P. G. Bhaskar :
My family has very strong views on punctuality. Not in the accepted sense of all of us get ready on time or reach our destination when expected, but in a different, almost quirky way. Each person at home has his or her own, well-defined idea of time and its importance. We have our individual, special way of dealing with it, which is followed consistently, even insistently. This has given rise to a kind of fragile, delicate, mutual understanding which we endeavour to somehow balance and keep afloat. It’s like treading on cracked glass. Sometimes, the system splinters, but often enough, it survives to see another day; a few frayed edges and raised voices notwithstanding.
Over the years, we have understood and accepted each other’s philosophy of time. Slowly, some kind of clarity is beginning to show. This may not immediately be clear to the outsider. But to us at home, a faint but visible pattern has emerged.
For example, if we all plan one day, to leave home at 7.30 pm to visit a friend the following day, (which probably means the friend has asked us to come by 7 pm) we will -almost predictably- leave at 8.20 pm. This, mathematically speaking, is the most probable outcome. There are sub patterns as well. The entire process will begin with my father looking nervously at the clock from around 4 pm. Having looked several times at the clock, he will then look at us conveying concern, even worry, though he won’t actually say anything. By some form of telepathy, his nervous tension will soon start permeating my system, but not the others. At about 7.15, my father will leave the living room, proceed to his bedroom and return at 7.25, exactly five minutes before the planned time of departure. I will then quickly step in and return at 7.30 sharp. From then onwards, both of us will start clearing our throats and looking pointedly at my wife and son, who in turn, will pretend that we don’t exist. An occasional snigger may emanate from their direction, but they will continue to do whatever it is that they are doing (or if they are doing nothing, will continue to do nothing) till about 7.50 at which time, one of them will slowly commence a nonchalant walk towards the bedroom. Shortly thereafter, the other will follow. At around 8.05 both will emerge (free from any trace of guilt), when my wife will find either my son’s hair or his attire (or both) inappropriate for the occasion.
A small argument will ensue following which my son will re-enter his bedroom and return five minutes later looking exactly the same. At ten minutes past eight, all of us will be waiting for the lift. Just as it arrives, my wife will go back in and return at 8.20. It works like clockwork, every time; it’s surreal.
Some families believe that time is fixed. Well, in my house, the answer is yes and no. Two of us at home seem to believe this; my father particularly. The others have a different notion of time. While they agree with time as a concept, they believe in its fluidity of state, perhaps feeling that since humans devised the notion of time and also invented clocks and watches, time should revolve around humans and not the other way round. They place themselves at the centre of things rather than cater to time. This is quite an interesting theory, one which deserves serious thought.
My wife particularly, is a firm proponent of the school of thought that time needs to behave itself and that the numbers we have assigned to it are at best, a mild convenience and at worst, a bally nuisance.
But coming back to the subject, our individual lifestyles too, are varied and follow our thought process on this matter of time. My father goes to bed when it’s his bed-time; I go to bed when I’m reasonably sleepy. My wife and son stay awake until they collapse.
Even when it’s a question of reaching the airport, this pattern continues, with individual justification. If we have to catch a flight at say 10 in the morning, my wife would leave at 8 (“There will be others who will be late, I’m sure the flight will wait”) my son would leave at 8.30 (Shrug, “It’s okayyy!”) I’d leave at 7 (“What if the traffic is heavy or we come across an accident somewhere?”) and my father would leave at 6 (“What if the traffic is heavy, there is an accident and the flight takes off early?!”).
(P G Bhaskar is a private banker and an author)
