While the Tamarind Tree stood

The tamarind tree stood welcoming the oncoming wind, its branches playfully dancing with each of the wind’s touch. The shadow of the tamarind tree climbed over the walls of a bungalow, tiptoeing through one of the open doors into a hallway. The hallway was lit by the sunlight which the shadow had followed in.
Most of the doors of the rooms along the hallway were shut, the owner had largely retained the colonial style of the bungalow. The bungalow remained largely vacant. The door of the study room towards the farthest end of the hallway was open.
A pair of eyes were transfixed on an old wooden clock.. watching closely the movement of the second’s hand. “You are at it again, staring at that old clock..,” said Mr Afik as he entered the room after attending a call. With the thought now disrupted, Mr Ashok moved away from the clock and sat on the chair near the table. The table had on arrangement of a pot partially filled with tea and two empty cups with some remnants of the tea that was in them earlier.
“Do you hear it, Afik? That sound?”, spoke Mr Ashok briefly picking up a half-folded newspaper from the table, having a glance at it and keeping it back. Mr Afik shifted his focus on whether he could hear anything in particular in the room, perhaps from the hallway or maybe from outside the window, “Is it the wind? It is quite windy today.”
Mr Ashok rested his hand on the table “It is indeed quite windy today, but I was referring to the sound from the old clock. The ticking sound”
“Oh! That sound. The clock is quite old, the ticking sound from the clocks of its time is quite noticeable, such is their mechanism..” Mr Afik paused a while and spoke again, “What are you thinking exactly? That clock has been there for years. Have you found something interesting about its origin?”
Mr Ashok looked at the clock and spoke, “I am not sure of its origin myself. I am talking about its ticking sound, the other day I was listening to it and I thought how that sound was representation of the time moving by. I have heard that sound since childhood but now it seems to have developed a deeper meaning of its own. I sat and recalled my entire life to the best of my abilities and the only sound I put in that recollection was the ticking sound of this clock. It made sense, all that time gone by ticking away from one moment to another throughout the years.”
Mr Afik gave a slight a nod as he pondered over what was told, meanwhile pouring the remaining tea of the pot into his cup… and the clock kept ticking.

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Written by Anuran Chatterji

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