bhaskar saikia

There’s a quiet presence in every room, on every wrist, and in every passing moment: the clock.

It doesn’t boast. It doesn’t pause. It just ticks—steady, consistent, indifferent. A reminder that time moves forward, whether we’re ready or not.

Time is the great equalizer. It doesn’t discriminate between kings and beggars, the wise and the foolish, the young and the old. Everyone gets the same 24 hours in a day. No one can buy more of it, store it for later, or rewind it once spent. Yet, everyone uses it differently.

Some chase it, others waste it. Some fear it, while others treasure it. For one person, an hour might mean a hurried meal before a night shift. For another, it might be a quiet evening with a book, or a rush through traffic to reach a deadline. Same hour, different lives.

We say, “I don’t have time,” but the truth is: we make time—for what we value, for what matters to us. Time, then, becomes more than just a number. It becomes a mirror reflecting our priorities.

But time also humbles. It reminds us of our impermanence. Flowers bloom and wilt. Seasons come and go. People enter and exit our lives, often without warning. Time is not cruel—it’s just honest. It doesn’t stop for love, grief, or regret.

Yet, therein lies the beauty.

Because time is finite, every moment matters more. A conversation with a friend, a walk under the evening sky, a project you’ve been putting off—these aren’t just tasks or events; they’re fragments of your life, ticking away with the rhythm of the clock.

So what do we do with this gift?

We honour it. Not by rushing or hoarding minutes, but by being present. By understanding that while the clock ticks for all, how we live between those ticks is entirely up to us.

Because in the end, it’s not about how much time we had. It’s about how deeply we lived it.