My Father, the Watchmaker

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My Father, the Watchmaker takes us on a metaphysical journey in which countries and cities merge and generations get drawn out longer than usual. Following the narrative of an uprooted home, we are constantly left wondering whether we are walking the streets of Lahore or New Delhi. At times we are spectators of a house, slowly disappearing or sitting at the back of the bicycle of a delivery boy meandering through the streets, delivering packages. Like the mythical Atlas, the watchmaker’s shop is condemned to carry the weight of the clocktower upon its shoulders. The ticking of time feels unsettling and it's erasure almost comes as a relief. The stories, the author says, are full of lies.