Should Time Go Past or Pause?

I have always battled with time. If you were to ask my colleagues or friends what area I needed to improve for my professional development, they would invariably say my timekeeping. I have known this for years. I do not feel good about it, yet I do not want to apologise. The fact is that I don’t want to be the custodian of time and neither do I want to be its slave. And it is for that reason that I always find some reason to prioritise other options just to defeat time. But can time be ever defeated?

Time, in its relentless flow, shapes our lives in ways we can scarcely comprehend. It’s a force that brings change, growth, healing, and, on occasion, heartache. The question of whether time should march forward or come to a standstill is one that invites reflection on our personal experiences, hopes, and even regrets. Would we benefit from a world where time pauses, allowing us to cherish moments for as long as we wish, or is the steady progression of time the secret to our growth and resilience?

I want to pause time when the days are good. When my 96-year-old mother, who lives with me, says that she is feeling good and energetic, I want that day to freeze and not roll over to another day because I do not know what tomorrow will hold. This is one of those occasions when I pray for the status quo, although my declared mission is to bring change.

On the one hand, the idea of pausing time is appealing, especially in moments of joy and fulfilment. Think of times spent with loved ones, the milestones we reach, and the simple pleasures of life — a sunset, a heartfelt conversation, a victory hard-won. In a paused world, we could savour these moments, making them last for as long as we desire. Pausing time could allow us to reflect deeply, make better choices, or ease the pain that sometimes arises when time moves too fast. Imagine a situation where we’re on the brink of an important decision; pressing pause could offer us clarity and insight that often feels elusive in the rush of daily life.

However, would a world where time pauses lose some of its magic? Much of life’s beauty comes from its transience, from the fact that each moment is fleeting and unique. Moments, whether joyous or challenging, accumulate into experiences that shape us. Time passing teaches us resilience, patience, and empathy; it allows us to witness the natural progression of our lives and the lives of others. Challenges faced and overcome contribute to our strength, and sometimes, it’s only with the benefit of hindsight that we understand the true value of a particular period in our lives.

I want time to go past quickly when I am in a sticky situation because of outcomes of wrong decisions, lack of insight and foresight and synchronicity with others’ views and plans. I want then for time to forge forward and become another day. I don’t need space to lick my wounds and believe that surgeries need to happen and recovery time should begin in a different setting.

Moreover, time’s movement offers a promise of healing and growth. Difficult moments — grief, failure, disappointment — feel unbearable at first, but with time, the intensity of these feelings diminishes. Time allows us to learn, adapt, and find peace. If we had the option to pause time, would we risk freezing in our pain or frustration, unable to find a path forward?

The question here is, is time my friend or enemy? The ageing lines on my face are inconsequential, and so are diminishing wealth and energy. I don’t want to hold on to the youth or wealth of the past, but I do want to hold on to the people and beings I love.

My 9-year-old dog, who I rescued from the streets when he was just a couple of months old, has given me a few lessons on hours, days and months of the calendar, things that I was extremely dismissive of in the past. About two years ago Thambuchetty developed epilepsy. This was not one of those once-in-a-while seizure attacks. This was a regular, quite severe and patterned episode of seizures. He has been to the best veterinary neurosurgeons, homoeopaths and even reiki healing. But nothing has been able to stall his patterned seizures, let alone eradicate them. He has seizures at least once a week. So here I am, a person who didn’t have a calendar or maintain a diary, has been forced to follow charts to ensure that all his medicines are administered within a stipulated time gap.

I had always prioritised work above personal things, and when I needed to meet a donor, I would fix the time without thinking twice. But today, I have to look at Thambuchetty’s register and find out if the appointment date is in any of his danger zone dates. And when he gets a seizure, I have to be prepared for another cluster either within 6 hours, 12 hours or 24 hours. Each ticking of the clock has become very important for me today. It is very important for someone to stay at home to keep an eye on my mother and my dog. I have often thought that time is crippling me with a vengeance with schedules and calendars.

In the end, perhaps the best answer lies in accepting that time’s progression is essential. While there may be moments when we wish it would slow down or halt altogether, we find purpose and perspective in the steady ticking forward. Rather than seeking to pause or speed up time, we might find greater satisfaction in embracing each moment as it comes — living fully, loving deeply, and learning continuously. The present, after all, is the only moment we truly possess, and when we treat it as a gift, we may discover that time’s pace is exactly as it should be.

I think it is important to carve out the lessons learnt from every event in our calendar. Thambuchetty is persistently teaching me to be less irreverent of time, and my mother is teaching me that time, like the tide, waits for no man.