Thursday 27 May 2010

One Constant in Relentless Change!

It was dusk and the sun turned bronze from radiant gold, peeking out from behind the gentle Cirrus which was splattered across the eternal canvas. A cool wet breeze carrying the occasional grain of sand blew landwards purging heat and assuaging pain. It would be evening soon.


I saw two children being led carefully through the sands, as though being introduced to the Bay, by their grandmother – although it would be very lenient of me to say that they were indeed ‘being led’, and soon enough poor old Grandma had no control of the children as they boisterously somersaulted over each other and threw fist-fulls of sand at each others’ face. After feeble initial protest, the old lady gradually grew despondent and helpless, after which she swore (imitating the great Bheeshma) to the God of the Sea – “I shall, never again, accompany these two children to the beach, alone.” This seemed to work miracles on the impetuous duo and almost magically tranquillity returned to the shores of the Bay of Bengal. I smiled as I saw two guilty looking children and one exasperated Grandma departing, to catch an Auto, together.


As I continued walking along, I saw a group of kids in their later teens playing beach-football. This was not uncommon as beach football was one of the most popular sports played in these parts. Most passes were played in the air and the curl of the shot was often aided by the wind, playing diabolical tricks on the hapless shot-stopper. I looked down and I noticed no more fine patterns and designs drawn by the fine hand of the wind; as all intricacy lay mutilated - bearing testimony to the savage struggles for the football. I jogged past the kids who were bellowing as loudly as their larynxes permitted. Soon, I reached the jogging track.


I witnessed a melange of people here – the twenty year old whose life seemed all but directionless, seated with other twenty year olds who were equally lost, discussing the futilities and pleasures of life, pausing only to take in the occasional stunner; the young gentleman who ran incessantly down the track, wincing as his muscles pumped battery acid, all the while listening to music streaming into his ears through his new iPod; the middle-aged man who walked down the side-lane hand-in-hand with his new wife as they planned their new universe; and the young man or old boy who was madly in love with his hot girlfriend.


I was getting tired and thought of retiring to the nearby Barista, which offered ambrosial delights for a fortune, leaving the customer a few notes lighter… Or maybe the nearly awesome Food-Court called ‘Planet Yumm’ which was the favourite haunt of children of all ages… I paused ephemerally by the group of gossiping old men so as to tell them the time, only to almost be bundled over by an irresponsible pram.


By now, the Sun was no longer visible and the sea seemed to be the beacon of light. The surroundings began to drown me as various elements began to coalesce. The sky was blue, green and violet all at the same time. A distant ship twinkled bravely as the world around me began to succumb in a conflation of immaculate grandeur. I was so lost in the spectacle that I almost forgot who I was!


The infant in the pram, the child with its grandmother, the teenage footballer, the old boy with his new girlfriend, the young jogger, the middle-aged man with his wife, the old gentleman in a veshti asking for the time – were all one person. And I am Time.

12 comments:

  1. I really regret my inertia as far as beach football goes. Definitely feel that the world missed out a (beach) messi or atleast a Valencia.

    On a completely different note, good post ra. There is nothing which can stop time like a solitary walk across the expanse of bessi.

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  2. Impressive writing :)

    Although, I must ask, when have you ever turned up at teh beach before sunset?

    Mod

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  3. I was almost teleported to the place that you were at. And trust me, it's a great feeling.

    I don't know about you being Time, but you are one helluva great writer!

    Aren't you tired of my salutes, already? :)

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  4. Romanticizing our daily, dreary, for-lack-of-anything-better-to-do trips to Bessie eh? You can't fool us all :p But nice piece all the same :)

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  5. Romanticizing our daily, dreary, for-lack-of-anything-better-to-do trips to Bessie eh? You can't fool us all :p But nice piece all the same :)

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  6. Shreyas, I miss playing too... But I never do! Thanks, but do it on a Sunday night and you'll never again tread this path!

    Mod, thanks man. True... But my beach timings used to be from five unto eight during my schooldays!

    Anunaya, yes... You can restrain yourself more often :) thanks, though. Nice to know I could bring a beach to Delhi.

    Ani, Oh yes! One does have to pep it up, you know... On a serious note, what else has remained the same in our lives since 8th?! It's a remarkable feat. Respekt, Bessi!

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  7. The one by Anirudha ! nice !

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  8. I'm sure one Ms. Annie would be squirming in her grave seeing all these "Bessi"s being splattered about here.

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  9. Marina > Besi

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  10. @ Mohit, Thanks man. Hope you're treating your intern well. Thappad mat de usko :)

    @ Murtha, Ms. Annie smiles in death.

    @ Dela, Size - yes. Awesomeness: Marina <<<< Bessi

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  11. Have you ever watched Ramanand Sagar's great epic Mahabharat on television? Samay, and its immortal baritone- you really ought to listen to it once. _I am time_ is this legendary character's copyright.

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  12. @ Arun, Of course... How can we forget the great "Mein samay hun" clock amidst all the emptiness? And thanks for reminding me... Long time since I reminisced those days!

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