Social Short Story – A Clockwork Life
Photo credit: faustfoundation from morguefile.com
A circle.
A loop.
A halo.
The clock on the wall is ticking aloud when the seconds-hand puts forth it’s footsteps while running along the circular path divided by numbers known as hours. The old rusty ceiling fan rotates as its long leaves flap with noise in the air like those restless children who scream while playing merry-go-round in the park. The silence of late night was completely occupied by the rhythmic duet sung by the clock and the fan which continued for hours until it all ended in a finger snap. Everything in the room stood still in the dead drop silence but then I woke up from my sleep when it was sharp 7:05 AM.
Now, the birds on the tree, the vendors on the street, the newspaper boy who cycles every morning and literally everything was back to life including me. I could hardly differentiate between yesterday’s newspaper and today’s newspaper, if today’s newspaper was not dated Monday, 08 March 2010. It’s the same old news everyday unless your city was attacked by the most notorious group of terrorists or if your beloved one dies in an accident.
I went to work as a part of my daily rituals. I have been 22 years in the same office where a lot of changes have taken place like typewriters to computers, fax machines to emails, land phones to cordless phones , new Xerox machines, new furniture, new staffs, new peon except the same old me. When I was back home after work, I lay on my bed that night pondering about all the 22 years I have spent. How was I more or less different from the seconds-hand which had to trace the same circular path everyday by the curse of time and the ceiling fan which is compelled to rotate its leaves by the command of its electric switch?
But they are machines. But am I a machine? Or am I human pretending to be a machine? Fireworks of questions in various colours and sizes kept on exploding in my brain that night until I finally slept. Silence poured back in for a moment. Then the clock and fan started performing the duet. But this time, my deep intuitions suggested that the clock and the fan were indeed murmuring about my boring life in the disguise of rhythmic duet. After all who knows? Many days passed by when my head popped out thousands of insane questions followed by a troubled sleep at night.
Next morning, birds on the tree chirped, vendors in the street opened their sales, the newspaper boy threw in the newspaper and the bed was empty. I was not there in the bedroom or perhaps not even in bathroom or kitchen. Nowhere in the house, could my breath be heard. Meanwhile, the boss of the company receives an email
From: vishal#u#a#1#@#ma#l.com
To: to#y#am#s_hr@brite#te#hn#logies.com
Date: 15 March 2010 1:00 AM
Place: Bangalore, India.
Subject: Resignation Letter
Sir,
I would like resign my position as a Senior PHP Developer with Britex Technologies Ltd. to leave 15 March 2010.
I am deeply sorry if this decision is going to bring a negative impact to the company but my decision is already taken and there is no turning back. I am deeply grateful to the company for supporting all through my life for 22 years.
I understand that my decision was sudden and certainly I would explain you why. You probably didn’t know much about my second half. I am talking about divorced wife. As a young man when I thought I was matured enough, I took an erroneous step to divorce when I was at the verge of stress as you know we couldn’t have a child and she insisted on a job offer she received from a company in Canada. For the worst part, we never met or even contacted ever after. My ridiculously resolute mind thought that my circle of colleagues was enough for me stay peaceful and happy. Things changed a hell lot. New staffs came in leaving many of my colleagues out of the company.
Everything changed. I got old and started getting too many wrinkles to unfold. Days of solitude went by blowing out each lighted candle of my soul day-by-day. As my body drained down all my life inside to a lifeless body, it seemed like my small talks were easy with lifeless objects like the clock and the ceiling fan in my bedroom wrapped in insane thoughts and questions I had at night.
One morning after jogging back home I was frustrated by the chewing gum that stuck to my shoes. While I sat down at couch to remove it, I read it and I sat still for a while. It said “Just Do it”. At that point, I realised that this is the time for reversion. It is sometimes funny to wonder how a lifeless object catches our attention so politely, very quietly whispers those magical spell into our ears and it dramatically changes our lives. Artists and poets do have a name for it. Yes, it’s called an inspiration. Until, we meet again. So long.
Yours Sincerely,
Vishal K.
–END–
