Life is inconceivable without it.It may be time to bring back the wall calendar! Radha Roy BiswasRadha Roy Biswas works on strategy and public policy, consults occasionally and devotes time to writing and teaching.On walls and tabletops, in homes and offices, in stores, in hospitals and clinics, the calendar was an ubiquitous presence. If you went to a store sometime in late November/December, and you were a regular, the storekeeper would give a big smile and swiftly whip out from under the counter a paper roll held in place with a rubber band, and hand it with a flourish with both hands, saying “Happy New Year!”. The digital calendars on our computers, mobile phones and watches automatically ring in the new year. Some even came with a smaller spiral-bound desktop version, and the more coveted item — the diary. Not all calendars were created equal. But just like the wall clock that ticks away reassuringly in a corner, even though it’s my phone that I keep time with, there’s a gap on a wall or a desk somewhere that I know a good calendar can still fill with style and elan. I can’t remember all of them, but I do recall at some point, China OEM pencil the Tisco calendar became a veritable repository of contemporary Indian art prints.On bark and bone, walls and stone, on cloth and paper, by the moon and the sun, by sowing and reaping and now, in that ephemeral thing we call digital space, we humans have marked and measured time.

Not just that, visiting relatives often asked for and carted away the neatly cut out pages. Certainly none that catches my attention. She returned to India after 15 years in the United States. Much sought after, the diary was a source of contention in the family, going to the elder sibling, if not elders, ostensibly to jot study notes, but sooner or later covered with sketches, doodles, and some very non-academic notes. Tisco calendar? My mother asked, somewhat undiplomatically. Printed on thick, glossy paper, it was an annual treasure that blew all others into backrooms. I particularly remember the one from Tata Steel, or Tisco as it was called then. Husain. Then there were the “God” calendars as we used to call them, with a single colourful picture of a deity, occasionally a classic mother and child image depicting Yashodhara and Krishna, inspired by the iconic paintings of Raja Ravi Verma. Whether it’s been an annus horribilis or a great year, there is that notion that time has passed by and something new lies in wait. My mother chanced upon one while visiting a home in Patna: they had relatives in Jamshedpur and the print was identical to what we had on our walls. Without a calendar planner to carve and break up time into smaller bits, life would be a series of endless events without coherence or significance.