ABOUT SAURABH DUDEJA
Saurabh Dudeja, dubbed as Youngest Youth Icon by Infibeam and Life-Transforming Author by Homeshop18, was born on 10th September 1989.
Master of Time! ...Time Corridor - A Short Story
Saurabh Dudeja was known in his town as the man who was always late. He missed trains, arrived at work breathless, and often forgot birthdays of people he loved. His room was a scatter of half-written notes, alarm clocks that never rang, and books left unfinished.
One evening, as he rushed through the market to catch a bus he was already late for, his eyes fell on an old shop squeezed between two tall buildings. Its signboard read: “The Clockmaker – Master of Time.”
Curious, Saurabh stepped inside. The shop smelled of oil and wood polish. Hundreds of clocks ticked in harmony, each one precise and beautiful. Behind the counter stood an elderly man with silver hair and calm eyes.
“You seem hurried,” the clockmaker said, adjusting the hands of a pendulum clock.
“I always am,” Saurabh sighed. “Time slips away from me no matter what I do.”
The old man studied him for a moment. Then he placed a small pocket watch on the counter. Its face was simple, but its hands moved with a smooth elegance.
“This is not an ordinary watch,” the clockmaker said. “It will not give you more hours in a day. But it will remind you where your hours go.”
Saurabh laughed nervously. “What does that even mean?”
“Wear it for seven days,” the man replied. “Note how you use your time. Then return to me.”
Saurabh agreed, half amused and half desperate.
*****
The first day, the watch chimed softly whenever Saurabh wasted time scrolling through his phone. By noon, he realized he had already lost two hours. On the second day, it chimed when he procrastinated at work. By the third, it rang when he lingered too long in meaningless chatter.
Slowly, Saurabh began to notice patterns. He was not short of time—he was careless with it. The watch did not scold him, it merely reminded him: Every choice costs minutes you never get back.
One evening, as he rushed through the market to catch a bus he was already late for, his eyes fell on an old shop squeezed between two tall buildings. Its signboard read: “The Clockmaker – Master of Time.”
Curious, Saurabh stepped inside. The shop smelled of oil and wood polish. Hundreds of clocks ticked in harmony, each one precise and beautiful. Behind the counter stood an elderly man with silver hair and calm eyes.
“You seem hurried,” the clockmaker said, adjusting the hands of a pendulum clock.
“I always am,” Saurabh sighed. “Time slips away from me no matter what I do.”
The old man studied him for a moment. Then he placed a small pocket watch on the counter. Its face was simple, but its hands moved with a smooth elegance.
“This is not an ordinary watch,” the clockmaker said. “It will not give you more hours in a day. But it will remind you where your hours go.”
Saurabh laughed nervously. “What does that even mean?”
“Wear it for seven days,” the man replied. “Note how you use your time. Then return to me.”
Saurabh agreed, half amused and half desperate.
*****
The first day, the watch chimed softly whenever Saurabh wasted time scrolling through his phone. By noon, he realized he had already lost two hours. On the second day, it chimed when he procrastinated at work. By the third, it rang when he lingered too long in meaningless chatter.
Slowly, Saurabh began to notice patterns. He was not short of time—he was careless with it. The watch did not scold him, it merely reminded him: Every choice costs minutes you never get back.
By the fifth day, Saurabh started planning ahead. He made a small list in the morning—three important tasks he must finish before anything else. The watch stayed quiet, and for the first time, he felt peace instead of panic.
On the seventh day, Saurabh returned to the clockmaker. “I understand now,” he said. “It’s not time that slips away—it’s me who lets it.”
The old man smiled. “Time is the fairest gift. Everyone receives the same twenty-four hours. What separates people is how they spend them.”
Saurabh offered to pay for the watch, but the clockmaker shook his head. “You no longer need it. The lesson is yours to keep.”
Saurabh walked out, lighter than he had in years. He missed no more buses that week, finished his work on time, and even surprised his mother with a birthday call.
From then on, whenever he felt the familiar rush of chaos, he remembered the quiet chiming of the pocket watch and asked himself:
“Am I spending time, or wasting it?”
On the seventh day, Saurabh returned to the clockmaker. “I understand now,” he said. “It’s not time that slips away—it’s me who lets it.”
The old man smiled. “Time is the fairest gift. Everyone receives the same twenty-four hours. What separates people is how they spend them.”
Saurabh offered to pay for the watch, but the clockmaker shook his head. “You no longer need it. The lesson is yours to keep.”
Saurabh walked out, lighter than he had in years. He missed no more buses that week, finished his work on time, and even surprised his mother with a birthday call.
From then on, whenever he felt the familiar rush of chaos, he remembered the quiet chiming of the pocket watch and asked himself:
“Am I spending time, or wasting it?”