Should our choices be 'justified' or 'just because'?

Making space for curiosity in a world obsessed with reason

Hello from a pretty village in Kerala.

I’m here to learn Kalaripayattu, a fascinating ancient martial arts form.

I reached here on Monday and have been getting acquainted with other students here.

PhD in Yoga.

Yoga instructor.

Fitness trainer.

Jujitsu practitioner and black belt in Karate.

These are the kind of people around me. Most of them are very invested in fitness and are here to expand their knowledge by exploring this form. It makes sense why they are here in a remote village, taking up intense training twice a day (5.30 am and 5.30 pm) with a little comfort that the Gurukulam offers.

But how do I answer, “So, why are you here?”

I like to keep moving in some way or other so I don’t get too rusty. But I’m not very into fitness. I love my food way too much and have never enjoyed any exercise forms long enough to get a decent knowledge of it.

Neither am I hoping Kalaripayattu to be the one thing that breaks this cycle. I’m here for a month. As much as I love it so far, I’m not sure if I love it enough to extend my time here and learn more.

So, why am I here?

Just because.

I’m here just because I’m curious.

I’m here just because I want to be.

I’m here just because I can.

A few years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to say this. ‘Just because’ wasn’t good enough. Rather it needed to be justified.

Everything I did had to contribute in some way to my bigger goal in life, or I needed to try to become an expert in it.

How else do I justify the time, money and effort that I’m spending on it otherwise? How is it even okay for me to do something inconsequential to my dreams when I could be doing things that contribute to be goals? How is it that I can do things trivial for the sake of my curiosity when everyone seems so focused on growth and ‘moving forward’ in life?

But here’s what I’ve come to realize over time: not everything needs to be part of a grand plan or a step on the ladder of ambition.

Most of us internalize this idea that life should be a straight line from one achievement to the next or one milestone to the next. We’re told, often subtly and sometimes outright, that purpose means productivity, that time spent should be time invested in “making something of ourselves.” And in this process, curiosity and joy — those untamed, spontaneous sparks — become luxuries or even signs of immaturity.

Maybe this happens because the world we live in prizes measurable outcomes.

From a young age, we’re praised for doing things “right,” for achieving visible results. But curiosity, by nature, is messy, nonlinear, and not always quantifiable. There’s no guarantee it’ll lead to something “useful.” And in a world that values predictability, that kind of open-ended exploration can feel almost rebellious.

And so, as we grow older, we let go of that innate, instinctive pull to explore for exploration’s sake. We trade wonder for stability, curiosity for clarity, as if the path we walk must always be clear and defined. Anything else might feel frivolous or naive.

But I feel like curiosity and joy are not just the trappings of childhood, they’re fundamental to a life fully lived.

Why do we see them as detours from a “serious” life when they’re the parts that make us feel alive? When they keep us growing in ways that a linear path simply can’t offer?

When we allow ourselves to follow curiosity and embrace joy without the pressure of an end goal, we find pieces of ourselves that would have stayed hidden otherwise.

So here I am, in this serene corner of Kerala, amidst people with impressive fitness resumes, learning something new not to become the best at it, not to add another achievement to my name, but to embrace the feeling of curiosity and wonder. I’m here to remind myself that life’s richness comes from these moments of stepping into the unknown, letting passion and whim guide the way, even if they don’t have a destination in mind.

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Little Joys

“Joy is always around if only we pause to acknowledge it.”

With life's burdens and big ambitions, it's easy to overlook our everyday joys. These are my small joys from the last two weeks -

• I’m closer to nature after a long time.

  

• I started writing again after 2 - 3 weeks of not having time for it.

• I had a comfortable train journey with a good night's sleep and a morning of reading a book.

• Met new people and had good conversations.

• Started journaling in a new pretty notebook.

• I’m hearing a symphony of birds chirping as I’m writing this.

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P.S. If you enjoyed this, here are a few pieces I think you’ll love:

👉 Throw the label, keep the action - Make consistency a lot easier...

👉 Sometimes the best practice is to ignore the best practices - Because they might not be the best for you.