Baby Boomer relearns an ancient craft online, Gen-Alpha grandkid gets hooked

By Poonam Kirpal

There is a saying that life comes full circle. At 69, I can say with conviction that it truly does. Looking back, my professional life was rewarding. I taught in schools, counselled children and parents, and eventually had the privilege of leading a successful school as its principal. Those years were devoted to shaping young lives and building institutions.

Yet, like many women of my generation, my education extended far beyond the classroom. We learnt skills that were considered an integral part of growing up – cooking, embroidery, tatting and knitting. They were not hobbies as much as life skills, quietly handed down from mothers and grandmothers.

I too learnt them all but – with career, family and responsibilities taking precedence – those skills lay dormant for decades.

My mother was a gifted knitter. She created beautiful garments effortlessly, so there was never any reason for me to knit. But time changes all of us. As age gradually slowed her nimble fingers and I entered the delightful world of grandmotherhood, I found myself reaching for knitting needles once again.

What began as a simple desire to knit for my grandchildren soon blossomed into a deeply cherished passion.

Retirement gave me something I had long been missing – time. Like millions around the world, I found myself with endless entertainment available at the click of a button. Television and streaming platforms could easily fill entire evenings.

But I always remembered my grandmother’s words: “Hands should never remain idle.”

So, I began knitting while watching television. Instantly, the experience changed. The screen entertained me, while my hands created something meaningful. Instead of feeling that hours had simply disappeared, I ended each evening with a sweater taking shape, a pair of tiny socks completed or a blanket growing row by row. It was no longer passive consumption; it had become creative companionship.

What surprised me most was the effect knitting had on my mind. The rhythmic movement of the needles slowed my thoughts, eased everyday anxieties and brought an unexpected sense of calm. Long before “mindfulness” became a fashionable term, generations of women had unknowingly practised it through their crafts.

Then came another delightful surprise. I decided to learn crochet.

In another era, I would have searched for an experienced neighbor or joined a local class. Instead, my teacher lived somewhere in the digital world. YouTube became my classroom. Patient instructors from every corner of the globe taught me stitches, techniques and patterns. I learnt an entirely new vocabulary: single crochet, double crochet, treble crochet and beyond. Age proved no barrier to learning when curiosity remained alive.

It is fascinating that while technology is often criticized for disconnecting us from real life, it is also preserving centuries-old traditions and passing them on to new generations. A grandmother in India can learn a stitch from an expert in Canada, Australia or Norway, and a young child anywhere in the world can discover the same timeless craft with equal ease.

Perhaps that is the greatest lesson these later years have taught me. We are never too old to learn, to create or to begin again. The pace of the modern world may be faster than ever, but our hearts still long for the quiet satisfaction of making something with our own hands.

In the end, the blankets and cardigans are only part of the story. The real creation has been a gentler mind, a calmer spirit and the joyful discovery that some passions simply wait patiently for the right season of life to bloom. Sadly, our children’s generation seemed to let these beautiful skills slip away altogether.

This summer, however, I witnessed something rather special.

I taught my nine-year-old granddaughter to knit, and she took to it like a fish to water. Despite her busy days filled with school, swimming, dance and singing classes, she has found joy in this simple, unhurried craft. Every night before bed, she settles down with her needles and wool. It has become her quiet personal ritual.

As I watch her, I often wonder what occupies her mind. Is she replaying the events of the day? Is she gently releasing the excitement and restlessness that accompany childhood? Whatever the answer, there is something deeply comforting about seeing a child choose creation over endless screen time or idle distraction. Stitch by stitch, she unwinds while making something tangible with her own hands.

Like every beginner, she occasionally drops a stitch or needs help casting on, binding off or correcting a mistake. And here lies the delightful twist in the story. My daughter – her mother – is now learning these techniques from YouTube so she can help her daughter along the way!

The roles have reversed. Instead of knowledge flowing from mother to daughter, it is the child who is inspiring the mother to rediscover a nearly forgotten craft.

Perhaps traditions are never truly lost. They simply lie dormant until a young pair of eager hands picks up the needles once again, reminding us that some of life’s greatest pleasures are also its simplest.

Poonam Kirpal is a New Delhi-based education professional, freelance counsellor, and the author of three books. She blogs here.