In our village during my childhood, elders used to express this diction, “as Ali went to Napuram” (Napuram was a shortened colloquial version of Nadapuram, a small town with shops, government administrative offices, courts, police station etc for the region, about 5 to 6 kms from my village, this being a walking distance as motorised transports were rare.) They narrated a story of antiquity (or a story from imagination, but surely a possibility)in connection with this.

The immensely wealthy and Socially admired landlord, Hajiyar (widely known with the word itself meaning a person who has performed Holy Haj in Mecca),
sat relaxingly on the luxurious unpolished teakwood easy chair in the long open verandah of his mansion, keeping both legs raised on the long and horizontal leg supports. On a small table beside him lay some bundles of old and torn official documents, some sort of property deeds.

Picking up from the bundles, he was scrutinizing each and every paper with some failed attempts to read and was keeping them back, some specifically on a separate fresh bundle. With intermittent belchings following the heavy and lavish dinner he had had a short time before collapsing on the chair, he was spitting out into the tall brass spittoon kept for the purpose on the floor near the chair, the dark red solution formed by the combination of saliva and the betel being chewed with arecanut and lime.

On an alert, as if remembering something instantly, Hajiyar, having taken out the solid waste of the pan from his mouth in his hand, dumped it in the spittoon and spat the remaining waste alongwith the red solution still in the mouth, yelled out in a gentle and elongated tone, “Aalee”.

Before he finished the lyric Ali, Hajiyar’s ever-together servant, appeared at a corner of the front open courtyard. Ali was top in trustworthiness, sincerity and hardworking but a very simple and humble man. Noticed, he walked towards Hajiyar along the side steps of the verandah and stood behind the large lathe shaped wooden pillar supporting the structure of red tiled roof, waiting for the order.

“You will go to Napuram in the morning”, Hajiyar spoke to him with a confirmed voice ending the order. Ali left the verandah and walked along the courtyard to the back of the mansion. Hajiyar continued his job for some more time before going to bed with the bundles in his hand, the sorted out one separately.

In the next morning as usual, Hajiyar had a very relaxing and peaceful short nap after the morning rituals and prayer. He was again relaxing on the easy chair exactly in the same pose and style with ingredients in his mouth after the heavy breakfast, when he called Ali in the same tone, “Aalee”

Ali appeared and stood behind the pillar as before. With a glance on the small bundle of old and torn documents seeming to be the sorted ones lying on his side table, Hajiyar asked in a cordial manner, “Aren’t you going to Napuram?”

“I went and came back.” Hearing the polite and self content reply from Ali, Hajiyar lost his mind for a moment.

The clock struck five times to wake me in the morning.  I could hear the pleasing, melodious musical notes very clearly, as my doors were open for fresh air to circulate around. As I opened my eyes the beautiful scenes of my mysterious dream were fading from my mind.  None of them remained there in a clear and retrievable condition,  but some bits and patterns as usual.

I poured some water into the glass tumbler from the jar kept on the small bedside table. I felt water tasted better in the morning than at any other time of the day.

After  the basic preliminary procedures in the toilet which took a short time, I sat in the  lounge opposite to and facing  the clock which happened to be the motivator of the day for  me. I was awaiting  my wife for a cup of hot tea, watching the clock.   It stood there like a carved statue of a great historical  giant.

The whole wooden structure is taller than me when I stand by its side, my face being slightly below its own face with all the essentials of a clock’s dial. The long metallic hand of the minutes and the short one of hours with the surrounding twelve metallic numerals, all in black colour with a white textured background, constitute  the major components.   There oscillates a shining metallic rod  with a golden disc at the bottom end, better known as pendulum.  The face has a small  framed door with a  glass pane and the  tall body has  similar but longer one. The bottom shelf  has yet another door  without glass. At the top on the sides there are two battery compartments with small doors to store the fuels for the entire system.

The Oxford dictionary defines the clock as an instrument for measuring and indicating time.  The invention of the first clock is not known, but the first striking  clock was made in Milan in the year 1335.  The oldest clock still existing is in Rouen,  France. It was built in 1389. Although the mechanisms and working principles were far developed  and varied now,  the clock does the same job.

The clock is very honest in its duties and very punctual. It does its works  independently and does not look or wait for others to do any  job. It is neither late nor early anywhere, but in time. It is a living creature as long as it is fuelled adequately.  Specifically the clock is the only one  among the living and the non living that keeps time and is independent and regular.

I, or all of us, only try to keep time, be independent and be regular; but most of the time fail with long lists  of excuses and complaints.