Watchmaker dream

10 pm.

Present..Skies shed another skin. Day rests. Darkness fills everywhere..dark alone prevails. Vast and hollow..eternal.."the dark". Dizzy head and aching temples long for it..day has been a carousel ride..so has been life. I need to sleep tonight. Permanently.

With weary eyes I seek and fall on the half made bed..sinfully inviting..like your lips..in the willing cushion that takes me in, I surrender. For a moment before I dissolute into feeling nothing, I stare around..dark..retina filled with it and nothing else..long tresses that curtains my crestfallen face when am on your lap that is black...bla..now bleak..vision fades to a thin line in between the lids as my eyes seek solace under a skinny layer.......peace


...12 pm, Oberstrasse, busy as usual. Wet cobblestones echoing footsteps of passers by. Wind caress my neck..chill it is..a look right towards the crossing. School of Cadillac, Merz and Alfa Romeos. Engines still hustling and bustling. Rrrrrrrrm Rrrrrrrrm. Unsettling noises..Herrman Tags Zeitung, the news mart, hustles. Wind taking turns with the sheets of paper..sound of dry papers, distinctly heard from where I stand or may be, I hear them..Apotheek on my left and the Ruhe Cafe show little life.

I stare, stare at my reflection across the road at Uhrmans, the watch shop, 160 years old. Steiger, who looks too old for his age, from inside the shop waves. I walk towards the array of watches on the display. The Swiss made and few other vintages. The Audemars, Breitling, Bulgari, Rolex, Patek Philippe and so on.. Steiger, knows them all by their make history. I derive a sense of feeling that I am standing in the heart of Clockmakers Company, in UK. Oldest horological museum in the world. The shop smells old.Rusty. Stale smell of leather and sounds of thousand hands ticking. Some symmetrical.some synchronized. some frozen..like mine

His wrinkles on the forehead and round reading glasses speaks alot about his age...stripe pressed cotton waist and double tweed coat. Cream shirt and bow. 75-year-old horologist, meticulous from his mere appearance. Steiger. “Kann Ich Du Helfen”..rusty voice of Steiger breaks my cold stares from the shelf. Even before he finishes, I place my steel base leather strapped analog on the desk. Hands frozen..at 10 am. Victorinox, a Swiss made, white base & black dial. Frozen. Time frozen. Hands held tight. They don move anymore, its arrested, but not hand cuffed. No ticks. I continue staring at the shelf, while Steiger meddles with my watch under a watchcase wrench....

10 am on my watch, hands ticking as I jog towards the station. I need to catch the train. Another day. Missing a just zipped past rover. Am in hurry. So is everybody. Life no less ordinary..everywhere..shops, stalls, bus stops, cab stands, coffee shops jus everywhere. 10.12, it says, Victorinox. Time flies in the morning..does it rest later in the day..never.

Staring at the watch I miss another pole. Signpost reads ‘Oberstrasse’. The road I pass by everyday. Adjusting tie and jacket that has come off my shoulder to the quick morning sprint. I wait for the tram. Time doesn’t. Am Waiting.., those few minutes looks eternal. Am restless. Gazing and staring at familiar faces, armpit held newspapers, Starbucks cups and croissants. Far beyond behind the sweeper, it catches my eyes. The antique shop, with hand crafted wooden clock piece. Hung outside and above the entrance. The shop is closed. Name board has come off the rails and covers the clock, partially. Reads ‘Uhrmans’. Corrosive stains on the glass window & graffiti. Nothing is visible inside. Hmmm yes, read about this street, one of the towns oldest. Read it few days back on the Leuten Zeitung. Some place it must have been years back.

Some sense of belonging, may be am a regular wanderer in the morning. I claim nativity for those few moments I pass by.. Hmm but we don’t have time to repair watches these days. But some things are stuck to your skin and can be shredded. No not necessarily those inches deep. Hmmm some satisfaction. Some pride of being born in a different time. Superbia may be. Tram hasn't come yet. Uhrman board...rattatat tat..on the walls..hmmmm. What a pleasant morning breeze, I finger my hair from the forehead.

Brought it down before my eyes to read time... its not ticking.. 10.12 still.

Nail hitting thought about the dream I had last night..Hands frozen..this time mine..time flies. Am lost in world that separates real and surreal…….still.


..Rattatat tat.