Justice Anand Venkatesh
It was just another leisurely holiday morning, and I had gone to the gym for my usual routine. As I warmed up on the treadmill, running at my own pace, my eyes drifted towards the wall clock. That silent, unmoving face with two hands ticking away suddenly struck me with the force of a bolt out of the blue. Here was a small man-made machine showing me “time.” But what exactly is this time that has ruled over me, and over all of us? How did this abstraction, born for convenience, come to dominate our lives with such quiet tyranny?
Time, in its practical sense, is not a natural law like gravity. It is a human invention, a concept carved out of nature's cycles to ensure order in society. The sun rises and sets, the moon waxes and wanes—we divided this rhythm into hours, minutes, seconds. We built clocks, calendars, schedules, time tables, and with them, we built civilization. Without time, trains cannot run, courts cannot function, and meetings cannot be held. And yet, this invention has become a master. What began as a tool for smooth functioning has transformed into a ruler demanding loyalty.
Everywhere I turn, I hear the same sermon—be punctual. Manage your time well. Do not waste another's time. To waste time is to waste life itself. These phrases echo in the daily routine of modern society. And beneath them lies a subtle anxiety. Why do I often find myself irritated by the innocent ticking of a clock on the wall? Why do I sometimes feel an urge to break its dial, as though smashing it could liberate me from its relentless command?
Ironically, parallel to this obsession with time is the human appetite for luxury watches. People sport gleaming, costly brands proudly on their wrists—symbols of power, wealth, and precision. But many who brandish them are themselves chronically unpunctual. What irony resides here! Time as performance is often more important than time as discipline. The watch is no longer about punctuality, but about status.
This paradox grows sharper when one looks at cultural traits. Western societies are often praised for their punctuality. People in Europe and America instinctively treat time as linear, like an arrow moving toward a definite end. Their worldview, shaped by the belief in one life and one life only, compels them to do everything within its bounded span. If life is a single race, every minute counts. Punctuality then becomes an ethical, almost sacred, duty.
On this side of the globe, the orientation has been different. Ancient civilizations like ours inherited a cyclical view of time. With the philosophy of rebirth woven deep into cultural consciousness, time is not seen as a narrow line but a revolving wheel. Life does not end with a deadline. There is another chance, another birth, another opportunity. With such a worldview, punctuality is often relaxed. If not now, tomorrow. If not in this life, perhaps in the next. This is not a justification for indiscipline, but it underscores the deeper connection between metaphysics and daily practice. The clock does not look the same to the westerner and the easterner.
Yet, no matter which worldview one carries, the fact remains that time today shapes all existence. Careers are measured in years. Success is linked to age. Relationships are evaluated by “quality time.” Technology promises to save time even as it consumes more of it. Indeed, modern advertisements are filled with the language of time: fast food, quick loans, instant communications. Time has become not only money but also status, survival, and self-worth. We have allowed the mechanical ticking on the wall to become the ticking within our minds.
Something about this paradox makes me restless. I want to believe that time is a mere construct, that it is within my control. And yet, when I saw that clock in the gym, I realized that I had been there for an hour and a half, completely unaware of how much had passed. The very thought of “wasted time” haunted me, and I hurried to keep my next appointment. How deeply the little machine governs me! The tool has mastered the maker.
But perhaps, this is where the distinction must be made. To rebel against the clock is foolish; to smash it is only a gesture. The real rebellion is in recognizing that while society needs time to function, the soul does not. To live meaningfully is not measured in hours spent or deadlines met. It lies in moments of presence, awareness, and inner peace. The clock may quantify my day, but only I can qualify my life.
And so, as I walked back from the treadmill into the motion of the day, I realized that the challenge is not to enslave time, nor to be enslaved by it, but to walk alongside it. Time, after all, is indifferent. It ticks on, with or without me. It is I who must find harmony with it.
“Silent keeper with a heart of steel,
You order my days with a tireless wheel.
I rush when you summon, halt when you stay,
You rule my night, you own my day.
Yet beyond your tick, beyond your chime,
Lies a truth untouched by time.
Moments lived with soul awake,
Are riches no hourglass can ever take.
So tick, O clock, your endless song,
I'll walk with you, but not belong.
In stillness deep, I come to see,
Eternity is now, and it dwells in me.”
Author is a Judge, High Court Madras. Views Are Personal.