From saving to spending: getting hooked on the new LSD

From 1966 to 1969 I used to take the bus to school. It looked a bit like this, except it was in grey and it still worked. Just about. It would take us an hour to cover three miles or so.


The rest of the time, I walked to school. Before I turned 12, we’d moved to within fifteen minutes walk of the school, so that isn’t saying much.

But walk we did, and walking was considered normal. It helped that we lived in what I considered the centre of town, even though technically it was “south Calcutta”. I felt I could walk anywhere I wanted within an hour and a half, and most places in less than an hour. If it was too hot (which it sometimes was) or if it was too wet (which happened like clockwork during the monsoon), there were other options available, trams and buses aplenty. Most of the time, Shank’s Pony was the easy option, so I walked. So much so that I never learnt to drive. I still don’t know how to drive. And, not surprisingly, my favourite cities are walking cities, albeit occasionally augmented by public transport.

In those days, electricity used to be a luxury in Calcutta. Regular power cuts were common and referred to as load-shedding.

It wasn’t much fun. The PC hadn’t been invented; the TV hadn’t made it over to India as yet; the battery cell was just about noticeable in devices like torches. Portable “transistor” radios weren’t around either. So the principal impact of loadshedding was that the room lights and ceiling fans went out. Air conditioners were for the very rich or the criminal, althogh occasionally you couldn’t distinguish between those two classes of human.

Labour saving devices had yet to make their mark on Indian society. The urban middle-class had refrigerators, but they were really glorified larders given how often we had power cuts. Anything cold was a luxury. [I used to go to the local Ice Rink and just sit in the shadows for a while just to cool off; I didn’t know how to skate, and couldn’t afford it anyway]. Ice was usually transported in large chunks on hand-carts called thelas, and kept cool by prudent and careful use of coverings made of hessian, with sawdust additionally on the exposed bits.


There were no washing machines or dishwashers to be seen anywhere.  Some modicum of laundry service was available, though for the most part people would wash their clothes at home and perhaps hire the services of itinerant ironers.


No fridges and no freezers, so no frozen food. No supermarkets, no pre-washed or cleaned or chopped or mashed anything. Everything was done by hand, fresh, on the day. By 7am you would hear the rumble of gigantic stone mortar/pestle devices as the herbs and spices of the day were prepared; the vegetable cleaning and chopping would go on in parallel. We didn’t have to worry about meat going off in the heat: we were vegetarians.



For the first 23 years of my life, I was blissfully ignorant of at least one type of LSD. Labour Saving Devices.

And then I moved to the UK. To western civilisation. And wave after wave of opportunity to save my labour.

We live in interesting times. [Incidentally, whenever I use the phrase Western Civilisation I am reminded of Mahatma Gandhi. Apparently he was asked what he thought of Western Civilisation. And he replied “I think it would be a good idea”].

Pretty much since the day I was born, we’ve all been growing fatter. As we moved from agriculture through manual labour in factories to more sedentary occupations, this was to be expected. We delayed some of the effects by using nicotine and caffeine in prodigious amounts, until they were both sent to the Naughty corner. More recently, sitting has become the new smoking and taken its place in Naughty Corner as well. And now, it looks like the fat-is-bad-sugar-is-good train of thought has crashed, with sugar banished to be with sitting and smoking.

But we’re still getting heavier. You just have to look around. And compare the society of today with society fifty, seventy, a hundred years ago. No rocket science.

Like most other people I know, I need to get fitter and more flexible and lose a chunk of weight. Occasional dieting has helped but the weight rarely stays off. And fitness and flexibility continue to be important. And I’m growing older.

So I’ve decided to get hooked on a new form of LSD.

Labour spending devices. Tools that make me work, rather than save me from work.

Having spent a decade and a half with the Jesuits, I recognise a corpore sano is not enough; I need a mens sana as well.

Which is why I am keen on making sure that what I do for my body I do for my mind as well. In both cases, I need to be sure that I am using tools wisely, to do things that keep my body and mind fit. Which is why I loved A Second Machine Age; which is why I loved Crap Detection; and which is why I’m installing a carpentry workbench in my den and learning more about gardening.

The new LSD. Spending labour. Wisely.

11 thoughts on “From saving to spending: getting hooked on the new LSD”

  1. Love this. Nostalgia and manifesto rolled in one.

    Living in Ballygunge, all my friends, school and play places were within a 30min walking distance. So much so that one never learned to ride a cycle. Though driving did arrive in my life at Delhi.

    For us a washing machine was a Labourer Saving Device, given how often our non-trusty maid vanished each week.

    Back to proletarian living in Singapore. No TV (the internet takes care of entertainment), no car (too expensive), no cook (too much travel). Enjoying the simple repast and walking as much as possible.

  2. @sushobhan as you probably remember I used to live in Ballygunge as well, at 70C Hindustan Park. I think it was Calcutta 29 in those days

  3. Luckily, I’ve kept walking, and regularly swimming (for 40+ years) and have acquired relatively few labour-saving devices over the years (though I’ll admit the first washer-dryer combo actually in the apartment 11 years ago, instead of in the basement of an apt. building, is damned great.

    But I’m still thicker than I want to be or should be .. and I look forward to discovering more labour-spending devices.

    Thanks for the story, JP.

  4. JP, Do you still walk like you did?

    I’ve been a huge subscriber to walking all my life – when I was younger, it was cheaper, but now I walk wherever I can because it allows me to see, smell and hear a place. I pretty much walk everywhere in San Francisco these days, it’s a perfect city be on foot rather than in a car.

    The big payoff is on business trips – it’s so easy to miss the city I’m in – shuttled from airport to hotel to office to restaurant and back again, each city just blends into a haze of international brands and expense reports. So walking allows me to explore the side streets, see the places where people live and shop and just go about their daily business. I find odd local places to eat, hear street arguments, see kids playing and see if people pick up their dog poop. In a day filled with meetings and presentations, it’s a nice break for the mind.

    I get stared at a lot, because it’s easy to look out of place, but there’s little that can’t be solved with a smile. It’s not really all that risky, so try this at home and abroad, but be a little street smart, don’t get completely lost, keep your eyes open and stay on your toes.

  5. It is just sad that newer Indian cities like Bangalore are just not walkable. Sidewalk is a mere strip wide enough to cover the storm drain
    People sometimes approach labour spending devices quite irrationally though. I’ve seen NYC folks taking elevators to the gym and immediately getting on the stairmaster!
    PS: JP- Hindustan Park continues to be Cal (rather, Kol) 29

  6. @subrata All my favourite cities are walking cities. By the way if you get the chance visit Bologna. Miles and miles of porticos.

  7. Wallowing. I too lived a fifteen minute leisurely walk to school. I used to run to Saturday club if I was late to hang out and run to the Rackets club if late for a game. In later years a slightly longer walk to college which used to invariably divert to the Chai shop at russel street. Trip to the movies by the trusted mini bus and that lasted till I started working. Referigarators existed as did a gas geyser or two. No telly. My neighbour acquired a stereo system, I think it was Cosmic or sonodyne and I blew my mind listening to Doors LA Woman again and again.

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