An old man and his dog… Or the commodification of time

I met with the wise old man… I couldn’t help being distracted by his sagacious-looking labrador. The dog looked sad.. Like it had seen too many years, and wished to see no more..The man looked sad too, a wife lost, a life past…And I walked afterwards. Taking in the roads, the houses, the lives within… Two boys playing gully cricket… Workers swinging cartons from hand to hand through a human chain… Rickshaw drivers huddled over playing a game with stones and squares, excitedly cheering each other on… Lives enmeshed on a street, all part of that microcosm, yet so oblivious of each others existence.

I walked past stores I had seen for years. Then, wait…Here’s one I’ve never seen before! Almost, like I needed to know that secret to see it. The secret one knows, only when one stops seeing time as a commodity  that has a transactional value. The secret that reveals itself, when one opts to walk, like there is nothing else to be done at that moment. Walk, even when the feet hurt. Walk, even if life streaks by – hurried, honking, hasty…

Except of course, the old man and his dog…With all the time in the world…

This entry was posted in A pitcher full of mirth, Kindred Spirit, Random random thoughts and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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