Blankness all around- not blackness- just white blankness. A dead end. It has been so long now- I do so want to be a part of here- feeling so left out if I don’t interact-but no words- have I forgotten my abc’s? aisa kyon hota hai?
Days flow into one another- and I keep floating in the usual routine-sometimes I get this feeling of being frozen in a time frame- I look outside and I see a frenzy- everybody else seem to have a destination, a deadline- something akin to watching the train whiz past from my balcony- for a split second the present of those numerous passengers and mine overlap and then the next moment it is like never been. It is like they have entered the future, and I remain wedged in the past.
At this moment I am reminded of a few lines from an essay- “My watch”- by Mark Twain. The context referred to is about Twain’s new watch that goes haywire and numerous visits to the watch repairer only exacerbates the problem. After the first couple of visits, the watch which was initially racing past, gets slowed down to an amazing degree. Twain describes his predicament thus:
“After being oiled and regulated, my watch slowed down to that degree that it ticked all appointments I go to, missing my dinner, I gradually drifted back to yesterday, then the day before, then into last week and by and by the comprehension came upon me that all solitary and alone I was lingering alone in the week before last, and the world was out of sight…”
But while Twain could lay the blame on his malfunctioning watch, I have no such alibi.But I do not feel left out- I do not mind just watching- except that there is this little nook in my heart where I wonder- will my quota of such placid moments get depleted? Does every individual have a fixed quota of still ness, activity, happiness, sadness prescribed in a lifetime, am I using up my quota, will I have to pay for this placidity, this contented complacence at some point of time in the future? Have always heard, time is precious, not to waste a single moment-etc. etc- then is it a crime that I seem to languish in a sea of time? Need I feel guilty that when others are racing against time, I seem to be squandering it away? Is there some kind of law of existence that states that moments of relaxation have to be earned by hard toil? Is it possible to lend time to others who need it? Is it possible to stock time in some safe deposit for future use? And draw interest too?