The rapid evolution of Slim n’ Sleek technology has lead to the gradual death of certain objects that we all held so very dear in our formative years. Unnecessary excess is nowadays seen as something that should be briskly trimmed and done away with, as we progress though our lives. My friend P, recently bought an alarm clock for herself and while I am still in my frivolous shopping spree, lured by its antique look, I decided to buy one for myself as well. It is an old fashioned alarm clock, solely capable of showing the time and alarmingly screeching, whenever it is set to do so!
Purchased merely for its decorative value, it ended up to be more than it appears to be .One of the most remarkable thing about the clock is its ticking sound that constantly reminds me of the time passing by and the time that will never come back. In the quiet of the night, when every other object seems to have worn out, my little clock ticks away like a loving friend, who would never part my company!
This reminded me of the old grandfather clock that adorned our wall about a decade ago in our Calcutta
An hour gone by…an hour that will never come back!
Time is no longer what it used to be. Time is now endless. No authoritarian gong demarcates time, indicating and letting us know that it is now time to go home.. However in times as ours, I love my little old-fashioned alarm clock that reassuring ticks away with every passing second, reminding me of the significance of time and the gracious values that it has inherited from its stern and at times grumpy old grandfather.
beautiful post :)I still remember passing through some of those old big clocks in those old cities(they are here in Rome too), ticking by the hour as if to remind us of our own self or those stills and commentaries in the movies in those novels...the clock had just stuck 12 and the lonely walker was slowly moving towards his home and similar images....
ReplyDeleteMy mother too has this feeling that its only the alarm clock which could wake her, any convincing that the mobile fon can do the same work does not work with her, she says she just can't wake up with those tunes and tones.I remember the old steel ones which used to work mechanically rather than on battery and with its shrill sound just pulled us out of our quilts reminding of the work left undone and now the mobile fones doubling up as alarm clocks (as they do for me) come with different tunes and we set it and personalise it for our needs and which works for us at times which soothes us more in sleep than push us out and thats where I just keep on dreaming with it.
This doubling, this notion of utility which has acquired our minds that things have multiple purposes and functions have so much acquired us fones working as device for everything and what not, the wrist watch being its biggest victim (I dont wear it for a different reason)and u reminded of the clock too.
We are just drowning ourselves in sea of utility and with it is drowning the sense of time, but yet there is something liberating too here or is it?...the clock and the radical notion of time it promoted was an important way to normalise and control bodies and that was what moving by the clock meant of how we changed and oriented ourselves with time and subdued those spontaneous passions that we have, but this new technology which tries to liberate us constrains us more being based on notions of utility...clocks atleast said there were times to sleep and wake up, but now the fon rings, the internet hums, the messages beep and the cameras click and the anticipation always grows of who it was who called us at this hour when the time was for me and me with the time, and yet I want to say no but never say it and then time itself disappears and with it we too lost in this deluge of information, of utility.....
lets be nostalgic for sometime, i want to join in too, I want my clock too :)
With every passing moment, we realize that everything is transient. Good times, bad times. It's good to know that as long as it ticks, at least the clock will remain:)
ReplyDeleteprecisely these kind of writings make me nostalgic, as I work through another "mon kharap kora dupur bela"
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