I’ve always thought of time as something that pulsates with life… an entity that you can, if you really wish to, touch, poke, and tickle… the funny thing is that time camouflages itself as a left-brained creature every time I dive into the abstraction surrounding reality. This happened again a few nights back when I was writing a post and opted for this title: ‘To right, or not to right.’
A left-brained time bit immediately responded, ‘I can decipher a cliché in it’s core. And knowing that it is Modi’s relationship with Jashodaben that you want to write on, give away the right to use the first ‘right’ and choose ‘write’ instead. This way you’ll be able to prop two images of a man who is able to write her name finally once he decides to right the wrong that he had been succumbing to.’
‘Makes sense,’ I said, and changed the title to ‘To write, or not to right’ and the post even got published in a newspaper.
But time is not such a transparent body. If it enjoys being left-brained, it loves being right-brained as well and so changes its stance from being logical, analytical, and objective to being intuitive, thoughtful, and subjective. I remember impulsive moments ranging from wanting to buy a beach shirt twenty-five years back to trying to convince myself to buy a treadmill for the past ten years now… and not just in these instances, but also in the hundreds of such rash-n-brash times that I mustered up all my logical arguments only to be fizzled by the utterly intuitive and thoughtful invasions by a right-brained time. There was always simple sentences like: ‘You aren’t going to a beach this year and my gut feeling is that you wouldn’t even touch it next year’ or ‘Walk and watch the poetry of a sunrise… let the trees and the birds and the early morning breeze come to heal the bruises of day past’… and you know very well how powerful a subjective thrust can be.
Thus time, I guess has protected me from both actions and inactions that may have caused me harm. And I have always, looking back in time of course, loved this trait of time.
Time has walked by my side and with cursory, innocuous gestures guided me on all sorts of paths… we have crossed river-beds together, trekked with hands held, leaped over ditches and pot-holes, walked carefully over slippery ground, reached summits, and many times just stood and watched the world go by. Did I do all this alone? No. I always looked towards time and found all my answers there.
Yes, time has even guided me in sensual pursuits, literally French-kissing the evolution of my boyhood to manhood. I learnt how to walk the tight-rope of relationships watching time do it effortlessly.
Life has more or less been like a performance of time that I have watched sitting in the front row, making frantic notes, learning, making resolutions, and smiling at the changes that I thought of after every show. So time demonstrated how to differentiate between a time burger and time burglar, or how to stay away from time bombs, time bandits, and time bitches. I am now able to talk intelligently about time capsules and time crapsules… all because time had the time to time all the lessons well.
Therefore, it’s time to talk of time.
Hey wait… it is now actually time to talk of a speck of time. The truth is that we’re all specks of time, if I may attempt a bit of metaphysics here. You wouldn’t be surprised to hear me calling my speck of time Specky, would you? Well, this Specky is my Specky, always busy demonstrating and teaching me the intricacies of life and living. You’ll find this Specky in almost all my posts in my blog, if you choose to read them through… always extracting me from a sludgy situation or just putting me on the right track, or even creating a path for me to walk on. This Specky is obviously my role model. This Specky happens to be my wife… just a speck of time, if I may say so.
08 May 2014