Are you a thief of time?

M. Gautham Machaiah

Many years ago, a well known philosopher was invited by one of India’s most revered spiritual leaders, the late Sri Sathya Sai Baba to lecture the students at Brindavan, his abode at Whitefield on the outskirts of Bangalore. The speaker had not arrived and Baba was already looking alarmed though it was just two minutes past the scheduled time.

Seeing Sai Baba anxiously waiting for him at the door, the perplexed philosopher profusely apologised: “Kindly excuse me Swami; I am late by two minutes.” But the god man responded with a straight face: “You are 80 minutes late.”

The speaker protested, “I am only two minutes late Swami. My lecture was at 11 am and I have arrived at 11.02 am.” To which, Sai Baba replied: “There are 40 students in the class. You have taken away two minutes of each of them and that means you have wasted 80 minutes.” What a profound statement!

Sometime ago, I was at dinner with an Australian Chairman of a multi-national company, who drew my attention to the “two minute syndrome.” The words “two minutes” have become a figure of speech in India. When somebody says: “I will be there in two minutes”, it could range from anywhere between two minutes and 20 minutes, if not more. For some reason, we have come to believe that time is the most expendable resource.

Two minutes is quite a lot of time, as I realised at Sri Ramakrishna Vidyashala, Mysore, where I studied. We could never afford to be even a second late, forget two minutes: 8 am meant 8 am, not even 8.01 am. Not being punctual was regarded as the biggest crime.

As students, we were told the story of the then Prime Minister who arrived late for the inauguration of the swimming pool. The school authorities garlanded his photograph and went ahead with the ceremony without waiting for him. That was the importance the school gave to time.

Punctuality was ingrained in me right from my childhood, as I hail from Coorg, the picturesque hill district of Karnataka which has contributed some of the finest soldiers to the country. One of them was Field Marshal K.M. Cariappa, the first and only commander-in-chief of free India, whose penchant for punctuality was legendary.

When Cariappa became the Field Marshal, a civic reception was organised in his honour at Mercara. Cariappa arrived half-an-hour in advance and patiently waited in his car outside the venue. And at the appointed time, he got off his car and walked into the venue. As William Shakespeare would say: “Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.”

There was an occasion when a Chief Minister arrived at Cariappa’s residence 30 minutes late. The Field Marshal, had by then closed the doors and taken his seat at a window overlooking the foyer. Standing on the other side of the window, the Chief Minister virtually begged that he be let in, but Cariappa remained unfazed. It was only after half-an-hour of pleading that the Chief Minister was finally let in, but not without a reprimand.

As children, we learnt our first lessons in punctuality at home. One of our earliest teachers was my father’s driver who unfailingly arrived on the dot at 9.15 am day after day; something modern day chief executives should be envious of. And my father would make it a point to be ready by then so that the driver did not have to wait even for a minute. This mutual respect for each other’s time was truly admirable.

Having been brought up in such an atmosphere, I find it very strange that even well educated people in high positions have scant respect for other’s time. How many times have we not heard the excuse: “Sorry, I am running late…Sorry, I am stuck in a traffic jam…Sorry, I did not find a place to park”?

To them, I would like to quote Richard Cecil: “If I have made an appointment with you, I owe you punctuality. I have no right to throw away your time, if I do my own.” American theologian, Nathaniel Emmons went a step further when he said: “I could never think well of a man’s intellectual or moral character, if he was habitually unfaithful to his appointment.”

To me, my time is precious and I expect others to value that. I am never late for my meetings, nor does anybody who has an appointment with me have to wait for even five minutes. As the French proverb goes: “The while we keep a man waiting, he reflects on our shortcomings.” Punctuality is the soul of business.

Every time I have to attend a meeting or a social gathering, I keep a buffer of 15 minutes and for good measure set my watch at least five minutes fast. That way I am never late.

I have come across many people in life for whom punctuality is God. The Publisher of the Indian Express, which was my first port of call, was so particular about being punctual, that even when he has to attend a private dinner, he would send his car on a recce the previous day to measure the time between the office and his friend’s house.

Another person who swore by his watch was former Chief Minister of Karnataka, R. Gundu Rao. As a journalist, I was invited to cover a function where Gundu Rao was the chief guest. Gundu Rao had arrived on time and when he saw no sign of the function starting, he walked straight to the microphone, delivered the welcome address, his own speech, the vote of thanks and simply walked out of the venue, leaving the organisers gaping!

I strongly believe in Lord Nelson’s words: “I owe all my success in life to having been always a quarter of an hour before my time.” Despite my hectic work schedule, I have the time for books, movies, drives, pubs, shopping and travel. I have all the time in the world and my work has never taken over my life, because I believe in the power of punctuality.

Punctuality adds grace to our personality and years to our life. As Louis XVIII of France said: “Punctuality is the politeness of the kings.”

COMMENTS

Inspiring!
- Vachana Shetty, Bangalore