Vision 2025. Live - Work - Play

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 6th October 2025, Monday.

7am.

Asmi woke up to the shrill din of her keywound mechanical alarm clock. Pressing her palms firmly on the bobbing caps of the clock, she slowly stretched herself, curling out of the bed. She was happy that her reflex of immediately reaching for her mobile phone was finally broken. The signal barring bedpost was a great investment in a good night’s sleep; and a reflective morning that allowed for contemplating the day ahead, rather than furtively clutching at a devise even before the eyes had fully opened.

Today was Monday, she quickly made a mental note of her to-do list. She had a morning classroom session with her cohort form Tongji University, Sanghai; and an evening work session with the bio-mimicry designer who she was interning with at MIT Media labs. Oh! Today she was also in charge of lunch. A group of neighbors had decided to divide and conquer the predicament of daily cooking, and avoiding the dependence on take-away meals or tiffin services. They rotated turns for cooking for the group, and that way, managed to not only grow new intimacies of sharing ancestral recipes but also the excitement of having new flavors daily.

She decided to whip up a classic Kothimbir rice recipe - a simple one pot dish that would taste good with raita.

 

8am

The rice had been soaked, and a nice pot of coffee was brewing. She tuned into her university radio station, hoping to catch her best friend strum an unplugged cover of one of their favorite songs. On air was the President of the student body, interviewing a faculty member who had recently returned from Nepal. The express decision of the editor of the college newsletter, to switch from email subscription to a dedicated radio broadcasting allowed for more content and more conversation, but frankly, the move was to allow some rest to the eyes of people who would otherwise be constantly staring at screens for work, for news, for connection. This seemed like a good respite for the eyes and a chance to let the aural senses dominate for a while. Asmi listened to the conversation as she chopped and prepared for the communal lunch, sipping her first coffee of the day. Her mother stepped into the kitchen to help her, but Asmi shooed her away… post the covid infection, her mother’s lungs were not in good condition and standing in the kitchen for long would just strain her beyond measure.

It was a good thing that University classes had moved online, that way, she could stay at home, caring for her parents, and also save up on the living costs of the big city.

 

9am

The lunch dabbas were packed and put out onto the shelf of the elevator shaft that the flat owners had installed, vertically connecting all kitchen balconies. She picked up her coffee mug and walked back to her room. Stopping in the living room, she chided her father for turning on the TV news early in the morning, that spewed sheer vitriol with zero news coverage.

Time to enter her sanctuary - her real-virtual learning space. Right by the side of the bathroom door, was a small cubicle like space - a separate zone partitioned out of her bedroom itself. The university fees for infrastructure had been diverted to supply high speed internet connections, a soundproof partitioning system, webcam, bluetooth earphones with microphone, a sit to stand table, an ergonomic chair, some cushions, a tackboard space, a whiteboard surface and a glare free wide screen to all the students.

She entered into her home-studio and clicked on the Cafe link of her dashboard. Soon, a couple of windows popped up, happy faces - some familiar, some new, all beaming over steaming cups of their favorite beverage. As soon as she entered, there seemed to be a cacophony of conversations.. people talking to each other simultaneously; but soon, she settled in with the white noise. The fact that the camera was positioned 3’ away from her helped her feel at ease, as her bubble of personal space was intact.

The University was hosting these special meeting spaces - Cafe, Smoke room, Game rooms, Jamming rooms, Reading rooms, and even Break rooms- transition rooms (spaces you could be in while you waited for your classes, or wanted to take a break from what was going on).

She locked eyes with a new person who seemed to be cleaning his camera lens. She was intrigued and struck up a conversation with him, only to leave the cafe space with multiple links to basics of manual photography that her new acquaintance had quickly pulled up and shared with her.

 

10am

The boisterous bunch from Tongji and her own batchmates from her University greeted each other with the usual leg pulling and light banter. The fact that the cohort was limited to 10 people really helped with the group dynamics and getting to know each other at a more personal level. Each person seemed to have a similar sized cubicle as hers and they all seemed unselfconscious. The organizational level policy to restrict self view in online meetings went a long way in putting people at ease, as they were not constantly distracted by their own image. The cameras being positioned away from the screens also allowed for good comfort, as well as mobility and possibility of bodily enactions in a conversation. Asmi particularly loved her sit-to-stand work table - that could deploy, allowing her the flexibility of sitting cross legged bolstered by a cushion, or sitting straight backed on a chair, or even pulling the work table up to allow a standing position.

The easy caption translate ensured seamless communication across language barriers. Using one of the multiple modes of online collaborative working, Asmi hovered over her colleagues work, leaving notes of feedback, raising concerns or questions, and eventually working in tandem to build a solid argument for their project.

 

1pm

An intense morning academic session had filled Asmi with energy and many musings to process. It was a good thing that her afternoon was free. She picked up her lunch and walked down to the neighborhood park. Each home had a patch of vegetable garden in the park that they all collectively tended to. She scrutinized the new sprouts on her tomato plants and plucked out a few weeds. Next she walked till the centre of the park where a library drone was waiting to make a pick up and drop off of borrowed books. She quickly pulled out her hand held device, pressing the homing button to beckon the drone to make the book drop.

With the student usurping that had shaken all edifices, the political one being the primary one, new norms were instated. The new educated government had put out a policy that made library subscriptions subsidized and almost free. The institutions of library were themselves reinforced with funds to expand their repository and also harness technological advances for cataloging, issuing and delivering books.

With a book in one arm, and her lunch box in the other, she made it to an empty park bench. Thank God that scrolling through the phone, or extensive use of phone in public had become synonymous to public indecency. Everywhere she looked around, she saw people playing, and singing, and mostly reading and eating lunch. The gadgets remained hidden, out in the open. She looked up around her. The central neighborhood park was flanked by tall apartments. Jutting out of most apartments were covered decks and retractable cubicles - signs of the prevalent lifestyle -the work from home culture, that blurred the domestic and the professional zones.

 

3pm

She was late for her art therapy. She was the facilitator today. She logged into the university art space, to hear strains of music followed by some desk thumping and loud singing as her friends sporadically converted the art therapy into music therapy. The bunch had met online at a commons social and figured out their interest in exploring art as therapy. None of them were trained to be therapists, but thanks to the internet, they had access to multiple credible resources. They just took it upon themselves to take turns and teach each other. After having struggled with self image issues all through her teenage years, Asmi was very thankful for two things - (I) Mental health and well-being was given attention to, thereby making therapy normal and (ii) There had been a mass boycott of all social media platforms, so the peer pressure of seeking constant approval was suddenly lifted off her chest which solved majority of her identity crisis problems.

She could now create art for the sake of art, be herself, find safe spaces to share her work that offered respect, value and opportunities for growth.

The unmasking of the ploys of social media and the sudden collective epiphany that broadcasting your personal life or promoting your work on social media was equivalent to a vulgar display liberated many from the pressure of maintaining a conventionally approved majoritarian image. Since being active on social media was looked down upon, and any activity there was considered crass and in bad taste, Asmi had found much peace as she no longer self imposed the maintenance of an illusion that measured up to the falsely created standards of social media influencers. Such a ridiculous bubble social media had been, and she was so thrilled it was busted!.

 

4pm

Silent hour. Asmi and her parents glided into the central dining space, with spools of yarn and a few needles. Each one brought out their own mini loom and set to work - warp and weft. This was the designated silent hour where they spent time weaving, in quiet contemplation, in memory of all those who were lost to the pandemic of 2020. Today Asmi sat thinking about how thankful she was, for all the access she had, all the new relationships she had cultivated in the past 5 years. She was especially feeling relieved today, like a pull of one right thread and the pattern of the weave progressed beautifully; but it could easily have been dystopia, one wrong string pulled and everything could unravel.

 

5pm

She retired into her home-studio, preparing for the work session that would begin in an hour. This was her time to synthesize, to reconfigure her practice and make a roadmap for her learning journey. She spent the time exploring options for future study and work modules, as well as fellowships and internships. Nothing was impossible to her, no ambition unachievable. She liked that she was in control of her learning journey - that also made her more responsible and more proactive.

She picked up the landline and called up a friend, she wrote a handwritten letter to another one, she finished the book chapter that she had been reading at lunch, and then tuned in to the University radio while she waited for her colleagues in Boston to start their day.

 

6pm

The designer was in a grumpy mood. He was not happy with the output of his interns. He ranted a little and then logged out to let off steam.

Break room time. Asmi and her batchmates who were interning with the MIT designer swiftly logged into the break room that was a secure student’s only platform. They could be sure that once they entered the virtual space and locked it, no one else could come in, unless they were let in by the primary entrants. They entered the break space and looked at each other. Asmi started pacing in her cubicle, mumbling under her breath. Seemed like they needed a new approach. Thinking meekly and conventionally would not impress their boss at MIT. Let’s work in the break-room, Asmi suggested. Sure, it felt intimate and secure. Like there would be no wrong answer inside there. They could freely talk, draw, doodle, sing, utter gibberish and it would all be taken in in a non-judgemental way by the other 3. The power of small groups was the intimacy, the knowing of the quirks, of tiny personal details.. of not looking up from the tracing sheet but knowing whose voice it was, of having inside jokes and the comfort of finishing each others’ sentences. Sometimes, more work happens in an uninhibited comfortable space than under the scrutiny of many participants. After the very productive private session, Asmi gave a call to their boss requesting him to log back in so that they could bounce off a few ideas. It was a successful wrap to that session.

 

9pm

It was time to check the dinner chute. Their upstairs neighbour, a mother of two had managed to lay out an elaborate meal of Pad Thai noodles, some sauces and multiple garnishes. Along with the food tray, there was a little handwritten note wishing them Bon Apetite. With a broad smile on her face, Asmi clicked a picture of the delicious dinner, not for sharing anywhere but purely for her keepsake - as a memory, so that someday in the future, she can look at this picture and think back to the day she had had today.

 

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Appendix

Christopher Alexander in “The Timeless Way of Building” and “A Pattern Language”

Patterns are rooted in our own lived experiences and anchored as well as made of the space they occur in. Multiple patterns co-exist in any environment and their interrelationship defines and shapes the overall character of the environment. 

 

The question by co-relation that sprouted at this point was, “How can we define/map/enhance the quality of life in studio learning in an online mode?

Supporting question is: What are the conflicts in digital learning that need to be resolved using pattern language?