“What time is it now?” I used to
ask my grandfather frequently as a kid. In a span of 30 minutes, this was 10th
time, and each time he would reply with a smile – showing the clock and progress
its hands had made from the time of last enquiry.
Disappointed at its slow pace, I
would wander around again to come back to him with the same question after a
few minutes. Old man, knowing the intention behind repeated enquiries - would
carefully explain that it was 30 minutes past five; and would take 30 more
minutes for my mother to return from office. As a kid of working mother, 6’o clock in the
evening had a special meaning for me. It was the time when she would return. On
some days, by the time it was 4:30 in evening, urge to see her home used to be
so pressing that I had to call her office and ask if she would be home by 6. She would confirm that she would be back by 6 –
and that helped me cross the last hour and a half.
While growing up, things changed –
the time that was spent waiting for her, soon got filled with engrossing
cricket games in society, tuition classes and group studies with friends. My
calls to her at 4:30 in evening, changed to her calls to my friends’ homes
around 8 PM to enquire if I was there. On moving to college, that threshold
only got pushed further.
At times her “Good Night” message
was an unpleasant reminder for guilt of not calling her for the entire day. Quick
call back to compensate and an assurance to call early next morning were
nothing but failed attempts to cover up.
Once I started working, things
did not improve either. Growing social commitments kept on pushing the time
further – and for a certain time, my call was the last thing she would attend
to before falling asleep.
I then moved to Denver, Colorado
for work. Due to the 12 and a half hour time difference, there would be none
that I can call in India during my day time. This simple realization brought
back, the importance I used to attach to 6’o clock (IST) – the only difference,
it would be 6 AM IST this time! Hand goes to the phone more often, after 5 PM
MST – as that’s the time my mother would have woken up at home. On weekends, I have actually called home at 5
PM MST a couple of times – and waking them up a tad bit earlier than the usual
time.
It is very hard to appreciate one’s
mother, I don’t know why – perhaps because it is not possible. But luckily,
this co-incidental reunion with 6’o clock routine helped me become a bit more
aware about the warm rush of blood it used to trigger in my heart as a 5-6 year
old – and still does.
