When Time Forgets to Tick: Moments That Melt the Clock

“When Time Forgets to Tick: Moments That Melt the Clock”

There are hours in a day when minutes flutter like restless butterflies, flitting from one flower to the next without ever settling. Then there are moments so enchanting, so profound, that time itself seems to fold its wings and fall asleep. These are the activities that make us lose track of time—not because they steal it, but because they make us forget it was ever something to count.

For me, time becomes elastic in the presence of deep creation, unfiltered emotion, and pure presence. When I write, it is not merely ink staining paper or pixels lighting a screen—it is a surrender, a sacred duet between memory and imagination. The clock’s hands may move, but my soul remains suspended, dancing between the lines of past and possibility.

Reading, especially poetry or philosophy, is another such portal. I may open a book in the hush of early morning and find myself surfacing only when the world has grown noisy with noon. Between the first and last word, I traverse lifetimes. The scent of yellowing pages and the rhythm of silent thought create a cradle for the mind. Whether it is Rumi’s love-drenched verses or the elegant sorrow of Tagore, I drift where the intellect yields to the sublime.

Walking alone, especially in the twilight hours, often blurs time’s rigid borders. There’s a romance in the rustling of trees, a philosophy whispered by the wind, and a thousand stories hidden in each step. In these solitary strolls, I meet a quiet version of myself, untouched by obligations, serenaded by the dusk.

Then there’s music—a timeless muse. When melodies from a distant raga or the ache in Mukesh’s voice enter my veins, the world fades. Songs are not just heard—they are felt, they are lived. They spiral into the soul like smoke curling upward from a sandalwood flame. In that smoke, time disappears.

Conversations that nourish the spirit, too, have this effect. Not idle chatter, but real, soul-stirring dialogues that undress pretence and delve into the mysteries of existence—these are rare and radiant. Over cups of tea or beneath an open sky, such exchanges create their own universe. The ticking clock dares not interrupt.

Philosophers like Heidegger wrote of “being-in-time,” yet I believe a true being exists beyond time. When one is deeply absorbed—be it in art, nature, devotion, or love—then time does not pass; it pauses to admire the moment too.

Philosophy of the Tickless Moments

When do we truly lose track of time?
It isn’t during the humdrum or the hustle. No, time dissolves when we dissolve into something larger than ourselves—a melody, a memory, a mission, or a mistake gone magnificently wrong.

Even philosophers couldn’t escape this magic. Nietzsche lost time gazing at mountains, Socrates got so immersed in thought he forgot to eat, and Diogenes… well, he lived in a barrel and didn’t believe in clocks.

Romance, too, is the greatest thief of time. Not just the candle-lit, rose-petaled kind—but the romance of ideas, the flirtation with daydreams, the unspoken affair between a curious mind and a creative soul.

A brushstroke lost in twilight’s hue,
A sigh that blooms with morning dew,
A page that turns with silent grace,
A dream that leaves no time or place.

A song that drips from broken strings,
A thought that lifts on unseen wings,
A step, a note, a lover’s rhyme—
All leave no trail of ticking time.

Some moments do not ask for your hours—they ask for your heart. And when the heart listens, time forgets to tick!