Wednesday, 8 October 2014

That Orange Watch...


"There are times when silence has the loudest voice" 

Time pieces are my dad’s passion. He has an awesome collection of watches and timepieces. 


I think I was ten that time. He came home, he was very happy. He opened a box, and took out a watch. It had an orange transparent cover. I could see all the screws and nuts inside, the tiny springs and the various sizes of wheels which were moving with my heartbeats. He showed it to my mother. His friend got it from abroad on his request; A very rare collection in those times. I wanted to see it, but since he was showing something to my mother, I was asked to wait. My patience was not with me. I wanted it badly. To add to my miseries, my younger brother, who was a toddler that time came and climbed up in my father’s lap. He was attracted to the bright orange colour and extended his hand, and my dad, out of love, tied it on his hand. That was it! I was furious. How could he do this to me? 


"No one loves me!" I shouted and stomped out of room. 

Within a few minutes, my brother came to me. He was holding the watch. He smiled and gave it to me. The furious me! I took the watch and slammed it hard on the floor. The watch shattered. It was made up of glass! The glass, screws, springs, wheels were everywhere. I was pale. I was sure it was not going to be good for me. So I ran and hid behind my grand mother. Even slept there, I was scared the next morning. As I knew, the moment I would get near them, it would be bad, really bad. 


But to my surprise neither mom, nor dad said a word to me. Though I felt bad but was somewhere relieved, that they have not taken it too seriously. I never touched the topic, assumed they must have thrown the pieces and the issue. 

Last year, I visited my parents. I was all set to go with my dad somewhere, when he asked me to get a watch from his cupboard as he forgot to take one out. 


I opened his drawer and saw the timeless collection of watches. I took out the watch he asked me to and was about to close the drawer when a box caught my attention. It was very familiar. Out of curiosity, I opened the box and saw those shattered pieces of that orange watch. I think every piece they were able to pick from the floor that day was in that box. I shivered. I felt a hard kick deep inside. I cannot explain that feeling. He has kept it all those years! Is it a souvenir he has kept to remind him of the bad temper of her daughter or the broken dream which he could never wear? 


Every piece pierced me deep inside, though still I don’t have courage to ask him, why he has kept those pieces with him? A bigger question that gripped my mind is, though I know he has forgiven me, but will I be able to forgive myself for this ever?