The Keeper of Time!

I am sure all of you have seen me in some way or the other, in paintings or in person. But I understand if you have not realised my existence amongst my fellow-beings. I stand at the corner of the pathway where the humans walk early mornings or late evenings, just outside Victoria Memorial in Kolkata. I am here at the same spot since the last thirty odd years (if you go by human calculations). For me, it feels just yesterday the good Samaritan in blue overalls placed me here.

I keep hearing lots of stories and chatter over the din of the moving metals boxes of various sizes (called cars) that keep honking without reason. It makes me wonder, what pleasure do they get by shouting at each other. I think they are just driven mad by the growing number of humans, hence I see them passing out more of the black air day by day, to vent their feelings.

At least I can comprehend what the humans say, unlike the cars. Most of them who sit on the bench at my foot to chat are the ones with grey hair and have difficulty in walking. Sometimes there is a man in tattered clothes who sleeps here when the sun is scorching, and then there are the young at heart who peck at each other like my friends, the Birds. I hear them chat about studies, work, money, children, houses, politics, travels, and relationships, but never about me. Yet I can't help but eavesdrop.

Nowadays, I feel sad when the ones with grey hair chat between themselves. They sound so lonely and confused at the same time. It seems none of their young ones stay with them anymore. They are either in cities they call Bangalore, Pune, Delhi, or in different countries they call US, Europe. This is happening over the last ten years. Before then, they used to talk about getting them married, and how they are faring in different life stages. Now mostly I hear them saying - my son / daughter 'called'. "They must be cooking now, they must be in office now, I heard my grandchild is growing up fast and started talking". Everything has become an assumption and craving. The human children seems to have started leaving their parents and are living independently like the Birds.

What I do not understand is, why are they never happy, why is there a mask all the time, why do they have to lie to their own, why don't they have the courage anymore to do what their heart pleases? There are two such people who come every evening. I heard them talking over the small box pressed to their ears they call 'phones', saying, "Please do not worry about us, we are fine and happy here. Visit us when you have time". And the next moment after they removed the 'phone' from their ears, they started crying, saying "wish our son can visit us this festival, we haven't seen him in two years since he went off to US". I feel so helpless, wish I could have consoled them in some way.

There is one common topic that is always in vogue in the city - Politics. The young, the old, the poor, and even the roadside vendors seem to be bound by this common term. My friend, the Dog, brings me stories from all around. That is how I know that the long strings of people who walk the roads every now and then are either supporting or protesting an idea. They convey their thoughts with 'slogans', placards, and different colour themes (which is very interesting for me, I wonder what the red or green pictures signify).

As I already said, I have seen and heard a lot over the last three decades. I have seen numerous people with varied looks and clothes visit the memorial, mostly with those clicking objects they call 'camera'. I share my experiences and thoughts with Dog, who also seems to be very perturbed nowadays. He says food is scarce and humans have become more rude. They always seem to be in a hurry and on the verge of fighting all the time. He has lived lesser than me, but he has the gift of mobility, hence has seen and heard more.

We have also faced the vagaries of weather together. There have been scorching summers, pleasant winters, and severe monsoons. I love rains, since that keeps me alive. The man in the blue overalls stopped feeding me water after a year, and I had to fend for myself. But the rains have been torrential lately. Sometimes, it goes on and on for days together, clogging the roads and making it very difficult for the men who carry behind them two big circles attached to rods (sometimes with more humans sitting on top). The cars also come to a standstill and there is even more honking, now from the humans as well, as if the boxes were not making enough noise.

What scared me was what the humans called "earthquake". One sudden afternoon, I felt excruciating pain in my veins as it got pulled and stretched for some two-three minutes. Next day the humans were ga-ga about the event, as they discussed how small an earthquake it was and comparing it to other countries, where something on the Richter scale was much higher.

Till date, I have never been scared of death. I wanted to die naturally like my fellow beings, when they grow old and dry up. The humans then saw them up and take them off to some obscure place. But this earthquake really shook me up. The humans were saying it is the result of the ravaging they are doing on Mother Nature, the increasing pollution and ever-rising population. But if such a small earthquake can cause me so much pain, I wonder how much pain my fellow beings will be in. I do not want to die an unnatural death caused by humans.

I think I can go on and on about my surroundings, the humans, the Victoria, the changes I have seen amongst all in my life. But everything looks so complicated these days, I am thoroughly confused. I long for the chatter and laughter of the small humans who used to run around me, the happy faces I see no more and the love stories that were woven around me. And I wonder, will I live to see such a day again? If not, I hope I dry up soon and die since I do not want to be the keeper of just humans sorrows.