Has Time Really Started Running Faster?

Nilim Kashyap Barthakur

Have you ever paused in the middle of a bustling day and wondered: Is time really running faster these days? The new year kicks off with fireworks and resolutions, and before you can even settle into your routine, January is already slipping away. It feels like just yesterday you were toasting to fresh beginnings, yet here we are, staring at the calendar in disbelief as the first month evaporates.

This isn’t a one-off quirk; it’s become an annual ritual. We glance back and think, “This year ended in a blink,” especially in the shadow of COVID-19.

What was once a fleeting complaint has morphed into a collective sigh, echoing across coffee breaks, social feeds, and quiet reflections. But why? Let’s unravel this temporal puzzle, exploring how the world shifted after 2020 and why our internal clocks seem perpetually out of sync.

To understand the acceleration, we must rewind to life before 2020. Back then, our days were a whirlwind of tangible busyness. Mornings meant rushing to offices or schools, afternoons buzzed with meetings, errands, and social interactions, and evenings were for unwinding with family or friends in the real world. Time felt structured, marked by physical milestones: the commute home, a handshake at a networking event, or the laughter shared over a meal at a local café. These routines weren’t just habits; they were anchors, grounding us in the present and making each day feel substantial.

Psychologists often describe this as “event-based time perception.” Our brains use memorable events as bookmarks in the timeline of our lives. In the pre-COVID era, these bookmarks were plentiful and varied, creating a sense of elongation. A single week might include a challenging work presentation, a weekend hike, and an impromptu gathering with neighbours. Each experience added texture, making time feel abundant. But then came the pandemic, and with it, a seismic shift that redefined our relationship with time.

The lockdowns of 2020 forced the world into an unprecedented standstill. Suddenly, homes became offices, schools, and entertainment hubs. For many, time stretched endlessly during those early months, blurred by isolation and uncertainty. Days merged into one another, with little to distinguish Monday from Saturday. Yet, as restrictions lifted and vaccines rolled out, something unexpected happened: time didn’t just resume; it accelerated.

One of the most profound changes was our deepened entanglement with the digital world. Social media, once a side dish, became the main course. Platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter (now X) exploded in usage, offering escape, connection, and endless distraction. In India, this shift was supercharged by the advent of affordable internet, particularly through networks like Jio. Launched in 2016 but gaining massive traction post-2020, Jio made high-speed data accessible to millions at rock-bottom prices. Rural villages in Assam, bustling cities like Mumbai, and everywhere in between suddenly had the world at their fingertips. What was once a luxury became ubiquitous, with data plans cheaper than a cup of chai.

This accessibility fueled a new habit: doomscrolling. We dive into reels, stories, and feeds, chasing the next hit of dopamine, that feel-good chemical our brains release with every like, share, or laugh. Hours dissolve as we swipe through viral dances, motivational quotes, and conspiracy theories. A quick check turns into a marathon session, and before we know it, the afternoon sun has set. This isn’t just anecdotal; studies from organisations like the Pew Research Centre highlight how average screen time surged from around 6 hours pre-pandemic to over 8 hours daily by 2022, with social media accounting for a significant chunk.

Why does this make time fly? Neurologically, repetitive, low-effort activities like scrolling create a “flow state” that’s deceptively addictive but devoid of meaningful milestones. Unlike reading a book or cooking a meal, which demand focus and yield tangible results, content consumption is passive. Our brains register fewer unique events, compressing the perception of time. As one neuroscientist put it in a 2023 TED Talk, “When every moment blends into the next without friction, days feel like minutes.”

Compounding this is our retreat from nature and genuine human interaction. Pre-2020, weekends might involve a stroll in a park, a picnic by the river, or chatting with friends at a tea stall. These activities engaged our senses: the rustle of leaves, the warmth of sunlight, the nuances of face-to-face conversation. Such experiences not only recharge us but also slow our subjective sense of time by introducing novelty and mindfulness.

Post-COVID, however, we’ve traded these for virtual communities. WhatsApp groups buzz with memes and forwards, Discord servers host “hangouts,” and Zoom calls replace family visits. While these tools kept us connected during isolation, they’ve lingered as defaults, fostering a sense of belonging without the depth of physical presence. In places like Assam, where community ties run deep through festivals and local markets, this shift feels particularly stark. A 2024 survey by the Indian Institute of Management revealed that over 60% of urban Indians reported spending more time online than with loved ones, leading to increased feelings of loneliness despite constant “connectivity.”

Interestingly, this digital immersion has a ripple effect on productivity. What starts as a break to check notifications spirals into lost hours, derailing tasks and leaving us with a nagging sense of unfulfillment. Entrepreneurs and students alike lament how “the day just vanished,” attributing it to the siren call of algorithms designed to keep us hooked. Tech giants invest billions in perfecting these systems, knowing that engagement equals revenue. The result? A society where time slips away, not in pursuit of goals, but in the pursuit of the next scroll.

To test this theory, consider those who remain largely offline. Farmers in remote villages, elders who shun smartphones, or minimalists who prioritise analogue living often report no such temporal distortion. For them, life post-2020 mirrors the rhythms of decades past: rising with the sun, tending to crops, sharing stories around a fire. A conversation with my grandfather in rural Assam revealed this stark contrast. At 78, he spends his days in the garden, reading newspapers, and visiting neighbours. “Time moves as it always has,” he says, “slow and steady, like the Brahmaputra River.” Without the barrage of notifications, their days retain the eventful quality that anchors time.

Research backs this up. A 2025 study published in the Journal of Psychology examined time perception across demographics and found that individuals with less than 2 hours of daily screen time perceived years as longer compared to heavy users. It’s a reminder that our “faster time” isn’t universal; it’s a byproduct of our choices in a hyper-connected era.

Delving deeper, fascinating elements emerge. Did you know that our perception of time is influenced by attention? According to cognitive scientists at Stanford University, when we’re engrossed in stimulating but repetitive tasks like social media, the brain’s “now” expands, making retrospect feel abbreviated. It’s akin to highway hypnosis, where miles blur by unnoticed.

Even pop culture reflects this. Songs like “Time Flies” by artists worldwide capture the sentiment, while books such as “Four Thousand Weeks” by Oliver Burkeman urge us to reclaim time from digital thieves. And here’s a quirky fact: Astronauts on the International Space Station experience time dilation due to relativity, but back on Earth, our “dilation” is psychological, driven by pixels rather than physics.

So, what can we do? The antidote lies in digital detox, a deliberate unplugging to restore balance. Start small: Designate “no-screen zones” in your home, like the dining table or bedroom. Replace evening scrolls with walks in nature, where birdsong and fresh air recalibrate your senses.

On a broader scale, communities are rising. In Assam, initiatives like local wellness retreats encourage tech-free days, blending yoga with tea garden explorations. Globally, movements like “Screen-Free Week” gain traction, proving that stepping away boosts creativity and slows perceived time.

Experts recommend journaling to track daily wins, fostering those event bookmarks. Mindfulness practices, such as meditation apps (used sparingly), train us to savour moments. And remember, detox isn’t about abandoning technology; it’s about wielding it mindfully, ensuring it serves us, not the other way around.

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