The man of all times!

The room was tiny and dimly lit. There was barely enough space for the two of us. The man sitting on the chair opposite to that of mine looked intently upon the object in his hands. The curiosity in his eyes was palpable. He seemed to be in a state of meditative calm; body and mind focused on a single point amidst his fingers. Except for his occasional tilting of head, he looked like a piece of art carved in wax, completely motionless.

Jobless as I was, I began exploring the little space where we sat facing each other. In looks it was similar to an old attic, tightly packed with this and that, some of which could date back to the early days of this building.  The walls on all sides were full of time tellers, big and small. It looked like an interesting collection to me. Each one had a mark of a distinctive time period, a look that explained the fashion of the time. It all looked happy; smiling faces. Just a meter above His head was an orange-light filament bulb that flickered now and then. It was the primary source of light in this otherwise dark room. It was what helped the man do his work which seemed to be his first love for there was so much of passion in his eyes, affection in his approach and perfection in his movements. Though it was my first visit to this little place, its existence has definitely not missed my eyes. I have noticed this man before, sitting in an interior corner, often engaged in the work that he lovingly does; and very often have I wondered how he has managed to make living out of it, given the confinements of his establishment. Before I could venture my imagination further, he moved his hands towards the table that lay between us, an unanticipated movement that cut my thoughts short. The table was a wooden one on which he had his tools set. There were nearly a hundred of them, in varied sizes and shapes. I could not identify at least one though I shall swear there was something that looked like a tiny hammer. He took one from the right corner and did something to the object in his hand, replacing a round-shaped stainless steel piece which he had earlier removed for the convenience of his work.

The man. He must be in his early forties, fair and short with weary eyes. There was a magnifying glass attached to his left eye, to get a closer look at the things he dealt with. There was something in his air that would remind you of a distant relative or a friendly neighbor. After what seemed like a good few minutes, he looked up, smiled, and handed over to me my new watch, a gift from my father. It was a little too big for my small wrist, but thanks to this man who helped me with the size and some corrections in the timing. Taking the twenty rupee note from my hand, he commented, “Ladies’ watches these days look like that of men’s, big and bold. I guess this is the trend now.” I said nothing but smiled at the man who had been through the trends of all times.