Racing against time | Broadside

Every month, I wait until the very last minute to write this column. Every day, I wait until the very last minute to leave home for an appointment. When I walk into class late, I slink in and as inconspicuously and quietly as possible, slide into a chair, trying to catch my breath. Even when I have lots of time, I somehow manage to be a few minutes late. Julia, an American, asked me why and I waved it off saying it was a Nepali thing, that we never bothered so much about time.

"I envy that," she said, "the way most Asians don't run on clock."

I smiled as if it was something to be proud of, perfectly aware that I wished I could be more conscientious about time. Also aware that the broadsweeping generalisation didn't really apply; not all Asians are so irreverent of time. I don't really enjoy being late because sometimes when you slink into class, you have no idea what has happened before and you have to sit there with a befuddled brain trying to figure out what's going on.

There have been times when I've made the effort to go early or right on time and it made things less stressful. Like when I went to get my license renewed. Except they made me come back three times because of one thing or the other and I sat there on the wooden bench practicing fuming in case they asked me to return again. Julia kept me company, practicing her evil laughter and trying to get me to decide which was more evil-sounding. That is, until the lady at the counter said she really hoped we wouldn't return. We said we hoped we didn't have to too.

Another time, I decided to go early to class. I woke up, ate breakfast (which I otherwise skip from trying to hurry), packed my bags, checked the weather, and left walking leisurely, taking note of the newly fallen snow, how the ice glittered on grass and crunched underfoot and the snow fell on the branches giving the illusion that they were straining toward the sky. The air was crisp and cold and I felt my nose growing red, the wind stinging my face. But I wasn't going to let that get in the way. I entered campus, smiled at strangers, took the turn to my department building, climbed the staircase and walked into class. The room was empty. I was early. So I sat down and waited. Five minutes passed, then 10. I had come early but why was everyone else late? I sat and waited for 10 to be 15 then called up Julia.

"Go home. Class is cancelled," she said, voice still groggy from sleep.

So that was that. I didn't notice a thing on the way back.

I've let habits run its course and returned to racing against time, battling Murphy's Law and every other obstacle that gets in the way of everyday. Some days, I'm lucky and get to places on time. Other days, I slink in as inconspicuously and quietly as possible, trying to catch my breath and make sense of what's going on. My friends know by now to give me a five to 10-minute leeway at least. The other day, Julia sat in the parking lot waiting for me. I could hear her cackling from a mile away.

"You late again," she said.

"It's a Nepali thing," I replied. She laughed one of her evil laughters and I could tell she'd been practicing but hadn't got it right yet.

Abha Eli Phoboo was the editor of WAVE from 2005-2006. She can be contacted at abhaeli[at]gmail.com.