer can print on both sides of the paper.
And then, let’s tweet about it too.
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