The fingers glided over the keys of that uneven keyboard and a stream of letters appeared on that white screen. He had been doing this for the last few days perhaps making an attempt to beget a creative literary piece. But his relentless efforts and his old ingeniousness had beguiled him……or hadn't been generous enough to give his thoughts a window……the window of words. He had been scavenging through every obscure corner of his brain to scrape out something productive but alas…all his efforts had been rendered futile!!
He sauntered around in his little room puffing out small rings of smoke from his cigar and reflecting upon everything that he could recollect and could submit his thoughts to those keys which arrayed the keyboard. Distressed by his futility, he dropped himself on a big couch and gazed at the massive historic clock that hung from an ancient nail embedded in the east wall. The red of the retreating sun which peered through the thin parallel stretches of the clouds tinged the room with its warm shade and illuminated the ceaseless time piece. But was it really ceaseless????
It had never stopped since he had known that he was in senses and that treasured clock had been an epitome of constancy and perfection. This ancient object of grandeur had always been revered and preserved because of its faithfulness and precision…..and his still eyes gazed vigilantly from their hollow shelter. He had been making comparisons between the relentlessly scurrying time and his insipid life. And he was suddenly struck with awe. A sudden trepidation....and a fear grappled him that it was the time that measured his life. It was not just the time either; rather it was the time piece that hung on that east wall. He could see the clock ticking away…..but not with its usual pace. The hands pinioned to a massive brass nail seemed to drag themselves sluggishly in that huge hollow chamber ….as if they would stop the next moment. His fears got exacerbated. He sat straight on his couch alarmed and perplexed…..waiting for the last minute when he would perish with the dying time!!!
He sat dumbstruck with horror and the clock seemed to run out of life….ticking slower and slower with each passing moment. There was a dreadful silence…except the clatter of a swift galloping heart and the clickety-click of the dying clock. All of a sudden a lady pushed in through the closed door and interrupted the silent cacophony. She pushed the half dead man with mild shudder and he woke up startled from his deep slumber. The lady pressed on his forehead a tender kiss….and handed him a cup of tea and departed from the room. He briskly made his way towards his unfinished task and made a dramatic narration of this fearsome reverie. It was an opus which portrayed the joy of life that filled the gap in between the brackets of birth and death. The concluding lines of the piece read ‘I receded away with the dying time. And I was dead!!!’
The next morning the lady entered into the little room and found him lying supine on his couch still, cold and dead. There was the finished piece of his last work and the dead clock gazing at the silent corpse.