The Death of Playgrounds: What Happens When Kids Stop Playing Outside

There was a time when childhood was full of noise — not from phones or tablets, but from kids laughing in the sun, playing ghatta, chasing balls down dusty alleys. Faces were smudged with dirt, knees were scraped, and every bruise came with a story.

Today, something has gone quiet. Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the kind that signals absence. Swings stand still. Open fields have become parking lots. Marbles have been replaced by mobile games. The playground is gone — and no one seems to have noticed its funeral.

But this loss isn't just about empty spaces. It’s emotional. Cultural. Even national.

The Importance of Roots and Memories

You don’t need a passport to feel like you belong. Sometimes, it just takes a memory — like digging in the dirt to hide a marble, or the smell of wet soil after the rain. Real connection to a place isn’t taught in schools — it’s felt in the body and remembered through the senses.

Those who grew up barefoot on warm earth, who played street cricket with sticks, who drew circles in the mud with their fingers — many of them still feel a pull to this land. Some returned after years abroad. Others never left. But they stayed connected because their roots were deep.

Then there are the children who were told dirt was bad. That messy clothes meant poor manners. That clean, screen-based play was the proper way to grow up. No one told them to forget their land — but no one helped them remember it either.

Now, we wonder why so many young people leave and never return. But how can someone come back to a place they never felt truly part of?

Childhood is where that bond is quietly built — and when that bond is never formed, there’s nothing to return to.

Those Who Returned — And Why

People like Mahabir Pun, Surendra Bhandari, and Swarnim Wagle could have built comfortable lives abroad. But they came back — driven not just by duty, but by memory. Something from their childhood — a hill, a village, a feeling — called them home.

Even Rabi Lamichhane, regardless of how people view him, returned from a successful life abroad to reconnect with his roots. Malvika Subba, despite having every chance to leave, stayed. Why? Because the place that raised her never let go.

They didn’t return because of policy or politics. They returned because something in them never left.

When We Replace Dirt with Screens

By taking children away from outdoor play and giving them screens instead, we’re not just changing how they spend time — we’re removing their sense of belonging. A child who never climbs a tree may never feel the joy of taking a risk. A child who never races a friend might never learn healthy competition.

The cost isn’t just emotional — it’s physical too. Without sunlight, kids now face vitamin D deficiency. Without movement, they struggle with mood and focus. Without falling and getting back up, they don’t learn resilience.

Instead of nature, they get notifications. Instead of friendship, followers.

Where Can They Even Play?

With fields turning into buildings and courtyards being paved over, children don’t just lose play spaces — they lose places where imagination can grow. In cities and even in villages, construction is eating up the very spaces childhood needs to survive.

Many parents today proudly buy gadgets for their kids, measuring success by how well they use a device, not by how well they climb a tree. Mud is seen as dirty for kids, but praised as “therapy” for adults in fancy spas. That’s a double standard.

The Playground Was the Therapist

Running through rain, digging holes, playing in streams — these weren’t just games. They were ways kids learned to feel joy, process emotions, and connect with nature. They built character, not just memories.

We need to stop asking only if our children are prepared for school. We must also ask: are they prepared for life?

Because a child who never played in the mud may never feel grounded.

A child who never fell may never learn to rise.

A child who never had the freedom to run may never know what it feels like to belong.