One of my fondest memories growing
up was getting my own personal alarm
clock — something that my father set me
up with for waking up early and studying
for the all-important plus two exams.
Clearing that exam led me to another cherished
timepiece — a HMT wristwatch.
The magnetic compass arrived differently,
and without fanfare. I don’t even
recall it arriving. I just discovered it one
day in my house, in a trunk that had my
brother’s trekking and mountaineering
paraphernalia. Nobody talked about it at
the dinner table.
Over the years, these two objects have
come to hold deep lessons for me in my
journey.
Busybee
The clock, like the wristwatch, is a utility
device. It helps us keep time. Let us go
beyond the obvious. It is a device that’s
always on the move, and also keeps us on
the move. Every minute of the day, we pull
a fresh piece of information from it: what
time to wake up, when to leave, how long
we have to get to the end of the workday,
and so on.
The clock needs to be kept going. Without
a battery, a charge, or a constant energy
supply, it simply stops. Left to itself, it has
no motion of its own. And what it never
does, for all its busyness, is move from
where it sits. Its ubiquitous nature, and its
hold over our attention span, keep us asking,
“Are we there yet?”
Seeker
The magnetic compass is different. Place it
on a table, leave it alone, come back an hour
later — it is still pointing the same way. It
asks for nothing from the outside. No battery,
no notification, no reminder. There is
something almost stubborn about it, and
perhaps that stubbornness is the point.
Because no matter how much time and
effort has passed from our end, the compass
only points in the direction we seek. It
keeps track of where we are headed.
Drive That Matters
In common parlance, we call those who
know right from wrong as having a ‘moral
compass’. I have wondered why we do not
also speak of a person’s ‘learner’s compass’:
a quiet, internal pull towards curiosity,
towards questions, and towards the kind of
work that does not need an external deadline
or extrinsic motivation.
The critical difference between the clock
and the compass is not really about time
or direction. It is about where the energy
comes from. The clock is always moving,
always responding, always needing the
next charge to keep going. The compass
does not need winding up. When you are
genuinely looking for something — a skill, an understanding, or a version
of yourself you haven’t
met yet — you do not need
someone to remind you to
keep going. The direction is
already there.
Quiet Orientation
I have met many clocks in my
life — in classrooms, in offices,
and in the small panics
of deadlines and schedules.
They kept things moving,
and I am not ungrateful for
that. But the moments that
actually shifted the direction
of my journey were quieter
than tick-tocks. They came
when I was genuinely curious
about something, not because
a timetable said so, but because
something inside had
already begun pointing that
way. Curiosity does not need
a prompt. It simply arrives.
That quality, when you
find it in yourself, is worth
paying attention to. Not the
curiosity that is switched on
by a notification or a trending
topic, but the kind that
lingers after the screen goes
dark. The kind that makes
you return to a question nobody
assigned you. A learner
who carries that quality
does not need to be wound
up every morning. They are
already moving, already oriented,
and already asking the
right questions.
The most useful notifications
come from within. They
are not designed by a system,
not triggered by an algorithm,
and not timed to keep you
returning to something that
serves someone else’s purpose.
Be, in the truest sense,
your own compass. That can
lead to the most fulfilling adventures
in life.