The Timekeeper

The most underrated in any game or challenge is the role of the Timekeeper - the most conveniently and easily forgotten person in an event. Once the race is over, who bothers about the keeper-of-time. These days we have digital monitors, so the callous negligence of the timekeeper is all the more justified. Gone are the days when people used to stand with the stopwatch and clock to record the time. We live in the age of Biometrics now. So we are now accountable to the computer. I cannot even vaguely remember the mention of any timekeepers. They are not the referees of the highly-overrated-gentlemanly games to be remembered, are they? Guiness Records, World Records and other records would not have possible without the sentinels of time.

I value my Daddy for being my Timekeeper. My life would have not been the same if it was not for my timekeeper. I also believe, had I followed his timely dictum in some areas, where I thought I knew better, my life would have had some more added charms.

If it was not for my sentinel of time, I would be late everywhere. Every night, I go to bed peacefully, because daddy dear has asked me, what time should I wake you up? At 32, my body clock should enable me to rise up on time. I do wake up too. However, my timekeeper in his unsteady gait, thanks to the near-paralytic-stroke, comes to my room to check if I have risen to do my duties. I value that presence, that concern to see me rise and shine.

If it was not for my timekeeper: I wouldn’t have read the books I did at the time I did. I wouldn’t have thought about the downtrodden. I wouldn’t have discussed unconventional ideas. I wouldn’t have spoken out in public. I wouldn’t have excelled. It was my timekeeper who told me at the outset of college, don’t get cowed down by your peers who can indulge in glib-talk. Bide your time, and time will prove your merit. Sure enough, the exams proved my worth. The newfound respect that my peers had for me is thanks to the time I kept, upon the suggestion of my Timekeeper.

The keepers of time are strict. After all, the passage of time cannot be compromised. Time lost is lost forever. Can we recall it ever except in memories? Therefore there was always a fixed time to watch TV, fixed time to play. It did us a lot of good. We read therefore; we had fun-games with sweet friends. We exercised our mind and body, thanks to Father Time, who did not spare us if we stayed out beyond 7 pm. Two soap-operas on television were the luxury we were granted. Time cannot be wasted on the Idiot-box when subjects in school demanded more timely attention. Father time stood firm on these thumb-rules which could not be bent at any cost. The timely advices, timely encouragements, timely chidings and reprimands – I value it all my charming Timekeeper. At that point in time, I did not understand, I felt hurt, I felt angry to do your bidding.

Your timely determination to shield me and my sisters from unwanted conversations, gossip, stereotypes, and prejudices brought balance in our lives. It helped us value others and see them for the people they were.We learnt to accept people without scrutinising their antecedents. Your sense of time did not mean mere punctuality. It was beyond the perfection of punctuality. We did not grow in straitjacketed situations obsessed with the idea of impossible perfections. Thank you Timekeeper for the freedom that you allowed within the time-span.

Your sense of time enabled us to follow our course of time to the hilt. We reached the goals we set out on. Finishing the course on time was important. The beautiful aspect was:you did not force a course on us. We chose our own streams. And did we flow smoothly like rivers over boulders, rocks, pebbles, nooks and crannies! No one could hinder us because time cannot be blocked. Time moves and so did we charting our course through the various rigours of times. We swirled and swayed; we steadied and found our ground. Father time did not give up on any one of us. Father Time still continues to inspire us. We feel motivated always because our beloved Timekeeper always asks, "what time do you have to go, what time should I wake you up?" What would our lives be without you?

Although, timekeepers are forgotten always, let there be a change at least in this story. My story. The stories of my sisters. In this real time, at the end of time 32, let me write this into existence: Thank you Father, for keeping the time for me, for holding the stopwatch over us to make us conscious of the landmarks and milestones that we achieved. All the sophisticated timepieces and stopwatches would be worthless without an effective Timekeeper. Therefore Hail! My TIMEKEEPER!

Class!

I thought we were through with Romantic Poetry. It was a thing of the nineteenth century where poets talked about a ‘spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings and emotions recollected in tranquility’. Infact that was Wordsworth the High Priest of Romantic poetry’s definition of poetry. Bryon was so different from the reflective and philosophical Lucy’s creator. Today, however was a day of reckoning when Byron decided to walk in and really prove that ‘poetry indeed is ‘a spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings and emotions recollected in tranquility’. He came to St.Xavier’s this morning for the 8:50 am lecture ; negotiated four floors of that Gothic heritage structure, climbed its winding steep stairs and came to classroom 43. He came, he impressed and shook the very nucleus of a batch of First year BA students of 2011 with the following:

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
- Lord Byron

Teaching this bunch of vibrant teenagers was an eccentric English teacher. She introduced Byron and declared, “ write a letter of Separation to your loved one. Caution: you are not informing your loved one that you are breaking up with him or her.” The deed is done! The relationship is already severed. The task at hand is to write about that in a non-malicious, non-bitter fashion with the intention of a release, a letting-go off pain, attachment; a fond wish that the Other should do well and the realisation that this separation is a must.

Nothing can explain ‘emotions recollected in tranquility’ better than the events which unfolded. This was not happening near ‘Tintern Abbey’. There were no lakes, no nightingales, no skylark, no westwind, no cloud, no autumn. There were no Urns where I could have preserved this incident.

While writing this epistle, the class was tempestuous, it was stormy, it was silent. The palpable silence was fraught with unshed tears, unspoken sorrows, unexpressed pain. Yes, Byron’s “When we two parted” helped in unleashing that reign of tears. Truly it was Romantic in the sense that it liberated the feelings and emotions of those youngsters who discovered a man called Byron. He enabled them to address their pain and look at it in the eye. He was the romantic chemical catalyst which generated the reactions that the students unabashedly displayed today. Byron, it was a stupendous class!

After the Byronic encounter, there was a tangible sense of calm in the air. Some left the place with a sense of relief, some with the realisation that there is so much more to their grief than they could have ever expressed.
I was a mute witness to these events. It is a rare event in a teacher’s life where s/he gets to observe the live, tender and raw emotions of his/her students. Bliss was it (for me) in that dawn to be alive! Byron, Thank you for those soft,vulnerable moments!