Blue Dial

I check my geometry box once again before getting on the rickshaw. Okay, I haven't forgotten anything. Time to leave. Chalo bhaiyya. "You have forgotten your watch," my mom shouts from the balcony. I turn back and run upstairs. I am in the sixth grade, and my half-yearly exams are going on. The watch has a dark blue dial and a plastic blue strap. It's too ugly to wear. My dad bought it the day before my exams started. I wanted the digital one, but I don’t complain. He has promised to buy me a good watch next year. If I score well in exams, that is. I promise to score well. Both of us forget our promises with time. That's how promises work. I keep the watch in my geometry box. Two days later I will tear apart its straps so that a) I don’t have to wear it and b) It becomes easier to put it in the geometry box. A few days later, I lose the dial as well. This was my first watch.

There used to be a repair shop for watches where I’d go with my mother every nine to ten months. It was a small shop. An old man who refused to age would fix the two-three watches that we had. Every year, we used to go to him with the same watches and the same defects. They either needed strap replacement, new batteries, or cleaning. The old man would see them and fix them in a jiffy. As if he was waiting for them. As if he knew these watches and what they were up to. A couple of years back, when I went to Delhi, I stopped near his shop. His shop was replaced by a juice shop. I drank a glass of juice and came back.

I am walking in Connaught Place with my girlfriend (now wife). We do this often, so often that the place feels like home. In one of these walks, she asks me if I’d like a watch as my birthday gift. I say I don't wear watches.

"Everyone wears watches."

"No."

"Yes."

"Okay, get me a good one."

I don't know what's a good one. I lost interest in watches the day I got heavily scolded for tearing apart the straps of my first watch.

"Don't get me a digital one; kids wear it. You know this reminds me of the time when I tore apart my watch because I wanted a digital one, and now I am asking you to not get me a digital one. Funny how things change, no?"

"Sorry, were you saying something?"

"I said I don’t like watches, don’t get me a watch."

She gets me a watch anyway. I like the gesture but don't like the watch that much. It’s too big. I wear it a couple of times and then keep it in my drawer. It travels with me in the same drawer to Mumbai. There I change its location and keep it in the folder where I keep my passport. It travels with me outside India. Unintentionally. It must’ve shown the wrong time there. I am in Bengaluru right now. I don’t know if it’s working anymore. I get up to check if it’s working or not. It’s not there. I find an old phone instead. I open it and start checking pics before finally coming back to my bed.

I am meeting a cricketer for some work. He is wearing an expensive watch, and everyone around him is discussing that expensive watch. It is that expensive. I don’t join the conversation because I don’t know how to. The most expensive watch I have ever owned is the one I am wearing right now. Apple watch. It was a wedding gift from my wife. It even counted the steps I took during the pheras. I wanted to do a couple of more rounds to close the rings, but the pandit interrupted. Anyway, I ask the cricketer if his watch shows step counts. He said he has hired a person for that. We move on to the set. The shot is ready, and my 5000 steps for the day are also done.

Until recently, I have always held an irrational grudge against life for not letting me buy a watch for myself. All the watches I have are the ones that are gifted to me. Metaphorically, it feels like I have been borrowing time all my life. But a few days back, I decided to change this. I have promised myself to buy a good watch for this birthday. The one that just shows time and doesn't track fitness. One that I can show off at a party. One that isn’t too big or too blue or too apple. One that I’d wear all day. One that’d require repairing every 9-10 months. One that’d help me find an unaging old man again. That way, I can at least have one more human interaction. I feel like that should also be a ring in our smartwatches: how many new people did you meet this week? Meet two at least to close the ring. Maybe then we would all stop wearing smartwatches because the results would be too depressing as the rings will never close.