People watching is time watching. Let me explain how. Today morning, I saw a man walk down the service lane next to the NH8 near the airport. High waist pants, really long sleeved shirts and a receding hairline. The sun was extremely strong this morning. He looked hassled.
Point being he looked from another time. I recently saw a young nephew who got a haircut that would have been odd in my time. Nothing on the sides and the back and suddenly a crop at top. Apparently, it’s a rage. He is from another time.
Most folks at my office wear similar shirts on weekdays, t shirts on the weekend, talk about similar things. I prefer short kurtas to tshirts on Fridays. I feel as if I am from another time. Not the linear before and after one, but a more sideways, little alleyway of time.
At airport, I look less at people, more at their luggage. The 360 wheels fancy me, I am yet to own one. Then there are people who travel with bags from decades back. It’s not just the bags, it’s the hair and the clothes and the pace at which they walk and the boiled tea that they insist on having.
People are not just people. People are little pockets of time. Puddles. When you meet them, you jump from one puddle to another. And, that’s why meeting people takes so much energy because time travel is taxing.