By Nine O’Clock
On sleep, presence, and the quiet discipline of going to bed early
The Late Night
It was 9 pm. I was sitting on the foldable floor mattress in our hall with my phone in my hand, scrolling through Instagram.
JioHotstar was on the TV screen. It was time for that day’s Bigg Boss Hindi live episode to air.
I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram and simultaneously trying to keep up with the argument going on between Kanika Manan and Young DSA during the first captaincy task of the season.
Predictably, I could not enjoy either activity.
It was now 10:15 pm, and I knew I should go to sleep.
But I decided against my better judgement to watch the recent Khatron Ke Khiladi episodes released during the last few weeks.
I saw Farhana kick ass in the car-driving stunt and was utterly impressed.
The phone was still in my hand.
It was 2:15 am when I finally went to sleep.
I fell asleep as soon as I got into bed.
I woke up at 8 am the next day, worn out and groggy.
I groaned, calculating that I had not got my eight hours of sleep.
I switched on the geyser and rushed into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I was irritated with myself that I could not wash my hair that day. It had already been four days.
I did not have time to make my bed.
I was so low on energy that I did not even do the five-minute meditation routine I did every morning.
I played the song Prema Velluva on my Bluetooth speaker.
Only music could save the rest of my morning now.
I rushed through the motions of getting ready and having breakfast and finally left for work.
How It Used to Be
Before my sister left for the UK, we would stay up late watching some series we discovered or a movie that had recently been released on OTT.
We placed the laptop between us on the bed and snuggled under the bedsheet until we could no longer control our sleep.
After she left, I cried myself to sleep for the first few days because I missed her so much.
But slowly I began to realise that I could now design my routine independent of anybody else.
I even had the whole room to myself.
It was during this time that I fell back into my natural routine of going to sleep by 9 pm.
In the beginning, I slept early because I honestly had nothing to do after that time, but slowly my sleep time started becoming sacred to me, and I deliberately started to protect it.
What Early Sleep Actually Does
My dance mentor was teaching us the song Dholi Taro in view of the upcoming Navratri season.
I was extremely tired after my dance class, so I slept at my usual time yesterday.
I wake up and love the feeling in my body of being fully rested.
I stand beside my bed and, for a few seconds, just admire the silence and peace of the morning before everyone else has woken up.
I make my bed without rushing.
I open the Balance app and sit properly on my bed.
Not perched, not half-ready to get up.
Actually sitting.
The commentary begins, and I follow each word rather than letting my mind run ahead of it.
There is a particular moment in the session where everything goes quiet inside, and I notice my breathing.
On tired mornings, I sit through the same meditation, waiting for it to end, checking the timer, relieved when it is over.
On a rested morning it ends, and I am almost sorry.
I notice the morning light coming through my hall window in a specific way.
I stand beside the window for a moment and just look at the light.
The angle.
The way it catches the dust in the air.
A tired version of me would not have stopped here.
She would already be in the bathroom, calculating how many minutes she had left.
This version stands at the window and lets the morning be slow.
Out of Sync
I sit down to read in the evening and open my book. Reading is the first thing that leaves me when sleep does.
I read the same paragraph three times.
The words are there, but nothing is sticking.
I put the book down after twenty minutes, having absorbed nothing.
On a rested day, I would have finished thirty pages by now.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur I cannot account for.
The Nine O’Clock Decision
Sleep is not exciting to write about, but it is radical to protect in a world that treats staying up late as productivity or passion.
My nine o’clock bedtime is a choice I make every day for the version of myself I want to be the next morning.
It is 8:45 pm.
I switch off the television and go into my room.
I arrange my pillow the way I like it.
I switch on my warm night light and switch off the main light.
The room settles into its familiar orange glow.
I put my phone in the metal basket attached to my bed.
I close my eyes.
Tomorrow is already taken care of.
If this resonated, you might enjoy Letters From a Slow Writer, my occasional newsletter on autonomy, solitude and living deliberately.
Aishwarya is a government doctor in Hyderabad and a personal essayist. She writes about solitude, books, and the quiet work of building a life on her own terms.