Maybe Play Is Also a Serious Thing

When Ritesh appeared on the screen, the first thing was not really the subject of the meeting. It was darkness.

The Mayor joked with him, asking if his wife was planning some romantic evening with candles, but Ritesh explained it was not romance. It was a power cut. He was in his native place, not in Bengaluru, and just before the call there had been a storm, heavy rain, and the electricity went away. His laptop battery had only 26%. He was using mobile data. He said maybe in the middle of the conversation his battery would finish.

I thought this was already a kind of breaking routine, but not exactly the playful kind we were supposed to discuss. Sometimes life interrupts us before we decide to interrupt it. In Brazil we know this also. A plan is made, and then comes rain, electricity, traffic, sickness, a person who does not appear, or some strange thing that nobody predicted. Brazil is not for amateurs, as people say. Maybe India also is not.

Before Ritesh arrived, I had been saying something that is not very playful. I said I don’t understand why people engage in something and then don’t do the minimum. For example, if I enroll in Brida Community and I don’t appear, how can I improve even 1% in one year? I think at least we have to turn up. I was speaking also about Toastmasters. There is a fee, not very high, but even when people pay, they don’t always engage. I don’t understand this very well. People are strange. Things are strange.

This is maybe my problem also. I expect people to do what they say. I expect some minimum responsibility. But in general, even at university, I saw people were not engaged. When a professor cancelled a class, many students became glad. They were happy not to have class. I never understood this very well. If you are there to learn, why are you happy not to learn? Of course, I understand tiredness. I am not so naïve. But still, there is something in human behavior that I find difficult.

Then we spoke about holidays. The Mayor explained that Friday, May 1st, was a holiday in Brazil, and that in England there was a bank holiday on that Monday. He explained the origin of bank holidays, that before computers and automation the banks closed to balance the books. Now the banks are modern, but the holiday remained. I said maybe it is a great day for consumerism. He agreed. Shops are open. People are not working, but they are shopping. Maybe banks still make profits in another way. Business is business.

But because Ritesh had only 26% battery, The Mayor moved us quickly into the new theme of the month: play, and more specifically breaking routine through play.

He started by asking about a normal weekday. My answer was simple, but not simple also. Every day is different, but if I stay with my mother, I have to help her. I help in the kitchen, I go shopping if necessary, I manage some things. After lunch, if I don’t have to go out, I study French, I study English, I read on the internet. Some nights I have Toastmasters or an English meeting with Marileni. At night, I prepare snacks for my mother. She prepares lunch, and I prepare the afternoon and night snacks. We don’t have dinner in the way other people do.

The Mayor asked about breakfast. I said I like breakfast. In general, I eat fruit salad, sometimes bread with cheese. Not every day the same, but almost.

Ritesh described his Bangalore routine. He and his wife try to wake up early and go for a walk before breakfast. Then there is hurry. He prepares for office, his wife cooks breakfast, he goes to work. His office gives lunch, so he does not have to buy it. During the day his wife calls him many times because she is alone at home. When he leaves office, he calls her. By the time he reaches home, dinner is often ready. Then they eat early, go to the park, walk, come back, sometimes watch something, read something, talk for half an hour or one hour, and sleep.

The Mayor joked that after twenty years of marriage, this part of the contract had not happened in his house, the part where dinner is ready when he comes home. Ritesh explained very carefully, because he is this kind of person. He said he never demanded it. His wife likes cooking. She watches something on YouTube and can make it. Also, if she cooks before he comes home, then when he arrives they have time together. They can walk and talk. It is not only food. It is a way to create time.

I liked this explanation. It was practical, but also affectionate. He was not saying, “My wife must cook.” He was saying, “This is how we make space.” There is a difference.

Then The Mayor asked about autopilot. He gave his own example: he goes downstairs, empties the dishwasher, makes coffee, checks messages and news. His body does it before his brain is really awake.

I said something that maybe was a bit heavy for the question. I said that when I am at my home, I am the pilot of my life. But when I am at my mother’s home, I am not. I eat when she wants. I go out when she needs. I live for her when I am there. Then she is the pilot.

The Mayor understood this because he also has an elderly mother. He said he had done something for her that morning and was shocked because she could not remember why they were doing it, even though it was important. He said that we are both in our mid-sixties, our mothers are still alive, but somehow we are still their sons and still obey them. Even if he has children and grandchildren, he said maybe you are never really an adult until your parents have passed away.

I think this is true. I am 65, almost, and if I travel to Bonito or Piva, I have to call my mother or send a message. She has to know I am alive. I joked, or maybe I was serious, that our mother is like a second wife, or an alternate wife. The Mayor agreed.

With Ritesh, the question changed because he was now in his native place, living in his parents’ house for the moment. The Mayor asked if his routine slips back into childhood. This became very interesting, because Ritesh explained the negotiation between his mother and his wife. His wife was helping his mother cook. His mother forced his wife to give him sweets, even though his wife knew he was avoiding sweets. His mother said he is 30, he should not worry. Ritesh had to eat. He also told how, when he was sick, his wife, who is a nurse, told him what medicine to take, but he still called his mother. His mother told him the same thing. So there was a conflict, but also not exactly a conflict. We go back to mothers because they know us from childhood.

He told his wife: while we are here, do what my mother says, make her happy, because then after you leave she will remember you well. This was very Indian, I think, but also universal. Family relations have politics. Not party politics, but emotional politics. You have to manage memory, respect, authority, food, illness, and who has the right to say no.

Then Ritesh disappeared. His battery finished. The Mayor sent him a message: if he got power, let us know, enjoy your dinner. And then it was only The Mayor and me.

We went back to childhood on the farm. The Mayor asked if the farm felt like discipline, adventure, boredom, or play. I said it was a mix, but most of the time I was afraid of snakes. I don’t know why, but snakes scared me very much. An employee was bitten by a snake. An uncle also was bitten, and after that his health was never the same. Even today, when I go on a trail, I am afraid of snakes.

But the farm also made me reflective. Even at that time, I thought about what existed after the point I could not see. What was beyond the horizon? I did not have a notion of countries, continents, oceans. The world seemed so big that maybe somewhere there was the same scenery, maybe another boy like my mirror. I don’t know why I thought that. Maybe because I was alone so much.

When I left the farm and went to the city to study, I was not exactly surprised by the world. I found it interesting. There were many things I did not have on the farm. There were colleagues to play soccer with. I thought, here is more interesting than the farm.

The Mayor asked what games I played that children today might find strange. I remembered “Stop,” where someone chooses a letter and you write a name, a country or city, a fruit, an object. The Mayor knew this game from Germany, but not from Australia. This amused me. How did the same game travel? We also played a ball game we called something like “burning,” where you throw the ball to hit someone, and if the person does not catch it, he is out. There was also a variation of baseball, or maybe cricket, with sticks and a bat and a hole. I described it badly, maybe, but it existed.

Then we spoke about when play becomes unacceptable. My parents never told me to stop playing and study because I was responsible. But I heard other parents say this to other children. Later, when we become students and workers, we begin to think playing is a waste of time. My father also said people who played cards were lazy, maybe dishonest, because cards were connected with money and cheating. So I never learned to play cards.

The Mayor said he also did not have much board game culture. His father did not enjoy Monopoly or cards. His mother sometimes insisted, but his father only agreed as a duty. The Mayor also said he refuses to play Scrabble with his wife because she plays to win. She is very competitive. He only wants to enjoy the game and see what words come. But she calculates, maximizes, tries to use all seven letters for extra points. I said the main point should be to socialize, to live socially. Not only to win.

This, I think, is important. Playing is not childish if it helps the mind relax and people connect. A game can be like walking. If you walk with someone, you talk. If you walk alone, you reflect. Both are useful. But if someone plays video games or cards all day long, then maybe it is waste. Everything depends on measure.

We also spoke about Pilates. I began Pilates because my mother’s geriatrician told her to do physical activity. She did not like working out, so she chose Pilates. Since I had to take her, I also started. Now I like it. I have done it for four years. There is a “challenge day” where people do a difficult position and the teacher takes a photo. My mother, at 88, does not do these positions, of course. But I like it. It gives flexibility, and at our age flexibility is important.

The Mayor reminded me of Deborah from my Pilates class. I had connected Deborah with him because she was going to South Korea. Then through him she met Natalie in Seoul, who was connected with Brida and with people in France. Deborah had lived in Strasbourg and spoke French. Natalie later would move to Accra in Ghana. The Mayor told how his wife once heard this chain and did not understand it: Ismar’s Pilates class in Campo Grande, Deborah in South Korea, Natalie in Seoul, Brida, France, Ghana. Everybody else laughed because they understood the strange global connection.

I said it was like synapses in the nervous system. One cell connects to another. Maybe play, language, Pilates, English, community — all these things create synapses between people.

Near the end, The Mayor asked if playing games or doing silly things can relieve stress or boredom. I said yes, I think we behave differently when playing and when working. Every game has some competitiveness, but we should appreciate more the people around us and the conversation than winning.

Then he asked what would make my life more playful. This was difficult. I did not answer with a game. I spoke about trust. I said I am a pessimist because I am the result of all the things I have lived until now. Most people who approach me have another intention. Maybe this is normal. A woman says she loves a man, but maybe she wants loneliness eliminated. A cousin agrees to walk and then does not appear, does not answer the phone, does not send even a message of excuse. A former girlfriend comes to Campo Grande after many years, but when I say I do not want to live together, she changes completely.

Maybe I am too direct. Maybe people think the same about me, that I am not good conversation. But I would like to be more sociable. I would like more meetings with people, more pleasant conversations. It is rare to find a person with whom conversation is good.

The Mayor said he thinks I am more sociable than I believe. I don’t know. Maybe he is right. Maybe play is not only games, or jokes, or doing something silly. Maybe play is also the small possibility that, for one hour, people speak without needing to use each other. They just meet. They talk. They remember childhood games, snakes, mothers, sweets, Scrabble, Pilates, bank holidays, power cuts, and someone called Deborah who travels through the world like a synapse.

Maybe this is play also. Not escaping routine completely. Just making one small opening inside it.