( ,' )

Imagine a clock. As sharp as a prism. Time comes in. It is split. Seven different "nows" are born. They come of age in an instant, for an instant is all they get before the next tick tock.

The time on the Right ( of the time elsewhere?) is fairly important. Let us label it. Call her Judy. Judy is hard to resist and impossible to pin down. A real lady. She wafts as she spreads. There are sharp rumors of her in nooks and crannies. 

But Judy will not bear ill-repute. There are places where try as she may she does not fit. These are the Anachronia. Over anachronia she merely floats.

Asleem is a good man. He sleeps. He is awoken, by the twin 'avataars' of urgency and insecurity. He dons his commercial uniform. Peter England and checked. (Yes). Gray trousers from Raymond. (Yes). The watch passed down, lost and finally recovered form Timex Corp U.S.I(ndia) (Yes).  Sensible shoes brown, scrubbed at the toe worn at the heel (yet how he wishes that they display pizzazz!). (Yes). And the belt. (Oh the belt!). Without the "belt" there is no respect. But a buckle a moment he puts on his straight jacket. Pushing the spoke through weathered orifice and he is ready. Then it is only the commute.

Opens the door. Out and then the twirl around. Brow knitted in concentration. A key fumbled for in the right place. (Always!). Left pocket of current gray trouser. Still acutely aware, the half twist. Stuck. But that is the usual. More pressure applied, probably the pascal needed. Just so and it turns. One two three- That is what it takes! Homage payed to the obsequious Godrej lock he continues onward.

Staircase one step at a time like hopscotch on two legs. Down the darkened passage past abandoned electrical boxes. Wires fall like medusa hair from cracked junction boxes. Blue green Red yellow. Wires that emote. a jumble of emotiwires. Past them and into the daylight. It is now nine 'o' clock. (cheep cheep.)

Up/Down the street then 'Maharishsi Marg' bifurcated by mud and mayhem. Past 'Ghankar Wines' (sniff sniff and middle class outrage). Past Ramakant's depot ( SIM cards JUGAADOO and more..). A quick glance toward Joe' Costa's stationery shop ( pilot pen and aakanksha copybook) and then left onto 'Manoj Palekar' street and he reaches 'Auto' stand. 

"Twe(n)ty, thi(r)ty, fo(r)ty rupis?  . Twety ate? Okay." (Always twety ate never mo(r)e never les(s)). And we are off to far and beyond. Little pot belly goes a wiggly jiggly, mind maps the 'Gayatri mantra', arms akimbo like Marlboro cowboy, state of trance, state of right, state of solitude (and all that!). Twe(n != necessary)ty minutes. (Yes). And then a workplace.

Judy observes floatingly. Rumbling and rambunctious, calmly and charismatically comes a voice. - " Asleem is dimensions of anachronia. ( I-ta-liks != necessary anymore). And I love him so."

So?