The Time Machine

“Are your watches working?” I stopped two strangers walking past me and asked.

“No” one of them replied. “It had stopped working at 7 o’ clock today morning”

“Even my watch stopped working at 7 this morning” his companion pointed out to me. “But strangely, I remember seeing time at 9:00 and 10:15 today. I do not understand how can it go back and stop at 7 on its own?”

A third stranger overheard the conversation and joined in “Even my watch was working fine. I saw time on my watch several times today. And then the time moved back and stopped at 7”

This meant the gunman had not pushed the pin inside.

The confusion had just begun to set in. Our town was lost in time. I knew soon this confusion would turn into a chaos. I had messed it up completely this time.

I sat on a side pavement and tried to recollect the incidents of my life.

*******

In the year 1961, 25 students were invited to National Physical Laboratory, London by the famous physician Dr. Morgan. He was hired by an unknown person to build a Time Machine - similar to the one shown in an English film released around that time. His employer wanted a machine that could be used to travel to the future or past.

Dr. Morgan never shared the details of the person who had hired him nor did he ever explain the why this machine was needed. Mr. Morgan only said it was a matter of life and death for him. He also revealed that he was given Fifty Thousand Pounds pounds to build this machine and would be rewarded with more money, once the machine is built.

“He has promised me, that if we succeed in making this Time Machine, he will make us Millionaires overnight. But if we fail, he might kill us” announced Mr. Morgan to his students.

“What if we make the machine with his money, use it on our own and never tell him?” I interrupted.

“He will not only take away the machine from you but will also take your life; so please don’t do this grave mistake at all” Mr. Morgan advised me.

The offer was indeed attractive but we all could sense that there was something fishy about this project. Thus only 5 out of 25 students agreed to be a part of this project. I was one of those five.

2 Years passed but we could not derive a theoretical hypothesis on time travel, let alone building a physical prototype of Time-Machine. None of us had any clue on how to start building such a Time-Machine that could transport a man to past and future.

One Sunday morning when we arrived at Dr. Morgan’s lab we were informed that Dr. Morgan and his family died in a mysterious road accident.

Without Dr. Morgan’s guidance, the project was jeopardized. We still had Fifty Thousand Pounds lying with us, completely unused. We didn’t know to whom we should return this money. We finally decided to divide the amount among ourselves and left London forever.

*******

I fell in love with a nurse whose name was Prateeksha. She had an unusual fondness for watches.

“I wish I could wear a new watch every week” she would often say.

I had 10,000 Pounds in my bank account; I bought the only Watch Manufacturing Company of our town. It wasn’t hard to make her fall in love with me afterwards. We met every Sunday and I gifted her new watch.

Prateeksha was always engaged in hospital. Time was the biggest constraint in her life. Even if she didn’t like, she had to report for duty early every morning and then work for long hours. Her busy routine also affected our relationship. Many times she had to cancel our day-outs due to extreme work in hospital.

One day, Prateeksha’s father fell seriously ill and she missed her train merely by two minutes. Her father stayed in some other town and the next train was only after 3 days. By the time she reached home, her father had already passed away.

“Only if I had a device that could hold the time by just two minutes, I would have been on that train and I would have been able to see my father live one last time” she cried.

That is when the idea of Time Machine stuck to me.

Every Quartz watch consists of a thin piece of Quartz that oscillates or vibrates when a certain amount of current is passed through it. The electronics inside the watch senses the constant vibration and streamline this in order to create one pulse every second. This pulse generated every second moves the Second’s hand of the watch. The gears inside the watch drive the Minute’s and Hour’s hand in the correct ratio.

My plan was to manipulate the electronics inside the watch to draw more power from the cell in the watch and make the second’s hand move as fast as I wanted.

For this, I made a Master Watch and linked the electronics of all the watches manufactured at my company to take signals from this master watch. Thus if I pulled out the pin of the Master Watch and rotated it forward, the electronics in all the watches linked to the Master Watch would draw more power from the cell, vibrate the Quartz faster and moved the time forward in proportion.

Similarly when I rotated the pin backwards, the electronics in all the watches in the town drew more power from the cell, vibrated the element faster but created a pulse in opposite direction which further moved Second’s hand in the anti-clockwise direction.

Those were the days when people still used manual watches that required coiling every morning. Quartz watches were beginning to get popular in our town. Primarily because of they did not require coiling.  And since my company was the only Watch manufacturing company in town, people in the town, gradually started buying the Quartz watches without knowing that I had manipulated the electronics to control the time.

Prateeksha was going to visit her mother. She was again late by at least 10 minutes. She was sure; she would miss the train again. I assured her, that nothing like that would happen this time.

I simply pushed the time back by 15 minutes in my master watch. Consequently all the watches in town, including the watch on the railway platform, moved back by 15 minutes. She boarded the train a clear 5 minutes before the train departed. She was happy.

Some days later we came to see a movie of her favourite actor. We had reached early by 30 minutes.

“I wish, somehow the time passes fast. I can’t wait any longer to get inside the cinema hall” She said hoping for some magic.  

The movie started within 5 minutes. All I had to do was move my Master Watch faster by 25 minutes. She was happy yet again.

During winter mornings when she felt lazy to get out of the warm bed, I would move the time back by an hour and the entire town would sleep for an extra hour that day. Whenever she was late to hospital, I changed the time to make sure she was on time. And every time we made love with each other, after every 30 minutes and I pushed the time back by 15 minutes.

“Is it not romantic that every time we make love time seems to slow down!!” she was totally unaware of the fact that the man lying next to her was controlling the time.

Of course I noted the time before I changed it and finally adjusted it back to normal late in the night-when everybody in the town would be asleep.

In due course of time, I became super confidant of the smart game I was playing with time in our town. I was convinced I would never be caught. And then a telegram came:

CONGRATS ON YOUR INVENTION. NOW REMEMBER MORGAN’S ADVICE.

*******

We were buying vegetables in the market today morning when a gun man with a mask on his face came from nowhere and pointed a gun at me. Prateeksha instantly jumped between me and the gun. She was shot right in the centre of her chest.

“Rush her to the hospital fast… she doesn’t have much time” shouted a man at me expecting me to help him lift her and carry her to the hospital. But I wasn’t listening.

My heart was trying to convince my mind that we could save her life by moving the time back. But for some reason my hands were fumbling and I couldn’t get hold of the pin of my Master Watch.

I untied the watch from my wrist and tried to hold the pin again. With my hands still fumbling, I pulled out the pin and moved back the time back.

“Lau… ” Prateeksha called my name one last time. The watch dropped from my hand and without caring about it, I ran towards her. By the time we reached hospital, she had already passed away.

Dr. Morgan had warned me that “He will not only take away the machine from you but will also take your life”

Prateeksha was my life and he took her away and machine… Wait, where is my watch? I was not tied around my wrist

I rushed out of the hospital to the spot of accident where I had dropped my watch. I searched around that area but the watch was missing. A hawker said the gun man returned and took the watch with him.

I remember I had forgotten to push the pin inside in hurry. I hoped the gun man had pushed the pin inside.

I stopped two strangers walking past me and asked, “Are your watches working?”

“No” one of them replied. “It had stopped working at 7 o’ clock today morning”

“Even my watch stopped working at 7 this morning” his companion pointed out to me. “But strangely, I remember seeing time at 9:00 and 10:15 today. I cannot understand how could it go back and stop at 7 on its own?”

A third stranger overheard the conversation and joined in “Even my watch was working fine. I saw time on my watch several times today. And then the time moved back and stopped at 7”

This meant the gunman had not pushed the pin inside. I had messed it up completely this time.

The confusion had just begun to set in. Our town was lost in time. I knew soon this confusion would turn into a chaos.

I sat on a side pavement and tried to recollect the incidents of my life.

Journey From Jasola

Blessed are those who do not have to travel from Gurgaon to Jasola every day. 

Those who travel are footiyas.

– Safal Mahajan, A footiya

                                         

Office      : Jasola, Delhi

Home      : Gurgaon, Haryana

Distance : 29.1 Kilometers

The Grid Line

It’s 6:30 PM by my watch and I climb on to my bike to go back home.

I have barely started moving and I already see a traffic jam at the intersection.

Carwaalas are trying to manoeuvre through deep potholes. Delhi Jal Board have dug up both sides of the road. Pedestrians are walking on road. Trucks carrying construction sand and stones are polluting the air with black smoke.

In the middle of all the chaos, Rikshawaalas are randomly coming in between the cars to find their way forward. Their rikshaw handles are rubbing against the cars stuck in traffic jam creating long scratches on the painted metal. Carwaalas are shouting abuses, but rikshawaalas don’t care. Yeh hai beech mein ghoosne waale footiye.

I somehow manage to reach Mathura road.

Lap 1: Mathura Road

There is a flyover at 100 meters. I should take the U-turn from under that flyover. I go straight under the flyover and take a U-turn.

I can see a traffic light. It is red. I am not stopping at this. I see a cut on my left. I take the left and enter service lane. Policewaalas have put a barricade on the service lane to teach a lesson to footiyas who act smart.

I turn and go back to the cut and re-enter the main road.

Traffic light turns green. There is a train running parallel to Mathura road on my left. Scenes from Dil Chahata hai flashes in my mind. I decide to race with the train. I accelerate 70.. 80.. 90.. Press hard brakes. There is a traffic light again. I curse my luck. Train wins the race.

Lap 2: Outer Ring Road

I take a left from Mathura road and climb up Modi Mill waala flyover. Who gave that name to this flyover? Surely some footiya.

I see a 6-lane road almost lying empty in front of me. Wow! I engage the highest gear and full throttle down the Modi Mill waala Flyover. Then climb up Kalkaji waala flyover in all gusto. I see an advertisement of my company’s car. I feel proud  to be working in this company as I reach on the top of the flyover.

Once on top I see a traffic jam starting exactly where the flyover ends. A temple constructed in the middle of the road makes the 6-lane road into a 2-lane road. But because of religious sentiments involved no government authority will demolish this temple. This spot has been witnessing daily traffic jam for a decade now. Aur aaj phir wahi footiyapa hai.

Cars, buses, trucks, autos are struggling to pass through the bottle neck. I try to steer through them driving my bike into every inch of free space available. I cross the bottle neck in less than 5 minutes.

Its 6-lanes again! Chalo traffic toh khatam hua

I speed up my bike again and reach Nehru Place waala flyover. There is another massive traffic jam waiting down the flyover.

A wise senior in my office once told me “delhi ke traffic jam ki chaabi hai, gaadi ko humesha left mein rakho”.

I take my bike to the left most lane and ride adjacent to foot path. Though I move slowly, but I keep moving unlike the vehicle on my right, that are stuck to their place.

I cross Chittranjan Park, Greater Kailash, Chirag Dilli.

I reach Panchsheel Colony and I am bored of travelling so slow. I see a cut on my left. I enter the service lane. Its empty. A sabziwaala at the cut greets me with a smile. I smile back at him. Dilliwaalas are so courteous. I ride on the empty service lane.

More than a kilometre later, I see a board that reads DEAD END.

I go back to the beginning and stop in front of the same sabziwaala. Footiye bata nahi sakta tha aage raasta band hai?

I enter the main road again and continue to move slowly till IIT Gate.

Lap 3: Aurobindo Marg

Its all about spotting Qutub Minar.

A two kilometre stretch that caters to traffic of four major malls of Delhi, three super speciality hospitals, a five star hotel, Mother’s international School, Aurobindo Ashram, Adhchini Village, IIT Delhi, NCERT Office, a showroom of Yamaha, Hero & Renault Cars, a world famous monument and above all a CNG gas station. Did I mention about the traffic going to Gurgaon?

Town planners added icing on the top by installing 3 traffic lights of 90 seconds each on this road.

Stuck in a pathetic traffic jam with nowhere else to go, I remove my helmet to breathe free. It is already wet with my sweat.

I see a driver of an ambulance blowing horn frantically but there is not even an inch to move.

A carwaala next to me rolls down his window and says “Yeh toh saala roz ka tanta hai.. pata nahi kaun planning karta hai?”

Footiya karte hai uncleji.

After crawling for 20 minutes I see a glimpse of the world famous Qutub Minar. The monument marks the end of this road (and the torture). I turn ON my left indicator and turn to Anuvrat Marg.

Lap 3: Anuvrat Marg

I turn ON my right indicator as the road turns naturally towards right. I see a traffic light. Surprisingly all three lights - red, yellow and green – are switched ON at the same time. Confused, I stop at the light.

Rukh mat footiye, yeh lights khraab hai  shouts the man from the car behind me. He keeps blowing horn until I move. Horn maarna band kar footiye.

I jump the traffic light.

I turn ON my right indicator again as the road naturally turns towards right again. I see a traffic light again. All three lights - red, yellow and green – are switched ON at the same time again. Deja vu! I stop again at the light.

Abe footiye chal na, tu rukhta kyun hai? shouts the same man. His car is still behind me. I jump the traffic light yet again.

I turn ON my left indicator as the road now turns naturally towards left. I see another traffic light. But this time none of the three lights are working. I look into my rear mirrors if that man is still behind, he is not. 

Oh my God, he is on my left! He rolls down his window to warn me. Footiye, iss waali mein rukiyo,dekh saamne thulla khada hai.

I stop and wait for the signal from traffic police waala.

I notice a massive traffic jam just 100 meters ahead of me. A speeding metro passes by my right into a huge station that reads CHATTARPUR.

Lap 4: Mehrauli-Gurgaon Road

Did I die? I pinch myself. No I am alive.

I was riding normally on the MG Road when a speeding Toyota Fortuner overtook me from left. I was only millimetre away from being thrown away by SUV. For a second my entire life flashed before my eyes. Yeh left se overtake karne waale footiye.. kabhi nahi sudhrenge

I regain my composure and start riding again. There are street lights on MG Road but none of them are functional. The only source of light is my bike’s headlight and night’s moonlight.

The road is empty and well tarred. Even a speed of 60 km/hour seems slow to me. The traffic signs on the road side prescribe the maximum speed limit of 80. I increase my speed to 95 km/h.

I suddenly turn blind, everything is white in front of me. I think there is a car speeding towards me. Am I on the wrong side? No I am not. The carwaala is driving on the wrong side of the road.

I slow down by bike, but the carwaala doesn’t. Accident is imminent. I bring my bike to a complete halt and frantically wave my hands signalling the carwaala to stop. A Mahindra Scorpio stops just centimetres away from my bike’s front tyre. A gujjar rolls down his window and shout. Footiye raaste se hat warna lappad khayega mere haath.

I give way to the Scorpio. Saale ulte chalne waale aur high beam use karne waale footiye.

I start yet again, this time very carefully. Now I know MG Road belongs to Footiyas who own SUV. I reach Gurgaon border with utmost care and constant humiliation of a band of Scorpio, Bolero, Fortuner waalas shouting throughout my journey abe footiye bail gaadi chala raha hai?

Lap 5: Gurgaon

I enter Gurgaon and take a U-turn for DLF Phase 3. I know I am only two minutes away from my home. Or maybe 5 or may be 10… 15?

Two carwaala are fighting in the middle of the road. Seems like one of them has accidently smashed the other one’s taillights. A traffic jam has started piling up because of their fight. 

Abe side mein gaadi karke lad lo yaar. Beech sadak par ladne waale Footiye.

But I need to reach home. I take my bike inside a petrol pump and exit from the other gate. I climb up on a footpath. Footiye yeh footpath hai chalne ke liye, sadak nahi  shouts an aunty.

I run my bike on empty plots of land, inside rainwater drain, on the heap of sand near a construction site. Dogs chase me as I ran my bike over their tail. Yeh footiye kutte.

Victory Lap

Its 9 PM and I reach home. I need to open the gate. I find it difficult to get off the bike. My crotch is frozen. I walk toward gate in the frozen position. I am looking like an alphabet Y turned upside down.

Two pretty girls out for a night walk see me walking like that and giggle. Hema woh dekh, footiya kaise chal raha hai.

Mockery of A Human Life

If the king is careless the subjects too will care for nothing. As the king is, so will be subjects. 

- Chanakya Neeti, Chapter 13, Verse 7

I was sitting and working in office when there was a beep in my phone signalling there is Breaking News in my mobile app.

An AAP supporter had fallen off a tree during a farmer’s rally in Delhi.

I opened the website on desktop to read the news in detail. The website reported that an AAP supporter from Rajasthan had fallen off a tree at a rally. He was being rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment.

I took this news as ‘just another mishap’ and closed the browser. This happened in the afternoon.

By the time I reached home in the evening this ‘just another mishap’ had turned into a national tragedy. The news channels reported that the person who had climbed up the tree was actually a distressed farmer whose crops had failed due to unseasonal rain and the accident, about which I read in the morning, was actually a suicide. The farmer didn't have anything left to feed his children.

From nothing in the afternoon to everything by evening, this incident can very well be used as a measure to ascertain the value of a human life in India. It exposes the basic nature of every Indian-the ruling class (our politicians) and the ruled ones (the public servants, media and the otherwise common man). This incident shows how everyone in our country is constantly looking for fame at the cost of the other’s sacrifice and desperate to prove himself/herself innocent of any wrong doing.

As I tried to follow every bit of news related to this incident, following is what I could infer about the sequence of incidents that occurred on that fateful day.

A dhoti and turban clad man, identified as Gajendra Singh Kalyanwat, climbed up a tree at an Aam Aadmi Party’s Farmer Rally at Jantar Mantar, Delhi. The rally was organised to protest against the new Land Bill being introduced by the ruling BJP in the parliament.

People who noticed him climbing up the tree did not find it uncommon as photographers and protesters often climb up trees at such huge gatherings. The man reportedly did some antics on the tree for some time and hurled abuses at politicians while media, people and policeman cheered and took photographs of his.

An AAP leader on the VIP dais noticed him and requested him to come down. He asked people on the ground to bring the gentleman down.

Thereafter something went wrong and this man was entangled in the noose he had put around his neck for some reason (I say some reason because newspaper and media reported that many people in the crowd dared him to tighten it. But almost everyone suggested that it was part of his antics because he was clearly holding on to a branch and his left leg rested on another branch; you don’t secure yourself so nicely if you want to suicide).

Next, AAP supporters at the rally tried to save him and remove the noose around his neck. The man fell on the ground. AAP workers rushed him to a nearby hospital. He was breathing till then. A suicide note was found near the tree but the family of deceased says that it was not his handwriting (This is still an unsolved mystery).

A mishap like this is not uncommon in rallies. Unaware of the fact that Doctors at the hospital declared him “brought dead”, AAP leaders continue to make their intended speeches.

News spread fast and stories are cooked up faster. In no time the picture and suicide note of farmer was all over the internet. And out of habit, people on internet wasted no time in believing and sharing the story just because there was a picture of a man hanging from his neck next to it. Political parties don’t waste their time either in washing their hands of responsibilities.

BJP, against whom the farmer rally was organised in Delhi accused the organisers themselves for not doing enough to save the farmer who was “attempting suicide” in front of their eyes. They questioned - why didn't AAP stop the rally? Why did Arvind Kejriwal continue to sit on dais instead of saving the farmer? à Dear BJP, Arvind Kejriwal isn’t a Spider-man.

AAP continued with their speech unaware of the development at the hospital where the farmer was taken. They were caught unaware (just like me in the evening after coming from the office) when the opposition hurled abuses at them. They succumbed under pressure and screamed sabotage. They blamed their bête noire, Delhi Police for not doing enough to save the man.

On the other hand Congress (that neither rules state nor country) held Prime Minister and Chief Minister responsible for farmer’s death. They demanded an FIR to be filed against both of them. Rahul Gandhi visited the hospital where the dead man’s autopsy was being performed (Why? Is he a Post Mortem specialist?) These are the stuffs Rahul Gandhi jokes are made of.

No one really cared to find out what the truth was. They only tried to wash their hands off responsibility of suicide of a man that was actually an accident.

As Chanakya puts it in his Chanakya Neeti, if the king is sinful then the subjects would have no hesitation in committing sins. Just because the ones who rule us only point fingers at other and try to gain personal benefits out of a sad incident, the ones who are ruled emulate the same behaviour.

When asked, Delhi Police (who are otherwise ‘With you, for you, always) pointed fingers at AAP workers. They claimed that the supporters of Aam Aadmi Party didn't let them save the man! They further went on to use their discretionary powers and registered an FIR against these supporters under IPC section 186 for obstructing public servant in discharging duties. They blamed Aam Aadmi Party for flouting the rules by bringing more people at the premises than allowed.

Media on the other hand used this sad incident to gain personal benefits. Even though it was clearly evident to a person like me, who was sitting in his office and tracking the incidents though his cell phone that this was merely an accident; media that was present at the rally portrayed this incident as a suspected suicide (As per analysts with doctorates in mathematics, Suicide gets television media more TRPs than Accidents).

No news channel showed video of his antics. Instead they kept playing his suicide, on loop, for several hours. And then senior and respected journalist unnecessarily argued during their prime time news debates as why AAP workers and constables of the Delhi Police were laughing at the man who hanged himself. They termed them as inhuman.

Newspapers, the next day morning carried pictures of “Suicide by a Distressed Farmer” on front pages while the facts like the farmer had no intention to die, he was supposed to meet his relatives later during that evening, he wasn't distressed, he owned 10 acres of gooseberry orchard and teak plantation, he wanted to join politics, he was popular in his neighbourhood for such antic, etc were reported in the lesser important 3^rd and 4^th page of the newspaper.

Bloggers on internet and Newspaper columnist dug old papers and articles on net to tell horrific tales of farmer’s suicide in India. They highlighted how successive governments have been ignorant of the farmer’s cause. They suggested ways to improve conditions of the farmers.

General public visited Jantar Mantar the next day and posed selfie in front of the tree where Gajendra committed suicide. Traffic in Delhi came to standstill on Friday evening because of the protests by various NGOs and farmer organisations.

And then on Saturday, the Nepal earthquake happened.

BJP sent troops to Nepal, AAP sent food material, Congress assured people of Nepal of full support, media started highlighting the sufferings of Nepalese, newspaper columnist & bloggers wrote article on net to tell horrific stories of earthquakes and NGOs started protesting to improve housing laws in Delhi lest the city gets reduced to rubble if earthquake of a similar magnitude strikes Delhi....

…And the farmer whose death was actually an accident, but portrayed as a suicide, was suddenly killed by everyone; because apart from pointing fingers at others and gain personal benefits, there is another thing that we Indians want all the time - an undying thirst for fame and the fame is where the biggest story of that day is.

What a mockery of a human life!