A Fine Balance

by Rohinton Mistry

They are so rich in foreign countries, they can afford to fear all kinds of silly things.”

What an unreliable thing is time—when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl’s hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair.” He sighed and smiled sadly. “But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.”

“After all, our lives are but a sequence of accidents—a clanking chain of chance events. A string of choices, casual or deliberate, which add up to that one big calamity we call life.”