The Swift Passage of Time

Written by Muhammad Mohsin Iqbal

In the days of my childhood, when the world still seemed vast and full of unhurried promise, Sunday stood as a weekly beacon of delight. It was a holiday awaited with the keenest anticipation, the sort that filled the heart with restless joy. Plans for its arrival were laid well in advance, whispered among friends and pondered in quiet moments. So eager was I that on Saturday nights sleep often eluded me, my mind alive with the question of how best to greet the dawn and set those cherished schemes in motion.

Would we play a spirited match of cricket upon the green fields, or make our way to the home of some dear relative? Most beloved of all was the journey to maternal grandmother’s house, where the air carried the warmth of familiar stories and the gentle wisdom of maternal grandparents. The calm waves of love and care are something we can only experience while our grandparents are still with us. Such visits belonged chiefly to that golden season of life, when innocence wrapped every hour in simple grace.

Later, as circumstances shifted with the turning of ages, Friday took the place of Sunday as the day of rest. Yet the spirit of anticipation endured for a time, carrying forward the same innocent delight. The years, however, did not stand still. Time, that subtle companion, began to hasten its pace. What once stretched before us in leisurely measure now slips away with startling swiftness. Fridays arrive and depart almost before we have savoured their blessing, unlike the long-awaited Sundays of our student years.

Days blend into one another, months dissolve like morning mist, and years pass with the speed of a rushing stream. An old saying captures this truth with quiet wisdom: the journey of ascent lingers, while the descent unfolds in but a few moments. Thus unfolds the path of every mortal soul, pressing onward toward its final and eternal destination.

This acceleration of time is no mere fancy of the aging mind. It echoes a profound reality that the wise have long observed. The Holy Qur’an, in its inimitable eloquence, swears by the passage of time itself in Surah Al-Asr: “By time, verily man is in loss, except those who believe and do righteous deeds, and enjoin one another to truth and enjoin one another to patience.” In these sacred words lies a solemn reminder that the fleeting hours are not to be squandered, for each moment carries within it the weight of accountability. Time, once spent, returns to no man; it bears us steadily toward that inevitable meeting with our Creator.

The Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, likewise drew our attention to this hastening of days as one of the signs preceding the final Hour. He informed us that time would draw near such that a year would feel like a month, a month like a week, a week like a day, and an hour like the flicker of a flame. In another narration, he urged the faithful to seize five blessings before five others overtake them: youth before old age, health before sickness, wealth before poverty, free time before preoccupation, and life before death. How aptly these words resonate with the experience of every soul that has watched the carefree days of childhood give way to the swift current of maturity.

In youth, time appeared abundant, a generous friend that allowed space for dreams and detours. The excitement of a holiday or the simple pleasure of a family gathering filled the heart to overflowing. Yet as the burdens and responsibilities of life accumulate, one perceives how swiftly those same hours escape our grasp. The cricket matches and visits to grandmother’s house, once the centre of our universe, recede into memory like distant stars. What remains is the realisation that this earthly life is but a transient stage, a brief sojourn in preparation for the everlasting abode. The descent, as the proverb notes, hastens because the destination draws near.

This truth calls not for melancholy, but for mindful gratitude and purposeful living. The same time that rushes past offers each day a fresh opportunity to draw closer to goodness, to strengthen the bonds of family, and to perform deeds that endure beyond the grave. The believer finds solace in the knowledge that while worldly joys are fleeting, the rewards of faith and virtue are eternal. Grandmothers and grandfathers pass on their wisdom, friends scatter with the winds of fate, and youthful vigour fades; yet the soul, enriched by sincere effort, ascends toward its true home.

Let us, then, reflect upon the days that have gone before and the ones that remain. May we greet each Friday—or whichever day Providence grants us rest—with the same eager spirit of our youth, not for idle play alone, but for the cultivation of what truly matters. In the quiet hours, when memories of cricket fields and ancestral homes stir the heart, let them serve as gentle prompts to value time’s precious gift. For in the end, it is not the length of days that defines a life, but the faith, patience, and righteousness with which they are filled. Thus does every traveller complete his journey, setting forth at last toward the eternal mercy of his Lord.