prose, Story, travel

Tick Tick Life

It is 15:15 by my clock on my cell phone’s lock screen right now and the ticket reads Arrival at 21:27. My quick yet rough calculation says “Just 6 hours and 12 minutes of survival on this boring seat”. I left Delhi around 13:48 with 87% battery in my phone, which is just 21 now. The constant locking and unlocking might have led to such a drop. Either I am a very impatient person or the clock is killing the mere time. My posture, eyes and hands are so constant that I am feeling joules of energy filling my mind as all the outlets where dissipation takes place seem to be closed or stoned. All my focus is pitched on those trees passing by at a count of 1 tree every 10 seconds when the window glass is tightly intact to the panel and 3 trees every 10 seconds when the same glass is knocking the holder in a frightening tune. My very own clock is there to give me an indication of time which is dying with every tree. There is something to replace the electronic clock in my gadget which is at the verge of dying, giving life to time. The travel, the journey is more beautiful than the destination itself. It keeps on adding time and moments in our life, if you wait and observe it patiently, else it might just keep on cutting our deserving period.

Just imagine, one fine day you are told that you have only 30 days on count left to live and you’ll not be able to breathe in the air of hope the very 31st day from right this moment. Will you still live in your unified calm universe? What will you do? Crib and cry with a calendar in your hand, crossing out days as time passes. Obviously, it won’t matter even if you have befriended the one who could change facts, and in no time a knife twisting your dark soul will rip off your will. A clock; something which is making you count every second will start running this limited marathon with exponentially increasing zeal to leave you 10 feet down in a coffin. Take out that battery, that tiny white rat and tie yourself to its tail. Maybe then, you’ll be able to cross that benchmark. Death will again be a question and, no one knows when it’ll come. Finally, you’ll have your own infinity to love and please yourself.

Time is the definite and the only measure of existence. Even though time for a man in coma for 11 odd years was dead the entire period he was in that state, the clock was running like mad man and ended up with grey hair along with wrinkles on his face. As soon as he wakes up from the trauma, time for him awakes after a long sleep but, the clock has reduced its speed to almost negligible in terms of changes that we can observe. Even the legendary Mahabharata describes time as the most powerful tool for destruction if kept under observation and as the mightiest crown if used without burdening it with your desires. No matter how many hours it’ll take for this journey to end, I can’t hinder the stats plotted on the life versus time graph. It is inevitable and beautifully crafted without the ticking of the three arms simultaneously.

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