Hustle to Pause

We go to sleep with a hustle in mind to get up at a certain time the next morning. Every night. There might be exceptions but many of us wake up every morning with a long list of tasks to be accomplished during the day. Our mind is exhausted even before it could boot up.

Sound of cars honking impatiently, kids rushing to catch the school bus, parents rushing behind with their tiffin boxes and water bottles, house maids running from one house to another, five people sitting on a bench of three in public transport, robotic announcements at metro stations, train doors hiss open and shut, people sprinting with mobile phone in one hand and laptop bag in another. Sounds like a usual morning scene. Nothing alarming about it. We think believe that this is how we were designed to perform. But what if I say that the design of spaces around us is making us believe that. It is actually the design of entire built environment that is making us go through our lives this way- every day.

We think this is life- actually this is design!  It is in fact very simple to understand. One of the privileges and at the same time burdens of being human is that our lives are exactly what we design it to be.

Our homes, our neighbourhoods, our cities—they can either fuel the hustle or gently interrupt it. They can alter our behaviour, our expectations and our acceptance. Going to a workplace which is 30 kilometres and 2 hours away is acceptable or not, do we even expect a better work-life balance or not or simply are we empathetic towards each other’s daily hustle or not. 

People in megacities have normalised leaving home before sunrise and returning after dark. Over time, they stop questioning the exhaustion. Missing family dinners, skipping morning walks, or living without sunlight on weekdays becomes just “how life is.” This isn’t just a routine—it’s a deeply altered behaviour shaped by the built environment.

In any developed country there are two options- one can choose between slow paced sub-urban lifestyle or fast-moving city life. Unfortunately, developing countries like India can not offer such choices. If we choose one over the other, the choice comes with a hefty cost and compromise. Choosing slow paced life of tier two, tier three cities or villages implies that you are giving up on basic infrastructure and services like road network, health facilities, education facilities, decent market places, etc. On the other hand, if we choose life in a metro, we pay the price of personal time, family time, open green areas, clean air and that much needed pause.

Somewhere deep in our collective memory, there lingers a different rhythm which is much slower yet more alive.

Memories of a humble shared courtyard—one of the oldest and most powerful design elements across cultures. Be it Siheyuan of China, Moroccan Riads, Europe’s medieval courtyard houses, Pols of Ahemdabad, Chowks of Punjab & Rajasthan, common courtyard of Himalyan Villages like Senji, etc. They were spaces of conversation, drying grains, playing children, cooking together, and moments of quiet under a star-lit sky. For the houses around these courtyards, the architecture supported a slower pace not by accident, but by design. They used to be the breathing lungs for dense urban life.

With escalated pace of life, these courtyards got replaced with neighbourhood parks, central parks and gated community amenities. Unfortunately, not everyone got access to these. In urban context of India, these open areas are so rare that it became a symbol of luxury and elite living. Shoulder to shoulder packed neighbourhood lanes with bare minimum setbacks, no green belts or walkways became synonymous to city life for lower income and middle-income India.

In Italian cities like Florence Rome or Venice, city squares were designed as social theatres. Intention was to encourage a pause in the lives of passersby. A well calculated and designed combination of paved areas and shaded arcades these piazzas promoted the act of lingering. We have seen this elsewhere also. The Tiber riverfront of Rome is still celebrated not just as infrastructure, but as a pause-space—a place to sit under a tree, cycle gently along the bank, or sip espresso while watching the day unfold.

For the intense urban concrete jungle like New York, the creation of Central Park in the 19th century was a bold urban intervention. Not for productivity, but for the pause. Frederick Law Olmsted’s vision was simple but radical: a place where factory workers and financiers alike could walk, breathe, and lose themselves in greenery. His vision was to create a democratic refuge—open to all, regardless of class.

Both the ideas- Piazzas of Europe or Central Park of America were designed to hold presence over passage. Piazzas initiated conversations during slow moving days and Central Park created a safe space for contemplation even amidst relentless rush.

There are many examples which not merely a part of history but still hold relevance in modern day life.  One thing common in all: all are either concentrated in developed part of the globe or areas of developing world which are self-sustainable- be it a neighbourhood, a village, a town or a city. The paradox here is: the mindful built-environment is in developed areas or the areas are developed because of mindful built-up environment. 

Zoom in a little and see the possibility of creating such pauses within our personal boundaries.  

A Parisian balcony was never an afterthought. They were critically designed to not only let the sunlight in but also to create a connection with the street below. Bright, open, and airy interiors of Scandinavian minimalism is not an acquired taste but need based functional and affordable design philosophy to deal with long gloomy winters and post-World War II traumas. Bay windows in English homes were mostly south-facing to offer a perfect reading nook or spot for morning tea during harsh snowy winters. Italian giardini pensile (terrace gardens) became a statement during Renaissance and Baroque period and still hold relevance for providing those little pauses and instilling a poetic extension of indoor spaces into the open air. Engawas (an extended strip of wooden deck between the house and the garden with deep eaves) of Japan faced extinction during westernisation of the country but regained the attention in contemporary architecture considering it’s undeniable spatial qualities like how it strategically draws the attention to the garden to create a connection with the nature. Unassumingly serving as a vista for reflection, connection and conversations. A transitional space to pause.

Indian Aangans and Verandaas, Moraccan Riads, Japanese Tsuboniwa, American Cabin Porches, Greek Stoas, Dutch Canal House Stoops, Goan Balcões- the list is endless with similar intention- to act as an architectural punctuation, a comma (,) in the language of design- to create that intentional pause in the everyday hustle.

Revolution happened (as minute as its scale might be) when places of work acknowledged the importance of these little pauses. For instance, Apple Park in Cupertino-a massive, circular workspace designed around a lush green courtyard. It is not just an office building- it’s a forest loop where people walk during meetings, enjoy open-air collaborations, and celebrate the balance between productivity and pause.

Amsterdam is a great example to show how something as utilitarian as a transport network can slow us down. Cycling infrastructure isn’t just a sustainable mobility solution there. While cycling slowly we notice the trees, cherish the breeze, hear our own thoughts and enjoy the pause even while moving.

The same philosophy can be replicated in our homes with limited carpet area. Introduction of small design punctuations like a skylight that brings in moving shadows across the day, a sliding wall that opens a living room to a garden/ balcony, a multipurpose deck that becomes a yoga spot at sunrise and a dinner setting at dusk.

Allocating space for such experiences should never be seen as a waste; rather, these moments of spatial generosity should be intentionally created, sought after, and celebrated as necessity not luxury.

Quality of Life (QOL) indexes apart from the obvious parameters one can think of also measures mental health, availability of green spaces & biodiversity, sense of belonging, social connections and support networks, civic participation, work-life balance, access to recreation and leisure etc. across the world now. That is why in countries like Sweden, Denmark, Switzerland, Netherland, Australia, New Zealand where design of built environment is governed by human well-being, consistently score higher in parameters of happiness and health. Built environment is critical in not only how it will function but also how it will make us feel every day.

Designing the pauses is designing the part of life that truly matters. In a world with exponentially accelerating speed, we are only hustling to achieve the pause.

Afterall, someone is going to walk that pathway, cross that bridge, take that train, pass by that park -every day before and after a long day of sincere work. With mindful design we can make this journey agreeable. When the person finally reaches home to the calmness, comfort and the pause created by responsive architecture and conscious living we can be sure that all the hustle was worth the while.

The hustle is real but so is the possibility of creating something better. Architecture and design are among the greatest gifts humanity has given itself, yet too often, we fall short of using them to their full potential. With greater intention, these tools can transform our environments into spaces that not only serve us, but elevate the way we live, work, and connect.

Take the first step- use that trash can, keep your neighbourhood clean, plant those trees, consume consciously, make some room in your room, transform that cluttered corner/ unused part of your home into something where you can sit, contemplate and connect. Make the hustle meaningful- take that pause.