Part 12 of 19 in Trust Yourself: A Guide for Indian Parents← Part 11Part 13 →
I was sitting in my clinic the other day, reviewing patient files, when a thought struck me — one that has been brewing for quite some time. As I watch children being ushered from one activity to another, from tuitions to music lessons, I often wonder if we’re missing the forest for the trees. Indian children today are among the most scheduled on the planet. And then we act surprised when they find themselves at a loss on a Sunday afternoon without a screen or a structured activity to occupy them. The real curriculum, I believe, is not what we diligently fill their schedules with, but what we leave out — it’s the free time we allow them to explore on their own.
I’ve seen this play out in real-life scenarios. Take the case of Imran from Jaipur. His school’s project on ‘My City’ demanded a model. Most parents rushed to buy ready-made thermocol skylines. But Imran’s father, a tailor, had a different approach. Instead of purchasing a pre-packaged model, they closed the shop early and took a walk through their lane. Imran sketched everything he saw — the measuring tape in the shop, the iron, the tea stall. When it was time to present, the teacher was initially unimpressed by his simple drawings. That is, until he spoke. Imran had a story, an experience, a connection. The ready-made models couldn’t articulate the same. This walk, this unstructured time, had given Imran something invaluable — perspective.
This leads me to contend with an unsettling truth: In our attempt to build a future for our children, are we inadvertently stifling their innate curiosity? Curiosity, after all, is not a module one can purchase. It grows in the quiet gaps of unstructured time. When we fill every moment of a child’s day with planned activities, we leave no room for their mind to wander, to question, to innovate. Compliance becomes the norm, and curiosity fades into the background noise.
I often think back to a conversation I had with a founder I backed. He spoke about how important it was to allow his team some unstructured time at work. This wasn’t downtime; it was innovation time. When we discussed this, it struck me how similar this concept is to what children need. In both cases, the goal is the same: to foster an environment where creativity and problem-solving can flourish naturally.
Consider the story of two brothers from Sikar. One was sent to a residential coaching institute at fourteen, while the other stayed at home, attending a local school. The elder brother excelled in solving problems but lacked clarity on why he wanted to pursue engineering. The younger brother, who had the luxury of unstructured evenings, not only could fix a cooler but also knew why he wanted to become an engineer. It’s not that coaching never helps, but when we delete childhood in pursuit of ranks, we are left with individuals who can answer questions but are often unsure of the questions themselves.
Free time is not about leaving children to their devices — literally or figuratively. A phone, after all, is just another kind of schedule, dictated by someone else. True free time is when a child chooses what captures their attention — be it a tap, a book, or simply the view outside the window. This is where boredom becomes the lobby of curiosity. If we furnish this lobby with yet another class or activity, curiosity never gets the chance to enter.
I recall reading about a girl in Mysore who spent her free Sundays observing ants in her backyard. Her uncle dismissed it as ‘timepass’, but by the end of three weeks, she could distinguish between ants that carried food and those that fought. No exam will test this knowledge, but the ability to observe until something becomes interesting is a skill that every exam, and indeed life, demands. Tuition can teach answers to pre-set questions, but it is free time that nurtures the ability to stay with a question until it unfolds.
Growing up in India, we often hear about the pram analogy — where parents keep a child safely contained for convenience. In the modern context, the pram has been replaced by a stringent timetable. A child is moved from one supervised activity to another under the guise of safety and productivity. But true growth comes when we allow them the freedom to explore, to wander, to be unsupervised within safe limits. A corridor, a kitchen floor, a compound — these are the modern-day versions of being let down from the pram.
In my experience, the same logic applies to the founders I mentor. Startups, like children, need room to explore and pivot. A rigid business plan can stifle innovation, just as a rigid schedule can stifle curiosity. I’ve seen founders who succeed because they allow themselves the flexibility to deviate from their original plan when necessary. Similarly, when children are allowed to deviate from structured activities, they often discover interests and talents that might have remained hidden.
So, to my fellow parents and reformers, I pose this challenge. Grant your children the gift of free time. Allow them one unscheduled stretch a day, and protect it fiercely. You are not indulging laziness; you are nurturing curiosity. You are providing the only space where they can discover who they are when no one else is watching.
This is not to say structured learning is without merit. But like any other aspect of life, balance is key. The mind, like a muscle, requires both exercise and rest. It is in those moments of rest that the mind consolidates learning, forms new connections, and embarks on journeys of its own making.
Ultimately, free time is not merely a luxury — it is a necessity. It is the soil in which the seeds of curiosity and creativity are sown. It is the curriculum that we often overlook, but one that offers the richest lessons. And as I sit here, reflecting on the myriad ways free time has enriched my life and the lives of those around me, I am convinced that it is the most important curriculum of all.
Let us, therefore, be brave enough to leave some gaps in our children’s schedules. Let us trust in their ability to fill those gaps with wonder, exploration, and the boundless curiosity that comes naturally to them. Because in the end, the most profound learning happens not when we are told what to do, but when we have the freedom to discover it ourselves.