We’ve all been there: sitting in a classroom with a blank sheet of paper, tasked with the classic essay prompt, “What is your hobby?” In those days, the answers felt almost algorithmic. Most of my classmates would dutifully write about philately (stamp collecting) or numismatics (coin collecting). These were the “respectable” hobbies—activities that sounded structured, educational, and ready for an interview panel. But for many of us, the reality of our leisure time was much more fluid.

The Midnight Pep Talk: Defining “Leisure”

I remember a pivotal night in Class 9. My House Captain, fresh from a motivational trip to the National Defence Academy (NDA), gathered us outside his dorm for a marathon pep talk that stretched until midnight. As we fought off sleep, he challenged our rigid ideas of what a hobby actually was.

He told us about a junior who nurtured a talent for drawing cartoons post-school hours, and even a senior who told an SSB (Services Selection Board) panel that his hobby was experimenting with different hairstyles. His message was simple: A hobby is simply what you actually do with your time when no one is telling you what to do.

In a school schedule packed with classes and mandatory games, those quiet hours between lunch and tea were our only true “white space.” While others played “exam pad cricket” or watched TV, I found myself drawn to something else.

The Art of the Scrapbook

My home didn’t have a TV, and I never developed much of an interest in watching one at school either. Instead, I became a curator. I found myself armed with a pair of scissors and a stack of magazines. I would cut out anything that resonated: a clever joke, a poignant poem, a striking photograph, or—most frequently—motivational quotes.

Initially, these clippings migrated to my dorm walls and the inside of my cupboard. They were my “hooks,” the small anchors I used to steady myself while navigating the pressures of school. Eventually, I began pasting them into an old, unused diary. It was only later that I learned there was a formal name for this: Scrapbooking.

As my interests evolved toward quizzing and management, my scrapbooks transformed too. The clippings became more specialized, reflecting my growing curiosity about the world and my future career.

From Paper Clippings to “Tsundoku”

That habit of physical curation eventually manifested in a new form: a love for books. Over the years, I began accumulating motivational and self-help titles. My collection grew faster than my reading pace, leading to a bookshelf filled with both well-loved pages and “yet-to-be-reads.”

I recently discovered a beautiful Japanese term that perfectly describes this stage of my journey: Tsundoku (積ん読). It refers to the act of acquiring reading materials and letting them pile up without necessarily reading them all. For me, it isn’t just about the “unread” pile; it’s an extension of that original scrapbooking impulse—the desire to gather and surround myself with ideas that inspire growth.

The Digital Pivot

Today, my “scissors and glue” have been replaced by the digital “Pin.” My collection of articles and interests has migrated to Pinterest boards, allowing me to curate ideas with a speed my ninth-grade self couldn’t have imagined.

Looking back, those “part-time hobbies” were never just filler. Whether it’s a physical scrapbook, a shelf of books, or a digital board, the act of collecting is really an act of self-discovery. It’s about identifying what speaks to you and keeping it close.

So, if you’re still trying to define your hobby, don’t worry about whether it sounds “official” enough for an essay. Look at what you do when the world leaves you to your own devices. That—whatever it is—is where your story begins.

What was your “exam pad cricket”? Did you have a hobby that didn’t quite fit the standard essay template? Let me know in the comments!

*This blog post has been refined using Gemini.